Ray slumped in the chair opposite Welsh's desk. This couldn't be happening again! It was like some Lovecraftian nightmare where he was going from dark cave to dark cave, only to discover each one was an eye socket in some monster's skull. Leave again! He had to leave Chicago again on some piss-poor excuse for an undercover assignment without saying good bye to Benny!

He groaned melodramatically one more time then cracked one eyelid open and peered at the district attorney and the CIA agent. Still there. Damn!

 "Okay. So I gotta take *her*," he couldn't keep the whine out of his voice, "with me?"

 "Yes," the CIA agent from Hades said. "Ms. Kowalski is the only one who can confirm the identity of the informant we've been working with on this case. She's had exclusive contact, in order to maintain the subject's safety against ... departmental leaks."

 Both Ray and the agent cleared their throats. No one liked to admit there were leaks in any law enforcement agency.

 "Okay but I gotta tell you this is a raw deal-"

 "We were under the impression that you and Kowalski had formed some kind of liking for each other . . . "

 "Yeah," Ray said, shrugging his shoulder and trying to look macho. Of course the broad had fallen for him. Of course the attraction was mutual. Wasn't he a red blooded American male? Shit! His come-on to her was just a reflex, a way to handle his nerves. That undercover assignment still had him wired half the time. Benny would know it was just nerves. Everybody who *knew* Ray knew it. Good grief! Stella had taken one look at him and knew it was teasing, knew he was as gay as Boy George. Well. No. Okay, he was bi. She was enjoying the playing around but knew that's all it was.

 "But why me? Why not-"

 "You've been out of circulation for the last six months. Their plant in the department is new. We know that much. They won't know your face. You're the only one who can do it."

 Where had he heard those words before? Shit! Just before being sent off without a chance to tell Benny good bye. Oh, Benny!, he silently lamented. How did I get myself into this? Oh *God* how I miss you!

It was done. He and Stella Kowalski were locked in to the assignment. They'd head to Florida today, search out this snitch and get him clear of danger so the operation could go down. Ray threw the old Hawaiian shirt into his suitcase, stuffed in pajamas, socks, underwear and then paused. He saw the blue shirt he'd loaned Benny at his father's cabin so long ago. It hung in his closet, freshly laundered and pressed. He'd worn it home from Benny's one morning when they'd stayed up all night making love. Ray fingered the material.

"Benny," he whispered. "How could things be going so bad for us? I miss you, lover."

 He pulled the shirt from the closet and stuffed it in his suitcase. That would keep him warm enough to survive this next ordeal, to survive till he could be reunited with Benny. For good.
 

Fraser listened to Buck's voice over the phone as the older Mountie explained that Ray had left Chicago before he got a chance to return. He felt pressure building behind his rib cage. Ray! Gone again! It was too much. Not even a Mountie should be asked to bear such torture. He put the phone receiver down and turned to Kowalski. Numbly he parroted Buck's words.

 Kowalski looked as if he'd been gut shot. Fraser knew exactly how the man felt. He tried not to picture it but images of Stella and his Ray, locked in impassioned embraces flooded his mind.

He pushed past Kowalski and stumbled out into the clear snow. His heart felt as if it had been shredded by some monster's jagged teeth. A particularly vivid illustration of a sharptoothed monster from the cover of a novel by H. P. Lovecraft skittered into the place that had been filled with the image of Ray and Stella ... copulating. Fraser shuddered. Which image was worse?

Weeks later he lay inside the double zipped sleeping bags, Kowalski - Ray - he could almost call the man that without flinching now - snuggled up in his embrace. Fraser pushed a strand of blond hair back from the man's forehead. Kowalski murmured in his sleep and slid his bare left leg up until his thigh was nudging Fraser's bare gonads. The Mountie parted his legs a bit and smiled. Kowalski had such a fascination with that part of the Canadian's anatomy. Since their first session at mutual comfort a few weeks ago, the night after that disastrous news from Buck, Kowalski had hardly had his hand off them. In his sleep the blond nudged a little harder and Fraser prepared himself for the man to wake and ask for more sex. The small abandoned cabin they'd found now reeked of male pheromones.

 Balls, Ray called them. Kowalski too. His Ray - no. Stella's Ray. And this Ray. Well, technically this was Stella's Ray too. Whether she wished it or not. And his too. Balls. Big balls.

When he and Ray Vecchio had first begun their affair, shortly after recovering the pizza boy's vehicle from the lake, Ray had introduced Fraser to the art of *ball sucking*.

 Fraser grinned. So indelicate his Ray was. So . . . direct. Balls. Big big balls. And the horrendous jokes. They were everywhere. On the basketball court at night with Ray, playing one on one. Ball jokes. At baseball games. Ball jokes. At the ice cream stand! Oh, what terrible jokes about those ball shaped scoops of frozen dessert.

Then had come that disastrous night they'd gone to Scarpelli's to celebrate Ray's promotion. Fraser had made his first ball joke. He'd told it right before they left the apartment to pick up Huey and Gardino. The joke was perfectly executed and dealt with balls of a type Fraser *knew* Ray would not do *that* with. Ray had laughed, felt him up, kissed him senseless. Then at the restaurant Fraser had tried lightening Ray's spirit again, to recall the humor, the delight of the earlier private moment. Just four words to remind Ray of the private joke. He'd suggested . . .

"Let's all go bowling," Fraser murmured against Kowalski's hair.

 "Whaa?" Kowalski scrambled up, staring in total shock down at the naked Mountie. "Fraser . . . what did you . . . Bowling? How could you . . . Is that some kind of sick joke?"

 "Oh Ray!" Fraser bolted up, reaching for the hurting man. "I'm sorry. I was simply remembering something I said to . . . I was remembering something from a long time ago."

 "Bowling! For Christ's sake, Fraser!" Kowalski had tears in his eyes now. They sparkled in the firelight, the only source of illumination in the small cabin.

 "I'm sorry-"

 "Was it something you and *he* did? He got a fetish for *bowling*?"

 "No," Fraser said emphatically, still trying to comfort Kowalski. "Ray and I *never* went bowling. He hates bowling *balls*. He'd never even set foot inside a bowling alley. It was a dislike rooted in his youth and had something to do with three bowling balls, a gallon of gasoline and a slingshot. The story takes exactly two hours to tell-"

 "Hates bowling? But . . . that doesn't make any sense. Why the hell would he and my wife-"

 "Your ex wife," Fraser corrected him.

 "My freaking *ex* wife go run a bowling alley if Vecchio hates them?"

 Fraser froze. Every muscle in his body was completely still. "Bowling alley? Is that what Buck said?"

 "Hell yes! It is! I heard him through the damned phone myself. I just had to wait for you to repeat it before I'd believe she'd done that. Stella dumping her career and taking off to run a freaking bowling alley?" Kowalski shook his head.

 "Bowling alley?" Fraser repeated. "Is that what Buck said?"

 "Snap out of it! Yes, he did. Buck said Ray wanted you to know he was opening a bowling alley. Now explain this crap to me right now or I'm gonna . . . I'm gonna . . . "

 "Bowling alley." Fraser's face took on a blank look, his eyes unfocused, his mouth slack. "Bowling alley. Ray hates bowling."

Kowalski gave him a shake by both shoulders as he shouted. "Snap out of it! Then why the hell did Vecchio tell Buck to say that? Was it some kind of message to you? You two have some kind of secret code or something? Has he ever sent you a secret message before?"

 Fraser's head snapped back and forth as he was shaken. When he was released he looked down at his naked body, exposed when Kowalski's vigorous shaking had dislodged the sleeping bags further. He took in his nakedness, in Kowalski's. He took in the copious dried seminal evidence of their sexual liaisons of late. A secret message from Ray? Like . . . It's cold out, warm me up?

 "Oh dear."

 The End

 Okay now I'm ready for season four. And is that Mountie in tuuu-ROU-bull or WHAT?

 Disclaimer: Alliance, fan fic, not for profit. No copyright infringement intended. Dog sled safety is no laughing matter. Check your harness and never trust a man named Muldoon.

 mitch_h@hotmail.com Member of the due South Slash Site http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Lofts/5843