This is another episode in the nameless series that accidentally began with "The Mask Slips" You should read that first, as parts of this will make more sense. In order, the stories go - 1) Mask Slips 2) Seeking (&) Understanding and 3) Fast Friendship and 4 - you're looking at it.

Mild (very) slash warning/implications.

Characters STILL aren't mine (deep sigh), but rather belong to Alliance. This follows the DS episode Good for the Soul and contains some spoilers for that episode.

Thanks to Mary Ann for her usual thoughtful perusal and suggestions and to Sarah, who is still encouraging and now suggesting - not sure this one would have ever been finished without you guys!

Turnbull was busy teaching everyone the words to "Santa Drives a Pickup," when Ray saw his opportunity and snuck out of the squad room. He quickly exited the building and headed for the parking lot. Breathing hard in the cold air, he leaned against the wall, trying to organize his thoughts. But all he could think about was the Mountie talking about forgiveness. Forgiveness, after what he, Ray Kowalski, had done to him. "You are such a loser," he told himself bitterly. He started to pace back and forth. "An unbelievable, stupid, fucking loser. You don't deserve the Mountie. You don't deserve anything." He slammed his fist into the wall, hard. And then again. He looked at his battered and bleeding knuckles. The pain was good, he decided. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. Not for what he'd done. He got into the car and drove off into the night, steadily and continually berating himself.

"Of course it's cold out," Fraser told Diefenbaker as they walked down the street. "It's late December. What do you expect? Compared to your birthplace, I'd think you'd find it quite balmy. You should be enjoying this invigorating walk instead of complaining." The wolf whined. "I do not drag you out to torture you. It's only concern for your welfare that brings me out at all. All things being equal, I'd have been just as content to stay in this evening." He cricked his neck, wincing at the accompanying pain. He was still stiff from the beating Warfield's thugs had given him. It had been a long process, but his persistence had payed off and Warfield would pay for his crime. Fraser was feeling quite satisfied with the outcome. The only thing that could improve his mood, would be Ray's presence, but the blond had disappeared towards the end of the party the day before, and the Mountie had been unable to reach him since. He was worried about his friend. Ray had a strong tendency to overreact to emotional issues and Fraser wanted to discuss the events of the past few days with him. Since admitting to himself just how much he cared about his partner, he had found himself feeling even more protective of the blond if that were possible. While on the one hand, he knew he could never tell Ray how he felt, without raising all sort of awkward questions, some of which he didn't know the answers to himself, he also knew paradoxically, that his friend needed to know that that love existed and was unconditional. It was all very confusing, and at times wearing. "If we can't reach Ray by phone, we'll just walk over there and wait for him to come home," he told Diefenbaker. The wolf had something to say about that idea as well. "Don't you take that tone with me," Fraser warned. "It's not too late to return your Christmas present." A very low rumble from Diefenbaker. "Just try me!" Fraser threatened. "And stop your sulking." They rounded the corner and started down the block to the Consulate. Diefenbaker suddenly barked and ran ahead. When Fraser caught up, he found the wolf nuzzling a familiar figure, seated on the Consulate steps.

"Hello, Ray," he said warmly.

"Hey, Frase." The blond kept his head down and his voice was low. Fraser tilted his head to the side and surveyed his partner. The Chicago detective looked somewhat disheveled, but that really wasn't all that unusual. In the dark it was hard to see more, but something was definitely off.

"Did you want to come inside?" the Mountie offered, finally.

"Nah. Just came by to give you yer gift and ... ta say I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Fraser sat down next to his friend.

"Lettin' you down. Should've been there." The Mountie sighed. He'd been afraid of this.

"Ray, you don't owe me an apology. You came when I needed you."

"I'm yer partner - should've been there all along."

"And then two of us would have been hurt. Ray, you believed it was a pointless endeavor. And traditionally, mobsters do not attack police officers. Had you thought I was in danger of anything besides angering our superiors, I know that you would have been there." Silence. Tentatively, Fraser reached out a hand to the blond's shoulder. Ray tensed, but kept scratching the wolf behind the ears. He still hadn't looked at the Mountie. Fraser watched him for a moment, then focused on the long fingers as they worked in and out of the fur. His jaw tightened. "Look at me," Fraser suddenly said.

"Why?" The head stayed down, still ostensibly focused on the wolf. The Mountie reached out and took the blond's jaw in his hand, turning his face up. It was dark, but not dark enough to cover the bruised cheekbone and split lip.

"Ray, what happened?" The blond jerked his head away. "I want an answer!" Fraser insisted.

"Nothin'." The voice was so low, his partner had to lean in to hear. The Mountie sighed.

"Ray?"

"Nothing. I was boxing, all right?" defensively.

"Boxing."

"Yeah."

"Bare knuckle?"

"Yeah," daring him to believe otherwise.

"Ray ..." Fraser tone indicated that he wasn't satisfied.

"Leave it," the blond warned.

"Ray, you are injured."

"S'okay. It's fair." The last was muttered under his breath, not really meant for the Mountie's ears, but of course, the Canadian missed nothing.

"What?!"

"Nothin'" Ray said. Fraser looked at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean it's fair?"

"Even Steven." He'd turned back to the wolf for sanctuary from the Mountie's horrified gaze.

"Come inside. Let me take a look at you." He started to take Ray's arm to help him up, but the blond jerked his arm away.

"No! Came to apologize, not for you ta take care of me." He stood up and stepped out of Fraser's reach. "Should've been taking care of you. Blew it. Won't happen again." He started down the steps and then turned around and gestured at a box on the steps. "Merry Christmas ... I ... well, I got it before I screwed up, so I hope it's still okay." Then he turned to go again.

"Ray!" Fraser stood too. The blond stopped, his posture defensive. "Don't go." Fraser softened his tone. "Please," he added.

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to spend Christmas Eve with my best friend," the Mountie told him, looking straight into his eyes.

"Yeah, well he's undercover," Ray turning his head away.

"Yes, he is." Fraser agreed. He approached carefully, alert to any sign that the blond would bolt. "Ray, look at me." The head came up slowly, the pale eyes guarded. "I would very much like to spend the evening with you," guessing that his partner would have a hard time refusing a direct request, especially in his current guilty frame of mind. Silence again. Ray watched him carefully. He wanted so much to believe the Mountie, but couldn't understand why he would really want to be around him. But the Mountie didn't lie ... except that one time to protect Ray Vecchio. So he could be doing it now. Fraser's gaze gave nothing away. He just stood, waiting patiently for Ray to speak. Finally, in a reluctant tone, Kowalski did.

"Doin' what?"

"Do you have a tree?" Fraser asked.

"No. Didn't seem much point to it. Gettin' one by myself seemed ... lonely." Fraser nodded in understanding. He had felt much the same.

"Then I would like for us to get a tree, some Chinese take out and repair to your apartment."

"Why not bring it back here?"

"My office, while it is sufficient for my needs, would be a tad cramped by the addition of a tree."

"Oh, that's a fact," Ray agreed, giving a half laugh. He looked at the Mountie for a long moment. "Why?" he finally asked.

"Because I enjoy spending time with you. And if you cannot accept that, because it's Christmas Eve and I don't wish to spend it alone."

"The Vecchio's'd be thrilled ta see you."

"I would rather spend the time with you." Fraser told him. Ray continued looking at the Canadian, visibly thinking it over. Finally he jerked his head sharply in assent.

"Okay."

"I need to fetch a few things from inside."

"I'll wait out here," Ray sat back down on the steps.

"Ray?" The blond looked back up at him, and guessed what the Mountie was thinking. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his car keys and held them out with a wry smile.

"Don't get any ideas about you driving. It's just so you know I'll still be here."

"Understood." Fraser smiled, accepting the keys.

In his office, he looked around trying to concentrate on what he would need to take with him.

"The Yank seems bent on punishing himself, doesn't he?"

"A not uncommon result of child abuse." Fraser looked up at his father. "How do I help him, Dad? I keep trying, but it's not working."

"It's working son. Just not as fast as you'd like."

"Working? Did you actually look at him? He feels he let me down, so he goes out and gets himself beaten up to make it 'fair.' In what way does that indicate to you that I'm helping him? It appears I've just become one more excuse for him to injure himself."

"He's here, isn't he?"

"What?"

"The Yank. He's here. On some level, even if it wasn't a conscious decision, he knows that you'll help him. He came to you because he wants that help. Don't give up on him, son. You'll do more harm now, than if you'd left him alone in the first place."

"I don't intend to give up. I just get ... so discouraged. He's a good man. I hate that he has to go through this. I can't stand seeing him in so much pain."

"Benton, you can't remove the effects of thirty years overnight. The lad is damaged ... badly. And until you came along, no one ever really made the effort to help him. No one got past that facade he puts up. You are having an effect, son, but you have to expect setbacks. He's here now. He trusts you. Focus on that right now." He smiled at his son, who nodded and smiled back.

"Thank you, Dad. I ... I needed to hear that."

"Merry Christmas, son."

"Merry Christmas, Dad."

"Hey, Frase? Ya gonna be much longer? Me and Dief are gettin' kind o' cold out here!" he heard from down the hallway. The Mountie smiled and quickly gathered the things he would need.

"Coming!" he called.

Two hours later, Fraser found himself seated on Ray's couch, patiently untangling the lights, while his partner set out their dinner on the coffee table.

"You know, Ray. If you took just a few more minutes when putting these away, this would be much easier the following year."

"Can't do that Frase. It wouldn't be Christmas if ya didn't have to untangle the lights. 'Sides, they do it ta themselves."

"The lights tangle themselves?"

"Yep. Ya leave 'em in a box all year and they get bored. Try ta tango or something, I dunno. Doesn't matter. Next year, they're all tangled again. 'S a fact."

"Ah." The blond's demeanor had relaxed considerably while they had hunted for just the right tree. Fraser had to bite his tongue several times to avoid bringing up his partner's injuries. He knew Ray's hands were bothering him and he suspected damage to his ribcage and his left leg as well, judging by the way he was moving.

"Look, we even got green stuff here," Ray said setting out the boxes. "Don't see that at my apartment much."

"Actually, Ray," Fraser felt compelled to point out, "There is usually green stuff in your refrigerator. It just isn't edible ... any more." Ray chuckled as he sat down on the couch.

"Oh that's nice. That's buddies. What ever happened to Mister Polite Mountie?"

"Truth will out, Ray." Fraser smiled back. The blond shook his head, still smiling.

"What the Hell kind o' answer is that?"

"The polite Mountie one." He put down the lights and reached for a plate, dishing up a healthy sized serving of stir fried vegetables and garlic chicken. Sitting back, he watched as Ray awkwardly handled his chopsticks. The blond caught him looking and his face tensed. Fraser said nothing. Ray watched him for a moment, decided to ignore him and went back to eating. A moment later he swore under his breath as he dropped a chopstick. Fraser was still watching him, quietly and patiently.

"It's just," Ray started and then stopped. Fraser waited. "I don't know. Can't explain it. It's stupid."

"Stop that!" The blond looked up, startled at the Mountie's vehement tone. "Whatever it is, it is not stupid. Stop putting yourself down, Ray. I don't like it." The blond looked at him, then dropped his head. "Ray?" in a more gentle tone. "Ray?" The pale blue eyes came up again. "Whatever it is you need or want to say, I'll listen. But don't put yourself down. You don't deserve that."

"Yeah, right." The tone was self-mocking, angry. "So, Frase, tell me. Why ya walking around so stiff? Could it be 'cause your idiot partner hung ya out to dry? Yeah, I do believe it is. I don't deserve it? I deserve a whole lot worse than that, Benton buddy."

"Ray, you thought was I was doing was wrong and selfish."

"Doesn't matter. I should've been there."

"Ray, I understand why you weren't there. Your superiors forbade it and you agreed with their reasoning. You came out and explained all of that to me and gave me the option to leave as well. I chose to stay. Some trails are solitary and must be taken alone," he finished, quoting his father.

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Look, Ray, if I don't hold you to blame, why should you?" Fraser asked, trying another tack.

"'Cause yer too damn nice. You should hold me to blame. It's my fault you got hurt. God, why do you put up with me?" He got up from the couch and moved away across the room, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself back down.

"Ray," Fraser, distressed, started to get up.

"Don't! Just ... don't." The blond disappeared into the bathroom. Locking the door, he contemplated himself in the mirror. The same idiot he'd always been stared right back at him.

"Ray?" he heard through the door.

"Go 'way," he ordered, still concentrating on the person in the mirror. Ray Kowalski, major screw up. Handed the Mountie on a silver platter when he took over Vecchio's life. Given the greatest gift he could ever hope to receive, and what had he done? Gone and screwed it up. He didn't deserve Fraser, he knew. Just as he hadn't deserved Stella. He didn't deserve anyone and he certainly didn't deserve anyone on Christmas Eve.

Fraser sighed to himself. The bathroom door was shut and locked. From inside, he heard a loud thump and winced at the thought of an already damaged hand hitting the wall.

"Open the door, Ray."

"Go 'way," the blond repeated.

"Open the door. I mean it, Ray. I will break it down if I have to." The door swung open and a glaring Ray Kowalski faced him.

"It's open. Happy? Good. Get out."

"Ray, talk to me."

"I said get out. Leave. You're just here to prove some Mountie ideal. How forgivin' y'are an' all. Get out. I don't need your pity."

"Ray, that is simply not true."

"Don't you speak English anymore? Get ... out." His tone and look were dangerous.

"Ray, you can't ..."

"This is not working." The blond turned away. "Ya don't listen ta me. Ya never listen. I mean, why bother right? You already have all the answers, so who needs to listen to anyone else? 'Specially if he's a loser."

"Ray, you ..."

"I can't do this anymore, Frase. I just ... I can't. When that bouncer called ... I ... it's not working. Just ... leave." The Mountie stood there, his thumb flicking back and forth across his eyebrow.

"Ray, we need to discuss this in a calm and logical ..."

"GET OUT!" The blond was holding himself tight, arms stiff by his side, chest, visibly rising and falling with each breath. "Go ... away ... or I'll pop ya! I did it before, I'll do it again!" Ray's eyes were positively glittering in anger. Fraser dropped his head, then looked back up. It was useless to try reasoning with him while he was in this mood, he decided. Nodding his head, he turned to pick up his hat. Looking back, he opened his mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it and went to the door. He was reaching out for the knob when he noticed his father standing there.

"Don't do this son. Don't leave. If you leave him now, you may never make it right again." Ben stopped, still facing the door. "He's right. You don't really listen to him. You're not hearing him right now. He's still trying to punish himself, this time by pushing you away. If you let him do that, you'll both suffer for it." The younger Mountie continued to look at the door for a few moments while he thought about that. Then he nodded and turned back. He caught Ray unawares, saw the fear and a strange sort of triumph in the blond's eyes. He put down his hat.

"I'm not going, Ray."

"Yer not?" Kowalski was confused now.

"No." Fraser put down his hat and walked back across the room. Reaching his hands out, he put them on the smaller man's shoulders. "We're partners Ray. We may have difficulties sometimes, but we are partners. We'll work them out."

"What makes you think I wanna work 'em out? "

"I know you," the Mountie said softly. Ray thought those were possibly the most terrifying three words he had ever heard.

"You don't know me. You don't know anything about me. If ya did, ya wouldn't be here."

"I know everything about you I need to Ray. And I am here. And I am staying."

"Even if I tell you to get the Hell out ... that's not very polite is it?" The tone was cutting.

"I'm staying, Ray."

"Fine. Then I'll leave." He started to push past the Mountie. Fraser grabbed him and held on as Kowalski struggled and pulled to get away. Using his weight advantage, the larger man simply pinned his friend to the ground and let him wear himself out. Eventually, the blond stopped struggling and just lay there. There were tears of frustration on his cheeks and he was panting for breath. Fraser waited patiently.

"Why? Why are you here? Why do ya keep coming back?" Ray finally asked.

"Because you are my partner and my friend," the Mountie repeated evenly.

"Ya keep sayin' that Fraser. What the Hell does it mean?" the smaller man whispered.

"It means I'm staying, Ray."

"Ya sure about that, huh?"

"Absolutely. Talk to me, Ray. I'm listening now."

"It's too late ... look, Frase ... please ... just leave. We can still work together - have ta for Vecchio's sake. But the rest ... it's not workin' out. Just trust me on that, will ya?" The anger in his voice was fading, replaced by weariness ... and more than just a hint of fear.

"It's never too late to talk, Ray. Tell me what's on your mind."

"Never mind. I just ... never mind."

"Ray. Please?" He helped the smaller man up and guided him over to the couch, sitting them both down. "Talk to me."

"I just ... I don't get this whole ... Mountie attitude. Standin' up for the higher ideal, never mind what anyone else says. Never listen to what anyone tells ya, ya just go ahead and do whatever ya want." His voice was rising.

"You're angry with me." Fraser stated.

"There you go with the obvious. See, you decide what's right and I'm stuck following along, pickin' up the pieces, only what happens if I get there too late some day? When someone kills ya instead of just beatin ya? What the Hell am I supposed to do then?" Ray stopped, sucking in his breath in an almost sob. "I can't take that. Partners are supposed ta work together, Frase. They talk about stuff. They don't just rush in an' leave the other guy behind. We're not partners Frase. Maybe it was different with Vecchio; maybe ya listened to him. Maybe he was just better at this or smarter. I don't know. But, I'm failin' ya."

"You haven't failed me, Ray. But if you don't tell me what you're thinking, how am I supposed to guess?"

"I try, but you just take off and assume I'm right behind. You're so busy chasin' justice and doin' the right thing, you never stop ta think about the cost. What if you'd screwed up and we'd gotten slapped with a lawsuit that meant we had to stay away from Warfield and lose any chance o' puttin' him away? Or worse, got yourself killed and all 'cause some busboy got slapped? It don't add up Frase. I mean I get the whole good and evil concept, and wrong is wrong, but dyin' over a slap? No. That's not worth riskin' yer life over."

"Ray, risk is part of our job."

"Not all the time, Frase. Sometimes cops take a moment, step back, try ta think of a more ... prudent way ta handle something. Not you, though. You get a thing stuck in yer head and you won't let it go, no matter how hard it is on anybody else." Who the anybody else was, was clear.

"Ray, if you felt this way, why didn't you say something before this?" Fraser was appalled by what he was hearing. The blond just looked at him and suddenly it became crystal clear. "Oh dear." Ray gave him an ironic smile. "You have told me. I just ignored you." He thought for a minute. "Ray, I'm sorry. I ... tend ... to get carried away by the principle, and lose sight of the reality. That and I ... well, I don't like to give up. I will follow a goal through to the end, regardless of the cost. There are those who have called me obsessive. That is not necessarily a good trait, I know, but it seems to be my nature."

"I know that," the blond said. "And it's not always a bad thing. It's kind of like the whole instinct an' logic thing. Sometimes it's good to keep goin' after the goal, no matter what. But sometimes ya gotta know when to back off. Yer no good to anybody if yer dead. I ... I couldn't ... if anything happens to ya, Frase, I don't know if I can ... live with that." Ray looked at the Mountie, and Fraser could see the truth of what he was saying in those emotionally transparent eyes.

"Ray ..." He stopped. Ray waited patiently. Fraser just looked at him for a moment. "I am sorry if I seem to be unnecessarily risking our lives. I'm not sure I know how to act any other way. I can't just let injustice pass unnoticed."

"I know that too. You wouldn't be you if ya could.. And mostly, I got no problem going along with ya. Just it would be nice ta think that once in a while, if I did object, you'd listen. Maybe you'd go ahead and endanger our lives in some wildly bizarre manner anyway," he grinned. "But then again, maybe you'll think twice about it and we can try somethin' different. Somethin' a little more ... I dunno ... more ..."

"Mundane?"

"Mundane?"

"Routine. Ordinary."

"Yeah. That," smiling.

"All right. If you object, I'll listen."

"Okay, then."

"Is that all?"

"No." Ray hesitated for a moment. "Thing is, while I'm mad at you for making me follow you on all these crazy ideas, I'm a lot madder at me for not bein' with ya this week." he admitted. "I screwed up Fraser. I screwed up big time. I wanted ta think I was the kind o' guy you could count on. That I was doin' okay at replacing Vecchio. He wouldn't've let that happen to you."

"You don't know that, Ray."

"I read all those files. You guys were tight - ya didn't have ta worry about him not showin' up."

"Files don't reveal everything. And we don't know what Ray Vecchio might have found objectionable."

Ray gave a half laugh. "Right. Look, if you don't want ta work with me anymore, I'd understand." He looked down at the floor while he said this. "I mean we could still keep up the cover, for Vecchio and all ..." He was stopped by a gentle finger across his lips.

"Ray, I want to continue working with you." The blond, looked up, raising an eyebrow, and Fraser hastily removed his hand.

"Yer sure?"

"Absolutely." The two men looked at each other.

"So, we're still?"

"Very much so."

"Good." Ray visibly relaxed. Fraser took the opportunity to reach up and lightly trace around the bruising on Ray's cheekbone. He looked at Ray and raised an eyebrow. The blond sighed. "Yer not gonna be happy til' I let you patch me up, are ya."

"Well, ... no." Fraser admitted.

"Get it over with," Ray said in a resigned tone.

"Thank you kindly." The Mountie stood and motioned toward the bathroom. Kowalski pushed himself off the couch slowly. He was starting to feel very stiff. Fraser followed him into the bathroom, removing a small container from his jacket pocket, on the way. Unscrewing the lid, he set it on the counter. Ray wrinkled his nose.

"Not that stuff again."

"Yes." Fraser had Ray blocked into the bathroom and the blond realized there was no escape. He slumped back against the counter. At least, he thought, the talking part was over. He had survived that okay. And the anger was gone for the moment. He could handle it. Maintain. He could do this, he reassured himself. Fraser would never know.

The Mountie reached around him and picked up a washcloth. Fraser started with Ray's face, gently soaking the blood out of abrasions on his jaw and cheek and a small cut on his forehead and then moved to his hands. The smaller man submitted silently, relaxing as the process continued. Fraser suspected that Ray didn't mind this as much as he said. When he had finished cleaning his friend's face and hands, he applied the ointment. Ray made several faces at the smell, but still said nothing. Then the Mountie reached to take off Ray's shirt. The blond started to protest, but a look from Fraser stilled him. He gingerly lifted his arms and allowed the Mountie to remove his sweatshirt and the t-shirt under it. Fraser shook his head, looking at the bruising. Ray had had much worse, but this ... it was so purposeless. He ran his hands over each bruised area, carefully feeling the bone and tissue underneath, looking for signs of further injury. From there he moved to Ray's belt buckle.

"Whoa!" Fraser looked up. "Where ya goin' there?" Kowalski demanded nervously.

"You're limping. I'd like to take a look at your leg."

"It's fine. Just sore."

"Ray, I have seen your legs before. What is the problem?"

"No problem."

"Well, then?" The blond looked at him for a moment and then sighed.

"Fine. I can take 'em off myself."

"Fine." He stood back and waited. Ray reached down and pulled off his boots, wincing at the movement. "Ray?"

"I'm good." The blond stayed bent over though. Fraser put his hands on the thin shoulders and helped the smaller man stand back up. Putting his hand under Ray's chin, he forced the blond to look at him.

"What did this accomplish, Ray?" he asked quietly. Silence. "Ray?" he persisted.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Kowalski was tensing up again.

"Why not?"

"Just don't Frase, please. I can't ... don't make me do this. Please." His eyes were miserable and begging.

"You know you can trust me."

"Yeah. You say that now."

"Ray - anything that you tell me, you know I'll keep in the strictest confidence."

"I know that."

"Then why won't you tell me?"

"'Cause you'll leave," Ray whispered. He was shaking. Fraser wrapped his arms around him, gently; securely.

"No Ray, I won't. As I told you earlier, I am not leaving."

"That's just 'cause you don't know me." The words were muffled, but the tone was one of absolute conviction.

"Oh, Ray." Fraser's tone was sad. He pulled the blond in closer. "I told you, I know everything about you that I need to. You are a good man and a good friend. Nothing you can say will chase me away." The smaller man was still tense in his arms, but the Mountie could sense the longing to tell his painful secret. "I promise, Ray," he whispered. "No matter what you tell me, I won't leave you."

"How can you promise that? You don't know ..."

"What don't I know Ray?" He waited a moment and then took the plunge himself. "That you injure yourself? That you hit walls on purpose, not because you have a bad temper, but because you don't know how else to deal with certain emotions? That you went out last night and picked a fight that you knew you would lose because you felt you deserved to be hurt?" Silence. A very tense silence.

"Ray, it is not uncommon for people who have been abused as children to react like this."

"It's not?"

"No, Ray. It's not." Ray pushed back slightly, still remaining in the Mountie's arms, but looking up at him. His gaze was tentative, as he searched Fraser's face for any sign of condemnation. He saw only concern. He ducked his head again, suddenly unable to take even that much from the man he felt he'd betrayed. He tried to push back further, but Fraser held onto him, gently but firmly. They were silent for a few minutes.

"Yer not just makin' this up to make me feel better?"

"No Ray. I am not."

"How do you know that?"

"I've been doing some ... research, since we came back from the cabin."

"Findin' out just how nuts I am, huh." The tone was despondent.

"Ray, you are not nuts. You were hurt badly as a child. Things like that don't disappear overnight. It can take years to recover. I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help. To gain a better understanding of what you might be going through."

"Kind o' Nosey Parker, aren't ya," Kowalski commented dryly.

"Where your welfare is concerned? Absolutely." Fraser told him. Silence as the blond thought this over. Finally,

"So, what's wrong with me?" The Mountie thought those might be about the most heartbreaking words he'd heard in a long time.

"There is nothing 'wrong' with you, Ray," he said quietly. "You have some issues you need to deal with. And you have some problems that you need to work through. None of which are your fault. That's part of the process; admitting to yourself that you did not do anything wrong, Ray. You have to accept what was done to you and start to deal with the resulting trauma."

"Thought that's what I'd been doing."

"You've made a start. You still have a long road ahead of you. You need to work to a point where this is no longer a 'solution,'" he said, reaching up and stroking his finger along the bruised jaw line. And I will be here to help you in any way I can."

"Why? I really don't get it Fraser. Why do you care? And don't give me that partner and friend stuff. Why?" The pale eyes looked straight into the darker blue ones.

"I just do, Ray. You are my friend. You are generous with your time and your support ..."

"Oh yeah, proved that pretty good this week," Ray said looking away. The Mountie sighed.

"Ray. I do not wish to discuss that again."

"Well, I do," the blond insisted stubbornly.

"You want to push me away, Ray. Why? Because you're afraid?" The blond sucked in a deep breath, startled. "That is it, isn't it? You're afraid I'll leave you, so you think if you push me away first, it will hurt less."

"Don't." A one word plea.

"Ray, I am not leaving. Look at me. I'm right here." He forced the smaller man's face up. "Look at me. I ... am ... not ... leaving." Blue eyes met blue eyes, and Ray apparently saw something reassuring there.

"Yer a freak, ya know."

"So I've been told," Fraser smiled gently. They stood in silence for a few minutes longer, Ray clearly caught up in thought.

"So, maybe I'm not crazy?" he finally ventured.

"Not in this matter at least," Fraser replied, ever seeking to be completely honest.

"Har de har har." Kowalski spoke automatically. He was still thinking though.

"Ray, talk to me," Fraser encouraged.

"And say what? You seem ta know more than I do."

"What triggers it?"

"I dunno ... just sometimes it's the only thing I can do. I just get ... so full ... of feelings ...and then I get mad ... at myself ... an' I don't ... I can't ... I just ... Ya know at the party, when you were talking about forgiveness and I just started to think ... and I couldn't stop. Sometimes I can go box, but sometimes that's just ... too ... safe ... or I can't get there in time. And I have ta do somethin' else."

"A release from an emotional overload?"

"More than that. I just ... I ... well, I get so I don't like myself very much. Like it's something I should be able to handle or deal with, but I can't, so it's my fault and that makes it worse. Sometimes I can get past it. But sometimes ... I just can't." Ray looked up at Fraser again. "Pretty fucked up, huh?"

"I do understand," Fraser said softly. "But you can't go on this way."

"I know. I tell myself that all the time. But it ... gets away from me."

"Does hitting something really make you feel better?"

"No. Not really. Just the more it hurts the more I get distracted I guess. From the feelings. Focus on the pain, ya know? No pain, no gain?"

"And how much pain is enough?"

"Depends on how much stuff I got twisting inside me." His voice was dropping lower and lower. "I ... I was always afraid ... ya know, that, uh, if Stella ever found out ... she'd ... commit me or something." He was looking down again and there was a certain tension in the way he was holding himself.

"I wouldn't do that." He placed his hand on the blond's cheek. "Listen to me. You are a good person, Ray Kowalski. I keep telling you that. I mean it. I absolutely believe it. And you are not going to chase me away or frighten me off just because you're a tad ... shall we say warped?" That brought a slight chuckle from the smaller man. "Will you let me try to help you?" Fraser asked.

"I think I'm a lost cause," his friend told him.

"I disagree." The Mountie continued to hold him, noticing, not for the first time, how thin and vulnerable the blond felt in his arms. He fought the urge to tighten the embrace. As the blond slowly leaned into him, he began running his fingers gently over the slender back. Fraser could feel the slight shaking still there, lessen under his hands, until Ray was still and relaxed. Only then did he, reluctantly, release him. Standing on his own, Ray looked questioningly into the Mountie's eyes. Fraser smiled slightly. Reaching down, he undid the buttons on the blond's jeans and slowly eased them down. Ray stood still, wincing as the rough denim material pulled past his knee. It was swollen and bruised. Fraser sighed and patted the counter top. Ray eased himself onto it and let Fraser finish removing his jeans and then examine the knee, gently bending and straightening it. When he had satisfied himself that the joint still had the full range of motion, he stood.

"Do you have an ace bandage?" he asked. Ray pulled out a drawer, by way of an answer. Fraser reached in and removed the necessary object. He wrapped the knee carefully. The blond remained silent, apparently still thinking over what the Mountie had said. When Fraser was done, he stood. Ray, now naked except for his underwear and socks, had wrapped his arms across his chest and was starting to shiver.

"Ya done?" he asked.

"Yes. For now." Ray shook his head, giving a half smile.

"I'm gonna go put some clothes on then." He slid off the counter and squeezed past Fraser, limping into the bedroom.

"Do you require any assistance."

"Nah. I been dressin' myself for a long time, now, Benton buddy."

"Ahh. Right you are." Fraser dragged his eyes away from the lithe body and forced himself to return to the living room. Their long abandoned dinner was still where they had left it. Fraser looked in shock at Diefenbaker. The wolf looked back at him, unperturbed. On closer inspection, Fraser found the carton of garlic chicken had been emptied. He just shook his head and removed the plates to the kitchen, where he placed them in the microwave.

Ray came out of the bedroom wearing a ragged pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt. "Dief didn't eat our dinner?" he said in surprise.

"Only a portion."

"His share, huh?"

"He thought so."

"Seems fair."

"Ill mannered," Fraser corrected, looking straight at the wolf. Diefenbaker let his tongue loll out the side of his mouth and gave the Mountie a very self-satisfied look. Fraser sighed and shook his head.

They finished dinner in a companionable silence. Ray was still clearly thinking over what Fraser had told him. After they had finished eating, the Mountie returned to untangling the Christmas lights and then began stringing them on the tree. Ray had located some seasonal music and had it playing on the stereo. They began hanging ornaments, with occasional comments. At one point, Fraser reached for a small unopened box, but the blond stopped him.

"I don't wanna use those," he said. The Mountie raised an eyebrow. "Bought 'em with Stella. Just don't ... don't really want those memories tonight."

"Understood." Fraser watched his partner for a moment as he delved into another box. Life seemed to be full of landmines for the blond. The Mountie wished desperately that he knew how to disarm them, but it seemed like he just kept finding more instead. Shaking his head, he returned to the business at hand.

They finished decorating the tree and stood back, admiring the effect. Ray went over and turned off the room lights. The tree shone prettily in the darkness.

"It's nice," Ray finally said. "I'm ... I'm glad ya made us do this, Frase. Kind o' makes it more like Christmas, ya know?"

"Yes, Ray. I do." The blond nodded and then walked over and collapsed on the couch, still surveying the tree. Fraser turned and watched him for a moment, then joined him.

"I could make ya some tea or something," Ray offered.

"I'm fine."

"Okay." They sat quietly in the dark, illuminated only by the tree. Fraser could sense Ray getting tense again and he waited patiently. Finally, he was rewarded.

"I get really afraid sometimes. That I'm gonna really hurt myself, ya know?"

"So this wasn't really hurting yourself?"

"Not so bad. Nothing that'll keep me from anything. But sometimes the pain feels kind o' good. Like I deserve it and more."

"Deserve it?"

"Yeah. I mean usually whatever's wrong, well, it's my fault. An' sometimes I just ... it's like if I was a kid, ya know, my Dad'd hit me ... and no one does that now ... but just bein' yelled at or something ... it doesn't feel like enough, I guess. So, sometimes the only way ta deal with the stuff in my head is ta ... beat it out, kind of." Fraser closed his eyes. He didn't know what the address first, the pain in his friend's voice or the statements themselves. "I know it's sick," Ray said quietly. The Mountie sighed and reached out a hand, resting it on the blond's shoulder.

"I understand," he said quietly. "I really do, Ray. I just don't want to ... condone it. You do not deserve to be 'punished' as you put it. You have been punished more than enough in your lifetime for any wrong you would ever commit."

"Yeah, right." The tone conveyed utter disbelief.

"I wish I knew how to make it better, Ray. I really wish I did."

"I know. And ya do. Some. I mean, I never told Stella any o' this stuff. She just thought I got in a lot o' fights. Never realized how many were just me and a wall or my own fists. Probably figured I missed boxing or somethin.' I never asked." Fraser gently squeezed the shoulder he was holding for reassurance. Ray smiled weakly. They sat in silence for a bit longer. Then, "But, what you were sayin' before, then, is that I'm kind of normal ... all things considered."

"All things considered, Ray, you're a remarkably stable individual," Fraser said sincerely. That earned him a full on smile. He could feel the smaller man's muscles relaxing under his hand. "Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you ... the next time that you have this need to hit something, will you please talk to me first?"

"Frase ... it builds so ... fast. It's not like I really plan ta do this or anything. And once it starts ..."

"Just promise me you'll try Ray. That the next time something happens and you even start to feel like you're to blame or it's getting out of control that you will talk to me."

"Frase ... I ..."

"Promise that you'll try, Ray. That's all I'm asking. That you will try."

"Yeah. Okay. I guess I can do that. I promise ta try."

"Thank you."

"Only 'cause you said you'd listen ta me the next time I object to somethin' insane yer doing."

"Fair enough."

"And Frase?"

"Yes?"

"I ... I am sorry about earlier. I should o' backed you. I should o' been there."

"Ray, Warfield would still be in business if it weren't for you."

"Me? Yer the one that did him in."

"My way didn't work, Ray. Lt. Welsh told me that it was you who talked them into going to the club."

"Didn't exactly take a lot of talking. We all wanted to go. Knew we should o' been there from the beginning." He looked directly at the Mountie. "I know you say you understand and everything ... but I don't. I don't know what the Hell was going through my head." His eyes were troubled.

"You were being a good police officer, Ray. Concerned less with the letter of the law and more with the ultimate goal of putting Warfield away for his greater crimes. Whereas, I was so caught up with the letter of the law, that I might have jeopardized that long term goal, thereby allowing Warfield to evade justice for his greater crimes. In our own way, each of us was right ... but each of us was also wrong." Ray thought about that for a moment, then nodded.

"That makes sense," he said. "I can go with that." He relaxed some. Tentatively, he put out a hand, tracing the scab on the Mountie's cheek. "I'm still sorry though. Feel like I should've been able to prevent this, or at least should've been there to try ta help. I feel real bad about that." The Mountie smiled in sad understanding. Reaching out his own hand, he touched the bruise on Kowalski's jaw.

"I know," he said softly. "I know." They just looked at each other for a moment and then, self consciously took back their hands and returned to gazing at the tree.

"It's Christmas." Ray finally commented. Fraser looked at the VCR clock.

"So it is," he agreed. Ray gingerly pushed himself off the couch and went to retrieve the package they had brought back from the Consulate.

"Merry Christmas buddy."

"Thank you, Ray. I have something for you too." He got up and retrieved a package from his coat pocket and returned to the couch. Ray had turned on a lamp, casting a warm glow over the room.

"You first," he told Fraser. The Mountie nodded and turned his attention to his package. He began carefully unwrapping it. "God, ya unwrap just like a Mountie," Ray finally commented as Fraser was carefully rolling up the ribbon.

"Ray?" Fraser was perplexed.

"Never mind," Ray sighed. Fraser shook his head and returned to carefully removing the wrapping. Eventually he came to the box. "You didn't get many gifts as a kid, did ya?" Ray asked.

"Well, actually, no," admitted the Mountie. "How did you know?"

"'Cause ya'd still be unwrapping presents from when you were ten," Ray told him, a glint of humor in his eyes.

"Ahh. You'd like me to step up the process a bit?"

"Don't worry about it. We got almost 23 hours left." Ray was grinning now.

"Understood," Fraser said grinning back, happy to see and encourage his friend's good humor. He returned to the package and started to carefully peel back the tape.

"Oh, now yer doin' it on purpose!" Ray suddenly caught on, laughing. Fraser looked back up and grinned. He quickly finished unwrapping the present, and pulled off the box lid. Inside was a plaid flannel shirt in blues and greens on a white background. Fraser ran his hands over it. It was amazingly soft. "Figured I should replace the one I took," Ray said quietly. "Thought the colors might remind ya of home."

"It's beautiful Ray. Thank you. I will think of my home and our friendship every time I wear it."

"I hoped you'd like it," Ray said, smiling.

"I do. Very much." Fraser reached over to the coffee table and picked up his gift, handing it to Ray. "Your turn." The blond accepted it and turned it over a couple of times, then shook it. It made no noise at all. The Canadian watched smiling. Ray began to unwrap it. He tried to exhibit the same care and patience the Mountie had exhibited, but gave up halfway through and ripped the paper off. Opening the box, he pulled out a tissue wrapped object. Carefully, he removed the paper, revealing a small carved statue. Looking at it under the light, he found it was of himself, the Mountie and Diefenbaker. There was an inscription cut into the bottom.

"Dief's Pack," he read out loud. Looking up, "Fraser, this is ... this is greatness. Thank you. I love this."

"I'm glad, Ray." The blond gave him a sweet smile, the one that made the Mountie's heart twist and reminded him of all of his conflicting and messy feelings about his partner. "And I should probably be going," he said, suddenly panicked. The smile vanished.

"Why ya wanna go and do that? It's late ... well early actually. I was kind o' hopin' you'd stay, now that yer here. Please?" he added, softly.

"You're certain it won't be any trouble?" Fraser had to admit to himself that he really didn't want to leave. Far from it.

"Yes, I'm sure. 'Sides, this way I don't have to go over and get you before dinner at my folks."

"Dinner at your parents?" Fraser said questioningly.

"Yeah. I invited you ... didn't I?"

"I don't believe so, Ray."

"But you'll come, right? I mean, I thought I invited you. Can't believe I didn't ..." he was frowning.

"Ray, that's a very kind thought, but I don't want to intrude ..."

"S'not intruding. Yer family. And it'd be easier ..." Ray stopped, looking down at his hands. He hadn't meant to say that. Hadn't meant to influence the Mountie like that.

"I'd be honored to join your family for dinner," Fraser assured his friend.

"I mean, ya don't have to or anything, but you'd be welcome. My parents specif ... speci ... asked you on purpose."

"I look forward to it," Fraser assured him.

"Thanks."

"But I didn't get them anything."

"Don't worry about it, buddy. We'll just stop at the store on the way and pick up a bottle of wine. Always appropriate. Ya don't have ta drink it," he assured the Mountie. "Just sign the tag."

"Understood." Ray smiled again. Pushing himself off the couch, he limped into the bedroom and reappeared a few minutes later with a large amount of bedding. "Ray, that seems excessive. All I require is ..."

"It's for both of us. Figured we could sleep next to the tree. If I turn off the heat, it might even remind you of home a bit. In fact, ya know, if ya wanted, I could throw a few ice cubes in your blanket." He winked.

"Ahh. That's uh ... that's very thoughtful of you, Ray. I'm ... touched, but I think I'll go cubeless tonight, if it's all the same to you."

"If yer sure."

"Quite."

"All right then. Don't say I didn't offer," Ray chuckled as he started setting out blankets.

Later, Fraser lay watching his partner sleep in the light from the Christmas tree. Ray looked peaceful and relaxed in his sleep. The Mountie could still make out the bruising on his partner's face though, and it disturbed him. Ray needed help, badly. And Fraser wasn't certain he was up to the level required. But he also knew that the only way he would be able to get Ray to seek professional help at this time, would be to betray him; have him committed. And that, he knew, would hurt his friend beyond anything else. Ray trusted him, apparently more than anyone else he'd ever known. It was a tremendous responsibility and the Mountie hoped he would be able to live up to it. Dief looked up from where he was sleeping on the other side of the blond. He whined softly and reassuringly, as if sensing the Mountie's thoughts. Fraser smiled back at him, thankful that he was not completely alone in this endeavor. Between the two of them, they would find a way to protect Ray. The wolf lowered his head back to his paws. Curled up in the middle, the subject of their thoughts shifted and muttered something under his breath. Reaching out a hand, Fraser smoothed back the wild hair. Ray sighed comfortably and settled again. Fraser took his hand back, smiling. The shirt had been a lovely gift, one he would wear and cherish. But the opportunity to lie here and watch his partner sleep, knowing that he had been of some assistance to him today; that was the best gift he could have asked for. And he knew who he owed that to. "Thank you for being here this Christmas, Dad. Thank you for making me see and making me stay," he whispered.

"Frase? Who ya talkin' to?" Ray's sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Ah ... myself."

"Yourself?"

"Yes." Ray's eyes were open now and he was giving Fraser an odd look. "Perhaps in my sleep?" Fraser suggested.

"Sounded like ya said thanks ta someone for makin' ya stay."

"Well," the Mountie hesitated. "I am glad that I'm here, Ray."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Frase?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"We're friends, right?"

"Certainly."

"So, you'd tell me if somethin' was wrong?"

"Absolutely."

"So?" Fraser looked at him blankly. "You're sure everything's okay?" Ray persisted. The Canadian looked at his friend's concerned expression and smiled.

"Yes, Ray. Everything is fine." The blond looked unconvinced. Fraser smiled and reached out, putting a hand on his partner's shoulder. "Really, Ray. I'm just worried about you is all."

"I'm good."

"Really?" Ray smiled.

"Yeah. Really. I'm just ... worried about you, too, I guess."

"Perhaps that is what partners do."

"I can go with that." He shifted in closer to the Mountie's warmth. Fraser responded by pulling him in closer, leaving his arm wrapped around the smaller man. "This is nice. The tree. The lights. Bein' able to share it with someone. I haven't felt very ... I don't know ... Christmasy? ... in a long time."

"But now you do?"

"Yeah. I think ya gave me back Christmas, Frase. Thanks."

"I feel the same way, Ray. Christmas was very special when I was a child. My parents and then my grandparents had all these rituals. The tree was one of my favorites. The decorations are different of course, but somehow, just the act of putting up a tree has always meant Christmas to me. But, rituals aren't the same when you have no one to share them with. Tonight was special and I thank you for it."

"Even though ya had to stop in the middle and take care of me..."

"Shh." Fraser cut him off, with a finger over his mouth. "Ray, this has been the best Christmas Eve I have spent in years. It is starting off to be one of the best Christmas Days."

"But?"

"No buts, Ray. That is the truth."

"All you ever speak, right?"

"I try."

"Yeah, ya do." He thought for a few moments. "Merry Christmas, Ben. And thanks."

"Merry Christmas, Ray. And thank you." The blond closed his eyes again and quickly drifted back to sleep. Fraser watched him, content. "Thank you, Dad" he whispered again and then allowed himself to fall asleep as well.

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