Ray murmured and nearly rolled off my lap again. Only my hand tightening on his arm stopped him from spilling onto the floor. Ray had been conscious and manic until we'd settled into the car's backseat to go home. Then he snuffed out like a candle against my shoulder, his adrenaline strength spent. The feel of his warm breath through the serge almost drove me insane. Eventually he slid down my arm and ended up half off and half on the seat with his head in my lap. I've been trying not to think about it ever since.

Only discipline kept me awake, as training from countless eternal sentry shifts kept my eyes open. The honor of my country and my own integrity demanded no less.

That did not, however, mean that I was completely alert. Normally I would be keeping track of our traveling progress and listening to what Huey and Dewey discussed in the front. Right now I had not a clue as to our location, and their conversation only penetrated in snatches of bad jokes and talk of drum machines.

Instead, I had only enough focus for the partner sleeping across my lap. My partner, still. I listened to him breathe. I occasionally marveled that the patched-up olive sweater that had looked so disreputable on that Wailing Yankee seaman looked so utterly fetching on Ray. I hoped that his recovery from our exertions wouldn't take the three days he'd said he figured it would. At this moment, nothing else in my life mattered than to make sure he was well. And here.

Shameful and selfish behavior on my part. Dereliction of duty. I could have, maybe should have, ridden with Turnbull and Inspector Thatcher straight to the Consulate--

No, I could not have. I had to see Ray home safely. He had volunteered to help me bring those men to justice, and I'd repaid him by repeatedly endangering his life in a number of "wildly bizarre" ways. Serving as his pillow was the least I could do, the very least of what I wanted to do.

Besides, it hadn't quite sunk in yet that Ray would not be transferring away, and that I would not have to transfer out in response. Part of me expected him to vanish completely, as if he'd never existed at all.

"Hey, Fraser," Huey said.

"Yes?"

"Ray's home."

In my distraction, I hadn't realized that the car had stopped. "Understood. Thank you."

Dewey turned to look at us. "That's so cute. Can somebody give sleeping beauty here a kiss so we can get this show on the road?"

I was so tired that I started to follow what I heard as an order, bending down... I realized and snapped back up barely in time. I gently shook Ray's shoulder instead. "Ray, it's time to wake up. You're home."

Ray moved across my lap in a twisting stretch that did alarming things to me. "Don' wanna," he murmured before turning around so he faced into my... oh dear. Dewey's eyebrow should have disappeared into his hairline.

I had to get Ray off my lap. If he moved or breathed any further, I would be in dire straits. I opened the car door and tried to slide out from under him. He grabbed hold of the fabric over my knee and clutched. I nearly stumbled as I pulled loose.

"You're free. What about the rest of us?" Dewey asked.

"I'll carry him inside."

"You can pick locks?"

Actually, yes, but... "I can find Ray's keys." Oh dear again. Was I really going to do this?

I could be strong and keep my thoughts professional. I really did not want to molest Ray in his sleep.

I wanted to molest him while he was awake, but I could keep that to myself.

Denying all temptation, I put my hand into his pocket and spent as little time in there as possible. The one keyring there had his old car keys. I would have to speak to Ray about his packrat tendencies again. I tried the other pocket. This time, I couldn't get the ring free, and my efforts coaxed fascinating, tiny, breathy sounds from Ray's parted lips. I could feel... I yanked the keyring loose, and heard something tear a little. At least these were borrowed pants.

I ignored Huey and Dewey's looks as I took the keys to the door and tried to remember. Fatigued or no, I would not be found wanting. Besides, there were so many keys here it would take time to just try them all. "Don't know," "don't know," locker, old apartment... apartment. The apartment key was for Ray's own door, and the next one was indeed for his building. Once open, I propped the door so it would stay that way.

I carefully gathered Ray, all boneless long limbs, into my arms. I thought this would wake him for sure, but he just murmured and sighed. His head settled neatly against my neck, and his softly spiky hair rubbed sensuously against my skin. His solid, very real weight cradled against my chest reassured me more than anything else he or I could have done. Ray was safe and here. With me. Hands full, I pushed the door shut with my hip.

Dewey's mouth curled further, and I wondered what I could be doing wrong now. I could hardly throw Ray head-down over my shoulder in a fireman's carry, even if it would be easier to carry him that way.

"We'll wait for you," Dewey said.

"That won't be necessary; there's no need for me to keep you. I can walk to the Consulate from here."

"Sure you can, Fraser."

His smirk struck me as highly inappropriate, but I said nothing about it. "Thank you for the ride."

"No problem, Fraser," Huey said. "We're just glad you and Ray got out safe."

"Thank you again."

As I walked away, I heard Dewey yelp, "Ow! What was that for?"

"You *know* what that was for," Huey answered.

I couldn't help smiling.

******************************************************

I somehow successfully juggled Ray and the keys so I could open his door. I couldn't help feeling that I was carrying him across the threshold as we entered his apartment. As usual, being here calmed me. His home, so comfortable and eccentric and *him*, felt so welcoming that sometimes I saw it as my own.

When I set Ray down on his bed, it seemed to draw me too, as if it had its own gravitational pull. It didn't help that he'd tangled his fingers in my lanyard, nearly turning it into a noose. It took me five minutes to loosen his clutch on it. I compromised with gravity by sitting down on the bed as I removed Ray's boots and holster. He smiled in his sleep and let me do it.

Ray looked so young and peaceful this way. I touched his jaw and remembered hitting him. He had begged me to, out of guilt and pain and a need for closure. The way he saw it, he had punched me, so I had to punch him to even it out. Then it would be over. I couldn't even remember my decision to hit him, just a blur of *something*--Hurt? Anger? I still didn't know--followed by the sight of him nearly doubled over in front of me.

I remembered wanting to cut off my own hand.

I still felt the slowly healing pain of our fight. Being out of harmony with Ray had felt like being partly crippled. Yes, like being broken, halved. I had suddenly realized that I had become inextricably bound to him, but for him those bonds had become a painful trap, something he needed to escape from to be healthy.

And I understood none of it. All I knew was that he was leaving me, like everyone did, and I wasn't sure why, and I *hurt*.

Once we reestablished our connection, I felt like I could do anything. Ray's bright smile as we reaffirmed our bond and refused our transfers had been a reward more valuable than anything anyone could have given me. I had him, and now I had a better idea as to how I could keep him.

I kissed his cheek, feeling the slight scratch of stubble, and whispered, "I do trust you. All the time, with everything I am." Then I moved to get up.

"Fraser." Ray's voice sounded blurred. "Don't go. Stay..." Only half-awake, he pulled at my arm.

If I wanted to, I could resist. Instead, I let him pull me down beside him. "I intend to, Ray. I intend to." I finally let my eyes close and joined him.

*********************THE END************************

More Viridian5 stories can be found in The Green Room at http://members.tripod.com/~drovar/viridian/