Please contact me at perrymor@home.net
 
 

By: Amethyst
 
 

        Ray Kowalski pushed open the door of his apartment and stepped inside, closing the door with a quiet reverence behind him. He stared at the wreck that had been left of his apartment after it had been ransacked. He and Fraser had picked up some things, but they had little time to really organize anything, since Beth Botrelle had only a few hours left to live. He kicked at some of the papers that lay on the floor, books, letters and things that had been ripped from his desktop, really unimportant and of no sentimental value to him. Fraser had wanted to come back with him, to help clean up he claimed, but Ray knew the Mountie was simply afraid to leave him alone. He still couldn't believe he had broken down like he did, in front of Fraser, yet the Canadian had simply offered him a supportive hand on his shoulder and a comforting silence.
        Ray glanced at the collection of CD's that also littered the floor, broken cases and silver circles glinted as he threw the switch and bright florescent light flooded the apartment. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and threw it on the torn up sofa, he would have to have it reupholstered. Then he knelt and started to pick up the CD's, trying to match electronic circles with their individual cases, or at least the one's who cases weren't broken into pieces. It kept his mind busy for only a few minutes, as he worked methodologically to reorganize them in their display case. Then he moved to the books and papers, setting them in individual piles on the floor, a tedious chore he would never do in usual circumstances. He had told Fraser he was a slob, he would not deny it, but for some reason he felt the need to restore exact order to his shattered belongings.
        Next, came the furniture, picking up the extra foam and stuffing from the floor, then setting the slashed cushions back in their place. His orange beanbag stool was beyond repair, so he tossed it in the corner to take out with the trash. He set his VCR tapes and cases back on their shelf, Fraser and he had already straightened the majority of the electronics and the kitchen, most were undamaged. The man hadn't gotten to Ray's bedroom, thankfully, which was really where he kept his valuables and things he treasured, as well as his spare gun, the paper the man was after had been found in an empty black, movie case in the living room.
        Ray's eye caught the small coffee table, that was still littered with his newspaper and assorted bills from that week, he noticed the coffee stains on the papers closest to the edge. It had been what tipped Fraser off that the paper they had in evidence was not the same paper Ray had found on the dead body of Mr. Botrelle. He stared at the stained half circles for a long time, then suddenly, his self imposed calm was shattered and he kicked the table viciously, again and again he kicked it until it was nothing but a pile of splinters on the carpet. He snatched up the papers and tore them in two, then four pieces, continuing to tear them until there were nothing but tiny confetti sized bits left, as tears streamed down his face. He let the papers filter from his fingers, watching them drift downward like tiny snowflakes and noticed his hands were shaking.
        She had thanked him. Beth Botrelle would not except his apology as he led her through the night of the murder, though he could tell it was tearing her apart. The fear, the disillusionment, the injustice of all those years behind bars and the relief that after four tries her life was finally spared for good. Instead, she kissed him and thanked him, embracing him like he was her savior and Ray almost lost it. He had managed to return the embrace shakily, confused, afraid and angry at her reaction. How could she thank him for sending her to prison on a rookie mistake? She almost died because of him, he took years away from her life and she thanked him, forgave him, how bizarre was that? He had wanted her to hate him, hit him, yell at him, spit at him, anything to prove that she didn't deserve what he did to her, but even at their first meeting she had lied to make him feel better, she had forgiven him and Ray couldn't handle it. He could not forgive himself, perhaps he never would, yet she had forgiven him.
        His anger spent, at least momentarily, he wandered into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror over the sink. Dimly he heard his phone ring but ignored it, he wasn't in the mood to talk and it was probably Fraser checking on him. He returned his gaze to the mirror, his eyes were red and glassy from crying, his pale skin streaked from his tears and his hair, from running his hands through it over and over, looked like he had just rolled out of bed.
        "You suck!" Ray spit at his reflection. "You stupid shit, you screwed up piece of trash, they shoulda sent you to the chair, given you the damn needle. You almost got her killed, you ruined her life you sonovabitch!"
        He slammed his fist into the mirror, mindless of the razor sharp glass that sliced into his knuckles, he couldn't look at himself, couldn't face what he had done. He stared down at the shards of jagged mirror in the sink, briefly registering the trickles of red that flowed from his fisted hand and dropped easily into the white porcelain below. He picked up a piece of the glass, turning it over and over between his fingers, like he sometimes did with a quarter when he was bored. He heard the knock at his door, again ignoring the intrusion into his self imposed hell, and brought the shard to rest against his wrist. It would be so easy, the veins were well exposed, and it was certainly less than he deserved, since Beth Botrelle's would have been taken by the state, it seemed a cop out that he should have a choice of when and how he died.
        "Ray?" a quiet, hesitant voice called to him from the bathroom doorway. He turned slightly dazed, dropping the shard back into the sink, and was not that surprised to see the his partner standing there watching him carefully. He had expected Fraser to arrive sooner or later, the Mountie didn't take no for an answer to often, but never would he have thought he would get there so quickly, or happen upon the detective in such a sorry state.
        "G...g..go a..a...away!" Ray was ashamed and appalled that he was so far gone that his childhood impediment was back He muttered letting his head drop as he stared once again down at the sink. He hadn't stammered since he was fourteen, he had worked hard to correct it, despite the ridicule and beatings he took as a kid because of the embarrassing infirmity.
        "I..I came by to help you clean up..." Fraser remarked cautiously, his gaze holding nothing but sympathy and concern for his friend. "You're hurt Ray." Ray didn't know if Fraser was merely speaking of his hand, or the intent knowledge that he was aware Kowalski's pain went much deeper.
        "I..I...I..." Ray slammed his hand against the sink and willed himself to calm down enough to talk, furious that Fraser was seeing him this way. Why couldn't the Canadian take a hint and just stayed away. He gritted his teeth and forced the words to roll smoothly from his mouth. "Go home." He didn't dare attempt Fraser's name in his current predicament, F's had never been easy and he needed to regroup and remember the training the counselors had installed within him to beat the stammering.
        "Ray, your hand is bleeding." Fraser commented and Ray glanced down at his left hand, as though seeing the blood for the first time. He shrugged.
        "It's f..f...f...." F***K! He hated this, why couldn't Fraser leave him alone? Fraser stepped further into the room, approaching him hesitantly. When he had come into the apartment and found Ray in the bathroom with that glass to his wrist, his instinct was to wrestle it quickly from his distraught partner. Logic had caused him to control his response, sensing such an action would only have made matters worse and have sent the detective over the edge. Fraser put her hand out to touch Ray's injured one.
        "Let me see it, Ray." He offered but the detective snatched his hand back, grabbed a towel to wrap around it, and stormed off onto the living room. Fraser followed, watching him closely as he moved to the windows and stared out at the evening skyline. He had been crying again and Fraser immediately felt guilty for not offering his friend more support earlier when Ray had come from Beth Botrelle's home and started sobbing inside the car. When Ray calmed down and drove back to the Consulate, Fraser automatically offered to accompany his partner back to the apartment, yet part of Fraser was relieved when Ray said he wanted to be alone. Fraser had never been very good at emotional displays, perhaps it was time to get over it, he never should have let Ray come back on his own. Now it seemed that Ray was reverting to perhaps a childhood ailment of stammering and he sensed the detective's embarrassment.
        "Go home, Mountie." Ray hissed, Fraser noticed the replacement of his last name specifically and again he felt terrible for Ray.
        "Not until you let me look at your hand, Ray.' Fraser insisted determined. "You may need stitches, at least let me clean the cuts for you and..." Ray turned to him, his eyes flashing and his expression stormy.
        "You t..t...think I can't t..t...take care of myself, F...F...F..Fraser?" he demanded angrily, his face red with the effort to form his partner's name "Well, I can, I've been doin' it f.f..fer awhile now so leave me t...t...the hell alone!"
        "You needn't be so bossy, Ray." Fraser deflected, unimpressed, used to his partner's emotional outbursts, they didn't phase him anymore. "You look like hell, you've been under considerable emotional strain and now you've gone and hurt yourself. Now either let me look at your damn hand or I call your Mother and she'll come over and look at it."
        Ray didn't know which shocked him more, Fraser's swearing and demands or the idea of his Mother coming by and seeing her son in such a state. Somehow, he knew the Mountie would make good on the threat, knowing it was the one thing that was Ray's weakness; his protectiveness of his parents. Ray shot him a scathing look, then realized it was a no win situation and gave in with a sigh. He carefully unwrapped his now throbbing hand and presented it to his partner. Fraser pulled him into the kitchen and held it under the water, cleaning the blood away so he could see the extent of the injury. Ray bit his lip, not willing to show how much pain the action caused him. Fraser told him to stay put and that he was going to look for some antibiotic cream and bandages, which he found reasonably quickly in the bathroom. The cuts themselves were not that deep, but there were a lot of them, and Fraser quickly salved cream across his partner's now swollen knuckles and applied bandages, then wrapped his hand in an ace bandage for good measure.
        The moment the bandage was secured Ray moved away from him and stalked toward the small sofa. He shoved the remaining pieces of the coffee table out of the way and dropped down on the ruined cushions, throwing an arm over his eyes disagreeably. Fraser pulled two cups from the kitchen cupboard and set about making tea. He glanced back at Ray before pulling a small pouch from his front jeans pocket and drizzling a leafy substance into the bottom of one of the cups, then covering it with a tea bag. He added a tea bag to the other cup and waited for the kettle to boil. He knew Ray didn't like tea very much, and his conscience pricked at him for only a moment, but then he dismissed it. Ray hadn't slept in over forty eight hours and he knew the heavy emotional state that the detective was in now would not offer him sleep any time in the near future either. Fraser was doing this for Ray's own good, it was simple as that.
        When the kettle boiled, Fraser poured the hot, steaming water into the cups, steeped the teabags by pushing in repeatedly on them with the spoon, then added milk and a generous helping of sugar to Ray's cup. He brought them over to where Ray lay, realizing he had nothing to set them on now, with a glance at the mangled table, so he simply nudged Ray with his elbow. Ray sat up with a groan and took his cup, then made a face when he sipped it.
        "I hate tea, F..Fraser." he muttered and Fraser was glad his stammering had gotten under control once again, he knew his friend must be terribly embarrassed over it.
        "Drink it anyway, Ray." Demanded Fraser quietly. "It will relax you." Ray shrugged, he needed that at least so he would stop the cursed stammering, so he took another sip and grimaced. "Let it cool a bit then drink it all down and it won't be as bad, Ray."
        Ray sighed and did as he was told, then set the cup on the floor and lay back against the cushions, to stare at the ceiling. Fraser knew he was still struggling with his inner demons, when he saw a single tear slip from the corner of one eye.
        "God, I hate myself, Fraser." He sobbed. "Why did I do that to her?"
        "It wasn't your fault, Ray." Fraser insisted, again wanting to comfort his friend and unsure how to do it. He cursed himself for his fear of touching someone. It wouldn't matter in a few minutes anyway, Ray would be angry with him but he would get over it. Already he saw his friend's eye lids starting to droop.
        Ray forced his eyes open, shocked to find himself so tired all of a sudden, and not just tired, he could barely keep his eyes open. Again he pulled his eyes wide and shook his head, he didn't want to sleep right now he ...he glanced at Fraser who was watching him closely, then dropped his gaze to the tea cup on the floor.
        "W..what did you do, Fraser?" he demanded suddenly bolting from the sofa, fighting the effects of the drug that threatened to over take him. "Y..what did you put in that tea?"
        "It's a natural herb that will help you sleep, Ray." Admitted Fraser, still watching him, but having set his own cup on the floor, as though waiting for the coming confrontation. "You needed to rest and I knew you wouldn't do so willingly. Please don't be angry I was only..."
        "You drugged me!" Ray screamed stumbling backward and catching hold of the back of his chair to steady himself, his limbs felt like rubber. "You drugged yer own partner?"
        "It isn't a drug, Ray." Fraser assured approaching him, but Ray stepped back again. "It will have no lasting effects and no side effects, it will just allow you too sleep." Ray stared at him, his eyes watering with the effort it took to keep them open.
        "That's not buddies Fraser." He almost seemed to whispered. "N..Not bud..." Fraser caught him before he hit the floor and carefully slung him over his shoulder. Ray's shock that the Mountie would betray his trust so was almost too much for Fraser and he immediately wished he hadn't done it. Now it was too late, but the outcome would be the same, Ray would be angry but he would also be rested and be able to see things in a better light when he awoke.
        Fraser walked into the bedroom and pulled back the sheets on the bed, then carefully set his sleeping friend upon them. He quickly removed Ray's shoulder holster and undershirt, then pulled off the man's boots, socks and jeans. He placed Ray's ankle holster and boot gun on the bedside table, silently praying the detective wouldn't use it on him the following morning, and deciding to leave the blonde's shorts on, he pulled the sheets up over him. As an afterthought he removed Ray's watch and bracelet and set them on the table beside the gun, as Diefenbaker, who had stayed out of the way until this point, perhaps sensing the two men would need the time alone, hopped up on Ray's bed and snuggled protectively against the American.
        "Watch him." Fraser instructed as he left the room and pulled the door partially shut. Fraser surveyed the remaining mess of Ray's apartment, made a mental note of what needed to be done, then set about doing it.
 
 

        Ray awoke to the sounds of soft snoring and a warm body pressed up against his, and for a moment he thought he was back married to Stella. He shifted from his position on his stomach and rolled carefully onto his back, then screamed at the sight of a wolf's razor sharp teeth and tonsils. Diefenbaker finished his yawn and tilted his head puzzled at the form on the floor next to the bed, where Ray had jumped from the sheets in fright.
        "Ray!" Fraser called, hurrying into the bedroom and finding the detective holding his heart and glaring at the wolf that was still curled comfortably on his bed. He moved to help Ray untangle himself from the sheets that had slid off the bed with him, and helped the blond to his feet. "Are you all right?"
        "Yeah." Grunted Ray in return, settling back onto the bed, after shoving the wolf away from him half in anger half in disgust at scaring him to death. Diefenbaker sniffed and moved to lick Ray's face. "Don't try and make up." Ray refused pushing the wolf away again, but this time he wore a small grin.
        "Are you hungry Ray?" inquired Fraser politely, reprimanding Diefenbaker shooing him from the room. Ray shook his head and glanced at the clock on the night stand.
        "Is it really six in the evening?" he demanded in shock and Fraser nodded solemnly. Ray had slept almost twenty four hours, but he could tell from his partner's improved coloring and relaxed state that it had been worth it. Ray's eyes narrowed on Fraser and the Mountie swallowed, knowing what was coming. "You drugged me."
        "Yes, Ray." Admitted Fraser contritely, "You needed to rest." Fraser waited for the American's outburst, surprised when it didn't happen. Instead Ray relaxed back against the head board and closed his eyes form a moment again.
        "Thanks." He murmured quietly and Fraser raised an eyebrow that he had been forgiven so easily, until Ray opened one eye and shot him a warning look. "But if you ever do it again I'll kill ya."
        "Understood." Agreed Fraser repentant. "You really should try to eat something, Ray." Ray nodded and carefully slid from the bed, he felt amazingly refreshed, Fraser was right there were no side effects to whatever drug, herb, or potion the Canadian had given him. He stretched lazily.
        "I'm gonna grab a shower first, Frase." He decided heading for his bathroom, pausing as he passed his partner. He placed a hesitant hand on Fraser's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "Yer a good buddy, I appreciate ya." Fraser tried to quell the rising sense of joy his partner's words instilled in him. Grabbing Ray in a ferocious bear hug right now would not be appropriate, yet Fraser had to force himself not to shout out loud how much Ray's simple praise had meant to him. Instead he nodded and waited until the bathroom door shut behind the blond before returning to the kitchen and placing an order for a Hawaiian pizza.
        Ray joined him a short time later, he had taken his time in the shower, as Ray always did, and he glanced around at how meticulously neat and tidy his formerly shambled apartment now was. He noticed the new coffee table, quite similar to his old one, replacing the one Ray had broken, beside the couch, which sported new covers on the cushions and backing. He ran a hand over the soft material of his newly upholstered couch and matching chair. His entertainment center had been dusted and rearranged with his movies and knickknacks as they had been previously, he detected the slight smell of lemon pledge as he drew closer and traced some of his figurines. Obviously Fraser had done all of this, but the fact that the Canadian remembered exactly where everything had been, down to the smallest detail, shocked Ray so completely he felt tears spring to his eyes. Sure the Mountie had been to his apartment numerous times, but he never realized Fraser's gift of total recall would e applied to Ray's surroundings.
        "Ah, there you are." Remarked Fraser, moving from the front door, where he held a pizza in one hand and a six pack of soda in the other. "Dinner is served Ray." Ray turned toward him, observed his eagerly helpful gaze and blinked a second spawning of tears away.
        "'kay, Frase." He returned moving to his CD collection, silently reprimanding himself for being such a marshmallow all of a sudden. What was wrong with him? "Just lemmie put on some tunes." Fraser nodded pleased and moved to set their dinner on the new coffee table. Ray found the particular CD he was searching for, then the pleasant sounds of Bette Middler filled the tiny apartment; he knew Fraser liked this particular selection and he watched his partner's face light up as Ray joined him on the sofa. He had donned a faded pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt, but left his feet bare. Fraser was still in his white turtleneck and jeans from yesterday and Ray wondered if he had slept. He decided to voice the question.
        "Yes, I stretched out on the sofa, Ray." He informed as they both selected a piece of pizza from the box and slid them onto the plates Fraser had brought from the kitchen. "I spoke also with Leftenant Welsh and he insisted you take today and tomorrow off." He noticed Ray's wary expression. "I merely told him you were exhausted Ray and needed to rest."
        "What about you?" Ray asked, after swallowing his first mouthful of pizza. "Did ya go to work today?" Fraser shook his head.
        "No, I took a personal day to get some things taken care of, but I work tomorrow." Ray glanced at the table and the couch on which the sat.
        "Yah, so I see." Fraser simply offered him a small smile and a noncommittal shrug. "Thanks Frase, I...I appreciate it. I'll pay ya back fer whatever ya spent."
        "Think nothing of it, Ray." Dismissed Fraser easily. "You've spent three times as much feeding me and driving me around, it was the least I could do." Ray shrugged and took an interest in his food, peeling a piece of ham off and feeding it to Diefenbaker, who sat eagerly beside him. "You spoil him , Ray."
        "Yah, I know." Agreed Ray, giving the wolf another strip of meat. He couldn't help it, he'd only had one dog growing up, the one he told Fraser about that died, and Diefenbaker just always seemed so happy to see him. He felt guilty when he didn't share with the animal, especially when he set those sad eyes on him. He knew Fraser didn't approve, but hell, Diefenbaker was his buddy, a little junk food wouldn't hurt him, and it was worth it to receive those slobbery kisses the animal occasionally bestowed on him.
        "Would you care to talk about it, Ray?" Fraser inquired, pushing away his fear of intimate conversation for the time being. This was his friend, he needed to be there for Ray.
        "Nah, I..I think I'm about talked out, Frase." The detective returned, dropping his half eaten pizza back onto the plate and setting it in the table, he simply wasn't hungry; hadn't even opened his soda. Fraser watched him quietly for a moment, wishing he knew what to say to make Ray feel better. He was sure the blond was still blaming himself and holding things in and that both angered and worried him. He couldn't help if Ray refused to admit to the problem.
        "I think you should talk some more, Ray." He issued boldly, receiving a startled look from his partner. "I think it would help you put things in perspective." He paused, waiting for Ray to comment but the American simply lay his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. Perhaps if Fraser offered a similar experience of his own, it would help, but the only instance that came close was the one he was most reluctant to discuss, even with someone he felt as close to as he did the man beside him. He realized Ray was speaking again and concentrated his attention to his friend once more.
        "Maybe you should go, buddy. Get some sleep and stuff. Ya don't gotta baby-sit me." Fraser frowned, he did not want to leave Ray alone again, at least not until he was sure the detective wouldn't do something drastic, and that he wasn't sure of yet, despite Ray's outer appearance of calm.
        "Do you want me to leave, Ray?" he inquired quietly, noticing that Ray kept his eyes closed. The Mountie was shocked by his friend's honestly.
        "Yah, Benton buddy," Ray admitted. "I really do."
        "I'm sorry, Ray." Refused Fraser gently. "I am not prepared to do that until I am sure you will be all right." Ray sighed.
        "I'm fine now, honest. I'm fine now. I just got a little wacky there fer awhile."
        "I'm sorry, Ray." Fraser shook his head. "I don't believe you are alright, not yet anyway. I can sense your anger building and I know you are extremely stressed, despite your attempts to hide it." Ray growled low in his throat and rolled off the sofa, almost tripping over the wolf that lay at his feet, then moved to stare out at the darkening skyline of Chicago.
        "I said I was okay, isn't that enough?" he demanded. "Can't ya just trust me on this one, Fraser?"
        "Of course I trust you, Ray." Fraser stated quickly. "This isn't about trust, it's about my concern for you're well being." He paused, to see if Ray was going to respond, and when he didn't he continued. "I..I know what you are going through, Ray. I remember a time..."
        "If you tell me an Inuit story right now, Fraser I swear..." threatened Ray.
        "No, it isn't an Inuit story, Ray." The Mountie assured with a small smile, which quickly faded as he continued. "I was speaking of my own experience. I made a mistake once that..changed the life of someone I truly cared about." Ray turned to watch him quietly, surprised Fraser was actually offering such personal information about himself.
        "Victoria?" Ray guessed and Fraser nodded.
        "I should have let her go, Ray." He admitted, now it was his turn to look away, unable to meet the detective's eyes due to his personal shame. "I could have let her go, no one even knew that I had found her. She would have been free and no one would be the wiser."
        "She was a criminal, Fraser." Ray stated, seeing the agony on the Mountie's usually passive features. "You were doing your job. You had to bring her in."
        "But I could have let her go, Ray." Fraser stressed, running his thumb across his brow and shifting from one foot to the other. "It was in my power to do so and I let my sense of duty prevail. I couldn't help thinking that if she hadn't gone to prison, she wouldn't have become so...cold and vindictive. She would never have tried to ruin mine and Ray Vecchio's lives. Maybe she would have changed if I had let her go that first time, perhaps become a better person."
        "From what I read in Vecchio's file and what small bit you have told me about her, I doubt that woulda happened, Buddy." Ray determined firmly, his own despair momentarily forgotten in the wake of his friend's pain. "You said yerself, she had a darkness in her, nothin' you did or didn't do could change who she was. She decided what she was doin' and what life she wanted, it ain't yer fault, Frase."
        "How can you be so sure, Ray?" Fraser inquired curious. "I contributed to her being in prison and it was her experience in there that she claimed changed her." Ray shook his head.
        "But you had no way of knowin' how it would effect her, Fraser. You were just doin' yer job, ya can't second guess yerself. What's done is done."
        "I knew as much as you did when you found Jake Botrelle's body, Ray." Fraser implied and Ray suddenly realized what the Mountie had been doing. "I made the best judgment I could under extreme circumstances, just like you did. How is it you expect me to live with my decision but you can't live with yours?" Ray turned back toward the window, furious he had let the man get the better of him.
        "Do not go there, Fraser." he requested, his thumb making a tell tale gesture of anxiety as it ran the length of his right brow, while his other hand was balanced against the wall. "Victoria didn't go to death row, she wasn't marked for execution. She didn't almost die because of yer one mistake, but Beth Botrelle did. She almost died because'a me, don't you understand that?"
        "But, Ray, " Fraser argued. "You saved her, you made things right again. Anyone else would have just let her be executed and not reopened the investigation. Anyone else would have had no sympathy for a convicted cop killer, especially when it was based on their first real case."
        "It ain't the same, Fraser!" Ray exclaimed turning to glare at his partner and Fraser could hear the barely contained fury in his voice. "She never shoulda gone there. If I had just read that damn note...if I hadn't been afraid to speak up about contaminating the crime scene..."
        "You didn't even realize you had until just recently, Ray." Reminded Fraser quietly. "And you did get her set free, Ray. You stayed the execution and managed to save her life."
        "It ain't enough!" Ray screamed at him. "Don't ya get it? It ain't nearly enough for what she went through." His voice cracked as he turned back toward the window and when his spoke again his tone was painfully soft.  "Eight years! Eight wasted years! I ain't got it in me ta....I don't want'cha ta see..." His thumb traced a path along his cheek and jaw. "Just go home Fraser, please."
        "I can't go home until you talk to me, Ray." Insisted Fraser, rising from the sofa to join his friend by the window. "What is it you are afraid I will see? I've seen you angry, sad, confused, frustrated, I've seen you in almost every possibly emotional state." He suppressed a shudder at the recently suicidal state he had witnessed. "You will not shock me, or offend me. I am you're partner and your friend and I will still be those things no matter what." Ray started to move away from him but Fraser reached out and caught hold of his arm, pulling his friend around to face him.
        "Damnit, Fraser!" Ray exclaimed trying to shake the Canadian's steel grip on his biceps. "You want me to pop ya?" Fraser stared at him, perhaps that was what Kowalski needed was to get physical, to vent.
        "Would it make you feel better if you did?" he dared, not releasing the arm he held prisoner.
        "No!" Ray declared aghast. "I don't wanna hit ya, Frase! I swore I'd never hit ya again." Fraser was stunned at his friend's admission, he had no idea Ray still felt so strongly about striking him that one time, but he still did not release him. Ray pulled against the Mountie's strength, the urge to actually hit his partner was growing, as the urge always did when Ray became as upset as he now was, but he refused to give into it. "Please just go." He requested of Fraser quietly.
        "No, Ray." Fraser refused and he saw the dangerous steel glint of anger in Ray's stormy blue eyes "I am staying." He knew the inner struggle the detective was going through but he remained firm.
        "Yer bein' rude, Fraser." Ray stated, hoping that would convince the Mountie that he had overstayed his welcome. It didn't Fraser simply ignored the comment and grabbed Ray's other arm, forcing him to meet his gaze.
        "Talk to me, Ray." He pleaded. "Or hit me, yell, scream, let it out for God's sake I can tell it is eating you up inside." Ray struggled to get away from him. First his partner drugged him now he was manhandling him, what the hell was Fraser's problem anyway? Fraser's jaw tightened. "I will not leave until I am sure you won't..." he broke off and Ray's eyes widened in alarm at the tears that suddenly swarmed the Mountie's eyes. "I will not loose you, Ray Kowalski. Do you hear me? I refuse to allow you to let this undeserved guilt drive you to do something that would take you away from me."
        Ray stared at him in shock. Fraser was scared, no terrified that he would try and kill himself. The Mountie was on the verge of tears at the idea that he might do something so drastic.
        "I..I won't Frase." He managed numbly. "I..I ain't gonna... I won't leave ya buddy. Yer stuck wit me, at least 'till Vecchio comes back." Fraser shook his head, unaware that his fingers were cutting into Ray's tender flesh.
        "I...Ray, you are my partner now, Vecchio or no Vecchio." He stated gruffly and Ray felt tears spring to his own eyes.
        "T..thanks Frase." He croaked, then suddenly found himself enveloped in strong Canadian arms. He returned the embrace, enjoying the feel of another person being close to him, it had been a long time since he had that luxury.
        "You really scared me, Ray." Fraser whispered. "Please don't ever do that again."
        "I won't, Benton Buddy." Ray promised. "If I do ya got permission ta kick me in the head, 'kay?" Ray felt Fraser's chuckle before he heard it and allowed a small smile of his own to form. A whine next to them caught their attention and both men stepped away from each other awkwardly and stared down at the wolf gazing up at them mournfully.
        "Oh for heaven's sake!" huffed Fraser deliberately, discretely brushing a tear from the corner of his eye.
        "Jealous, are ya Dief?" Grinned Ray, reaching down to ruffle the animal's fur. "Yer still my favorite wolf, fella." Diefenbaker rewarded the comment by jumping up and lathering Ray's face cheerfully. "Ewwwe, knock it off! I ain't a damn lollipop." Diefenbaker was undeterred by the detective's offensiveness, he knew Ray didn't really mean it.
        "He is impossibly spoiled." Fraser remarked casually, his voice now back to normal.
        "What say we go rent some movies, Frase?" suggested Ray heading into his bedroom for his socks and boots.
        "That sounds like a fine idea, Ray." Agreed Fraser, pleased that things seemed back to normal for them. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to become so emotional in Ray's presence, certainly he hadn't meant to divulge the detective's importance in his life, at least not so bluntly, yet it worked out for the best. Part of him was relieved that he felt comfortable enough that he could express himself. Ray returned, pulling him out of his deep thoughts and Fraser followed the detective out of the apartment, with Diefenbaker close behind.
 
 

        Ray was leaned against Francesca's desk, speaking quietly and sipping his coffee from a Styrofoam cup. She was, for once, very intent on what he was saying, offering her advice when appropriate. She was touched that he had come to her with his dilemma, but then Ray was always doing things that surprised her. Just when she thought she had him figures out he did something totally out of character, or at least the character she had drawn of him.
        "I think that would be the best thing, Ray." She finished gently, placing a friendly palm on his arm, then letting it slide down to wrap her fingers in his and give a quick reassuring squeeze. He surprised her yet again as he leaned down and kissed her cheek affectionately.
        "Thanks Frannie." He murmured gratefully. "I appreciate yer listenin'." She smiled shyly, noticing he hadn't yet released her hand, nor did she pull away.
        "Anytime, bro." She offered genuinely. Hewy and Dewy walked up and she watched Ray's smiling face harden under a cold mask as he dropped her hand and she watched it slowly curl into a fist.
        "Hey, Ray." Greeted Dewy and returned the greeting amiably, he'd never had a problem with Thomas, it was his partner that seemed to irk Kowalski at every turn. He was still pissed over the way Hewy had acted during the Botrelle case, crowing about her execution like it was slugfest on Jerry Springer.
        "Can I talk to you a minute, Vecchio?" Hewy asked, obviously uncomfortable, and Francesca sensed the usually cock-sure and arrogant detective was getting ready to eat crow.
        "You got nothin' I wanna hear, Hewy." Ray stated pushing off Francesca's desk, offering her a soft smile, then turning cold again as he headed back to his own desk. Hewy followed.
        "Listen, Ray..." he began and Ray held up his hand in warning.
        "It ain't me ya need ta apologize to." He informed pulling a file from his stack and dropping into his chair, noticeably attempting to ignore the hovering detective. Jack Hewy never did have much patience and he refused to be ignored.
        "Look, I'm tryin' to be nice about this Vecchio." He hissed. "We thought she had killed a cop, her own husband, any of us would have reacted the same way; even you had ya not been so involved in the case. But if ya wanna be technical let's not forget who put Beth Botrelle behind bars in the first place because of being a complete screwup." Hewy had barely finished his last sentence when Ray was over his desk and had him by the throat. Francesca screamed as she and Dewey lunged with a few other officers to separate them before Ray actually killed him. Dewey and another cop had helped Hewy up, holding him to prevent him from going after Kowalski who was being held by Fraser and Francesca, who was actually just trying to calm him. Frannie had never been so relieved to see Fraser show up at that particular moment, knowing if anyone could control Ray it was the Mountie.
        "Yer askin' for it man!" Hewy screamed at him, hoarsely, spitting the blood from his mouth where Ray had stuck him. "Yer certifiable." Welsh approached, as always his presence quieted everyone. Ray had relaxed slightly and was no longer fighting Fraser's hold on him, Frannie was wiping the blood from his chin where Hewy had cuffed him only once to Ray's three.
        "Gentlemen, I assume there is a reason my officers are resorting to physical violence in the middle of my squad room floor and it had better be good or both of you will find yerselves on three day suspension."
        "Ray was provoked, Lieutenant." Came a feminine voice from behind them and everyone turned to stare at Assistant District Attorney Stella Kowalski. "I heard what Detective Hewy said to him and frankly I would have punched him myself for it, had Ray not gotten to him first." Welsh and Fraser raise an eyebrow, Hewy gaped at her shocked and Ray's expression for once was completely unreadable. Perhaps he couldn't believe she had just threatened a fellow officer, or the fact that she was defending Ray's position was most likely the most unbelievable.
        "You seem to take great pains to go out of your way to aggravate Detective Vecchio, Jack." Welsh remarked quietly, even as he glanced at Ray. "Knowing he has a short fuse, you'd think you would be smart enough to stay out of his line of fire, but you don't. He sighed. "I'm sorry, but I can't abide my officers brawling with one another. Do either of you wish to press assault charges?" Both men shook their heads. "Then I have no choice but to put you both on three day's suspension." Hewy looked like he was going to blow a gasket.
        "Because a him I gotta be suspended? He shouldn't even be a cop, he's got the temperament of a damn psychopath!" he declared pointing an accusing finger at Kowalski. "He hit me first."
        "You instigated it detective." Welsh stated firmly. "Perhaps next time you'll think before letting that mouth of yours wander off without coherent thought attached." Welsh turned and walked away. Hewy turned to his partner, who shook his head and walked away as well. After another quick glare at Kowalski, Hewy stomped over to his desk to retrieve his things and try to talk to Tom. Stella walked up to Ray as Fraser finally released him completely. She placed a warm palm to his face and shook her head.
        "What am I going to do with you, Ray?" she sighed, allowing herself the luxury of caressing his unshaven cheek He offered her a shy grin and turned into her touch.
        "Whatever ya want, Stella." He murmured honestly, then more seriously. "Thanks, fer what ya said." She shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with their proximity. If only he didn't look at her with those beautifully soft eyes of his, if only the love she saw in them didn't blind her so badly, even now years after they had parted.
        "I just told the truth, Ray." She dismissed, not wanting her ex husband to read anymore into it, she couldn't take it if she had to reject him again because he got his hopes up about them.
        "Ya defended me." He supplied. "That was nice. I...thanks." He lowered his intense gaze finally from hers and she was both relieved and disappointed. He looked like he wanted to say more, but then seemed to change his mind and leaned forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek, then moved to retrieve his jacket from his desk chair.
        Stella watched as he said good-bye to Francesca, then walked out of the precinct with Fraser close behind him. The Mountie glanced back long enough to see the District Attorney touch the place Ray had kissed and witnessed the sad and wistful look in her eyes, as she gazed after them. She caught Fraser staring and quickly turned on her heel to walk the other way. Fraser shook his head and hurried to catch up with his partner.
 
 

        Four days later, Ray was back at work, and things had seemed to be back to normal. He'd listened to what Francesca had said and wrote a letter to Beth Botrelle. It had taken him two days to finish and another day before he got the courage to drop it off at her house, luckily she hadn't been home or he probably would have lost his nerve. Francesca had been right, he did feel better now that he had managed to put on paper all the things that he had wanted to say to the woman who's life he believed he had ruined. The guilt had eased somewhat and he was sleeping again, at least more than he had been and the nightmares had lessened as well. Fraser said he would be late getting off and would not be at the station today, so Ray agreed to pick him up after work to grab a bite to eat.
        The station's usual noise and bustle suddenly quieted and Ray was compelled to glance up to see what had caused the disturbing silence. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Beth Botrelle, her thin frame draped in a tan raglan, clutching her purse to her chest, her hair damp from the rain falling outside. She took a hesitant step toward further inside the squad room, painfully aware of all the eyes upon her. Cops eyes, he same cops that had wanted her dead just a week or so earlier. Ray rose from his chair and approached her, wanting to protect her from any further discomfort yet puzzled as to why she was here. He was surprised when she finally noticed him and a relieved smile spread across her pale featured.
        "W...what can I do for you, ma'am?" Ray asked her cautiously.
        "I..I'd like too talk to you if I may." She requested. "I..if you aren't too busy." Ray shook his head and put his hand to the small of her back, guiding her into one of the interviewing rooms. He closed the door, made sure it was the one without the two way mirror, so there would be no chance of someone eavesdropping on their conversation. He helped her off with her coat and waited until she was seated before taking the chair opposite her. Ray watched her glance around nervously, probably remembering the last time she was in a room like this one, and he immediately wished he's taken her somewhere else.
        "We can go..." he began but she shook her head, as though reading his mind.
        "This is fine, just...strange." She offered him another smile. She placed her purse on the table, pulled from it a familiar looking envelope, and Ray's heart leapt to his throat. "I read your letter, Detective." Ray lowered his eyes, unsure what to say. "I've read it twice actually. At first I...I wasn't going to read it at all, you know old wounds and such..but then I did and...I'm glad." She reached and placed her hand over his. "I wanted to tha..." Ray bolted from his chair and shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned away from her.
        "D..don't thank me again." He pleaded. "I..I don't deserve your gratitude. I'm glad I could help...but it doesn't change the fact that I'm the reason you were in there in the first place, so please do not thank me for correcting something that never should have happened." Beth Botrelle sat quietly for a long time, when she finally spoke, her tone held an unexpected wistful approach.
        "I need your help Detective Kowalski." Ray turned to her.
        "Anything." He agreed quickly. He was surprised when she set his letter down and rose from her chair, moving to stand before him.
        "I find that I am..untrusting of police officers now." Ray nodded, considering the way she had been treated and the fact that her husband's own partner had been the direct cause of her misery, it didn't surprise him that she hated the people who had turned against her.
        "I can understand that." He muttered despairingly.
        "I don't want to stay that way, detective." She insisted, her voice shaking with emotion. "I was a cop's wife for a long time, it was as much a part of my life as it was my husbands, yet now I can't bear the thought of being in the same room with another officer." Ray nodded, sometimes he didn't want to be in a room with them either.
        "I'm a cop." Ray reminded gently. 'Yer in a room with me." She nodded and again a small smile formed on her lips, but did not reach her eyes.
        "That's why I need your help." She reached out hesitantly, before grasping his hand in hers. She turned it over and ran her finger along his palm, examining the calluses closely. "I need you to help me get over my mistrust. I..I need you to...to be my friend." Ray stared at her in shock.
        "You can't mean that!" he gasped. "I put you in jail fer eight years, Beth! I almost got ya killed! How could ya want me to yer friend? That's crazy!"
        "I know I can trust you, Kow...Ray." Again that cautious smile. "You believe in justice. You aren't blinded by circumstances and..." She reached up to place a hand on either side of his face, holding his gaze to hers. "You have a good heart and soul. I know I can trust you because you messed up in the investigation and because you corrected it."
        "Eight  years too late!" Ray reminded stubbornly.
        "Not too late." She defended. "I'm still alive, Ray. I'm still here thanks to you." She moved away from him and retrieved his letter. "The things you wrote in here, they tell me the kind of person you are. They also tell me you blame yourself for entirely too much of what happened." She paused for a moment, as though gathering her thoughts. "Detective Jack Hewy came to see me yesterday." Ray's eyes widened in shock and she almost laughed at his expression. "He showed me his busted lip and black eye, informed me you had given it to him because of something he had said about me." She turned and met his gaze once again. "He said you defended me valiantly Ray, no other person would have done that. I know what cops can be like when someone doesn't go with the flow of their views, sometimes it can be suicide for your career, others causes altercations. They had all tried and convicted me before I was even booked and charged. But you defended me, despite all of it."
        "But not until..." Ray began and she dismissed his words with a wave of her hand.
        "It doesn't matter if you did it during the trial or after my death, Ray." She insisted, watching the detective pale at the mention of her possible demise. "You still did what was right. You believed in me when no one, not even my own attorney took my side. Even after I had told you I killed my husband, you believed in me, Ray.
        "Why?" Ray suddenly demanded, appalled when his voice cracked. "Why did you tell me that? Why did you try to make me feel better?"
        "I didn't think there was any point in both of us taking our guilt to the grave." She explained and when he gave her a questioning glance she elaborated. "I didn't kill my husband, but I wasn't really sad that he was dead. Things had been bad between us for a long time, and though I was upset and in shock that he had died so...so dramatically I didn't feel the loss like I should have. Then, when I was convicted for his murder, I somehow convinced myself it was my punishment for feeling the way I did." She brushed a tear away with annoyance. "Anyway, I couldn't let you feel badly about it to, so I lied. I hadn't counted on you not believing me, but after talking with your friend Fraser, I can see now why you didn't."
        "I..I don't know what to say." Ray whispered. "I don't know how to...what I can do to.." He shook his head, he was at a loss. Suddenly he felt himself engulfed in her warm embrace again and once more he hugged her back awkwardly.
        "Be here for me. Let me be here for you. Let's get together and heal each other, get it all out in the open." Her words moved Ray to tears and he had to force them back. He was crying entirely too much lately and he would not loose it in front of this brave and wonderful woman. But she seemed to sense his need and she held him tighter as she spoke again, her voice strained with barely suppressed emotion. "I'll cry on your shoulder and you darling, can cry on mine because no one understand why we are crying but us." That was all it took to push Ray over the edge and he found himself clinging to her as he sobbed openly for the third time that week. She cried as well taking as much support as she was giving. She didn't understand what drew her to the soft hearted young man in her arms, but she didn't question it. It was meant for them to feel this way, it was right that they share their grief.
        A short time later, both of them spent and attempting to compose themselves, Francesca Vecchio knocked discreetly on the door. Beth was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief and Ray was clearing his throat as they moved apart.
        "Yah Frannie?" he asked her huskily and tried clearing his throat again.
        "There's a call for you from a Frank the Skank." She remarked wryly and Ray nodded, recognizing the name of one of his snitches.
        "I'll be right out." He informed quietly and Francesca closed the door again. Beth Botrelle glanced at him shyly, as she retrieved her purse.
        "Same time next week, Detective?" she suggested and Ray grinned.
        "Yah, " he agreed holding open the door for her. "But let's pick a place less crowded if we're gonna be bawlin again." She laughed and Ray felt as though she had just given him the moon, her drawn and dramatically pale face, aged from her time in prison, relaxed and softened her features, making her look younger.
        "I'll call you to set up an appropriate place and time." She replied as he walked her out. She pressed his letter to her chest protectively. "Thank you again, Detective." He nodded, accepting her gratitude this time without argument.
        "Thank you." He offered gently, squeezing her hand slightly before dropping it. She smiled and went out. Ray turned back, ignoring the stares he received from the others in the station, and walked over to the 'Duck Boy's side of the room. Hewy automatically grew defensive posture as Ray approached and asked him to stand. The Thomas watched warily, ready to jump in to stop another fight, but when Ray offered his hand to Jack, Thomas almost fell out of his chair. Hewy shook Kowalski's hand cautiously.
        "She told me." Ray stated, knowing the detective would understand of whom he was speaking. "Thanks. No hard feelings." Hewy nodded, more than relieved he wasn't going to have to go at it again with the blonde detective.
        "Sure thing." He agreed, then watched Ray return to his desk and grabbed up his phone to talk to his informant. Welsh stepped back inside his office and closed his door, he had come out the moment he say Kowalski approaching Hewy again, but he was glad the volatile detective had decided to play nice again, at least for awhile. Welsh had to admit, the blond sure kept things interesting at his little precinct.
 
 
 
 

The End