Ray Kowalski strutted into the bullpen of the 27^th precinct, Mountie in tow. He was in a good mood, having just captured with Fraser's help, of course a freak that had been flashing little kids and old ladies in several subway stations in Cicero. The perp had been handed over to a black-and-white for transport and booking, and Ray was actually looking forward to completing the paperwork that would send the guy to Joliet.

Passing Francesca Vecchio's desk, he paused. "Hey, little sis, what's shakin'?" he asked his ersatz sibling.

"Knock it off, Ray," she growled in return, giving the spiky-haired detective the cold shoulder. Her tone warmed only slightly when she turned to address the Mountie. "Oh, hi Frazhe." Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Vecchio! What are you doin' back here so quick? Didn't I send you out on interviews? Don't tell me you've finished all of them already?" Lieutenant Welsh called from his open office doorway.

"Ah, sir, we caught 'im! The subway flasher. He's bein' booked in now. I'll tell ya all about it, but can I get Frannie started on pullin' his priors first?" Ray answered.

"You caught the flasher? Good work, Detective. Yeah, give the information to Francesca, then I wanna see you. If Big Red was involved, bring him along, too." The burly man disappeared back into his office.

"You heard the Loot, Fran. I need ya to pull priors on Harvey Gene Reynolds ---"

"Yeah? Just who was your slave last week?" The volatile Italian woman's sarcasm cut him off.

"You can't get under my skin today, sister mine, I feel too good," Ray smirked.

Suddenly the detective found himself thrown up against a filing cabinet by 110 pounds of furious female.

"Don't! Just don't, Ray. Or whoever you really are," Francesca hissed for his ears only. "You're NOT my brother, and you know it. So just stop!"

Ray looked near to panic. He'd never seen the civilian aide in this mood, and didn't know how to extricate himself from her ire, at least without risking hurting her. His best friend, the Mountie, came to his rescue.

"Francesca," Fraser spoke gently, laying a hesitant hand on her shoulder. She turned her head toward him, and he continued, "Francesca, please. Ray is just doing his job, a job that is important to all of us. I know you love your brother," and he emphasized 'brother', "so please, let Ray do his job."

Francesca's face went from righteous anger to an ineffable sadness, all of the fight drained out of her. "You're right, Frazhe, I do love my brother." She turned back to the cop, who slowly relaxed from his defensive posture. "I'm sorry, Ray. But just . . . back off, okay?"

"Sure, Frannie, anything you say," Ray groused, casting a sidelong glance at the volatile woman, still half-fearful that she would attack him without warning again. "So, um, can you pull those priors for me? I'll write the name down for ya." He quickly scribbled something on a pad he found next to the computer monitor on Francesca's desk, then beat feet for the relative safety of Harding Welsh's office. The Mountie followed, with a backward glance at his best friend's sister.

Welsh kept the two men about twenty minutes, getting all the details of the morning's bust, and issuing his instructions to Ray as to completing the interviews he had set out to do that morning, adding that Detectives Huey and Dewey would be assigned to assist him.

"And Ray," he added as Ray and Fraser were leaving his office, "good work. This one's a six." The lieutenant smiled at their retreating backs.

"Didja hear that, Fraser? I got a six! That's the best score the Loot ever gave me!" Ray was grinning from ear to ear as he shadowboxed his way to his desk through the now-empty bullpen.

When he got to his desk, Ray spotted a pile of papers in the center of his blotter that hadn't been there when he left that morning. Picking the top sheet up to squint at the printing, he discovered that it was the information that he had requested on Reynolds.

"Hey, Frase, look at this. The guy has a sheet as long as yer arm. Frase?" He looked up just in time to see the Mountie start down the hallway toward the canteen.

"I'm just going to get a soda. Would you like one, Ray?" an obviously distracted Fraser asked, sticking his head back around the corner.

"Nah, Frase, thanks. You go ahead," he replied, then muttered "freak," as his friend went out of sight.

The canteen was deserted when Fraser arrived there, except for Francesca. She was sitting at the furthest table from the door and nursing a cappuccino. Fraser poured himself a cup of coffee and walked over beside her, glad to have found her so easily.

"Francesca, may I join you?"

She looked up and assayed a smile. "Sure, Frazhe, sit down. And before you say anything, I'm sorry about the scene I made earlier."

Fraser sat and placed his coffee cup on the table. He leaned on his forearms, hands clasped lightly around the now forgotten cup. "You nave no need to apologize to me, Francesca. It was Ray you were angry with." She just made a face, so he went on, "May I ask what is troubling you, Francesca?"

"He's not Ray, you know," she whispered, so softly that most anyone but Fraser would not have been able to hear her. "How can you go on pretending that he is?"

Fraser glanced at the door in case anyone had come in, then pitched his voice for her ears alone. "His name really is Ray. At least, his middle name is, and he prefers to use it. And I can pretend because we must, Francesca. We must do everything we can to ensure our Ray's safety." He glanced at the doorway again, tilting his head toward it, too. "He's a good man, doing a very hard job."

"I know," Francesca sighed, understanding that they were talking about the blond detective again. "I know he is, Fraser. I just miss my brother so much, ya know?" To Fraser she appeared lost and lonely.

"Yes," he said, pain showing briefly in his gray eyes. "I know."

They were both silent for a time, each thinking about the man who had left them for a dangerous undercover assignment.

Francesca began whispering again. "He said he'd be in touch, ya know?" Fraser's head jerked up from his contemplation of his tepid coffee. "He said it would probably be tough getting messages to us, but he'd find a way." She was nearly sobbing, and stopped speaking to gather her self control. After a moment she continued, "Yesterday was Ma's birthday. I really hoped he'd find some way to call or something."

"Your mother's birthday was yesterday?" Oh dear, he thought. He had ordered flowers to be delivered to Mrs. Vecchio in Ray's name --- tomorrow. How could he have misremembered such an important date?

"Yeah. You know, it's funny. Ray could never get the date right. He always thought her birthday was on the twelfth, instead of the tenth. We'd have to remind him every year, or he'd miss it. Say, do you think that's what it is? Of course!" she answered her own question, beaming now. "It's just like Ray to mess this up. Oh, thank you, Fraser!"

"I didn't do anything, Francesca."

"No, you did, Fraser. You let me cry on your shoulder. I mean, not literally or anything, but you know what I mean. It's really good to be able to talk about him with somebody who understands. I really do miss him, ya know? I mean, do you have any idea how long he's been gone?"

"Six months, eight days, and twelve hours." Francesca's eyes got big as saucers at the Mountie's pronouncement. "At least, it's been that long since he warned me that he might not be here when I returned from my vacation. I don't have any idea when he actually left, of course."

She took in his expression, somehow sad, resigned and hopeful all at once. "Oh, Benton, I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget that you must miss him, too. After all, you two were just about inseparable. I mean, there were some people who thought you two were . . . you know." Francesca blushed furiously.

Fraser's expression never changed. "I know. We weren't."

Looking into his eyes, Francesca suddenly realized that Fraser, at least, regretted that they 'weren't'.

"You love him, don't you?" she asked wonderingly. Fraser's head gave the least nod, as if bending that far to admit his feelings would break his neck. "Does he know? How you feel, I mean?" She didn't wait for his tiny headshake before going on, "Of course not. He'd never have left, if he did." Fraser opened his mouth to speak, his eyes crinkling in puzzlement, but she cut him off. "I know my brother, believe me. He'd follow you anywhere. And he's surprisingly open-minded, for a cop! Give him a chance, Benton."

"Francesca, I don't believe . . . that is to say, he never . . . From some remarks he made, I don't think ---"

"Don't think, Benton. Feel. Feel what's in your heart. You know Ray; he's a blowhard. He seldom says what he really means. He talks big, ya know? It's like he says what he thinks people expect to hear, sometimes, not what he really believes."

"But he never gave me any indication ---"

She cut him off again. "So, did you ever give him any indications? Ha!" she exclaimed when he simply gaped at her, reminding her of the goldfish that had disappeared from their tank the day that Greta Garbo set fire to her family home. "I thought not. You can't know how he would feel if he knew. Well I don't know either, but I do know that he stopped even pretending that he was dating nearly two years ago, and that he was spending all of his time with you."

There was silence for a moment. Francesca gazed at the man she had once cherished fond hopes of marrying, while he studied his clasped hands as if he'd never seen them before. Finally he looked up to meet her eyes.

"Thank you, Francesca. You know, I came in here to try and cheer you up, and it seems that you have cheered me, instead."

"Well, maybe we cheered each other." She dimpled at him.

"Perhaps we did." Fraser assayed a smile in return.

"And don't worry, Fraser, I know when I'm licked. You're not free; your heart belongs to Ray. I won't chase after you anymore. I'm just glad that if I can't have you, another Vecchio will. At least you'll be in the family."

"Francesca, we don't know that Ray will want to be more than friends with me, but thank you. However, if we suddenly change our behavior toward each other ---"

"I gotcha, Fraser. People will think something's up. We can't have that. But maybe I can kinda taper off. Besides," she added, seeing his relief written plain on his face, "you're way too much fun to tease." An impish smile lit her face.

Fraser couldn't help the flush that crept up his cheeks. Francesca made him terribly uncomfortable as a romantic prospect, but she would make a wonderful sister-in-law. Assuming of course that her brother would be interested in becoming his husband.

"Are you sure you're all right with this, Francesca? I have no wish to hurt you, but my feelings for Ray are, well, they're very deep. Ray is everything, to me."

"I know, I know. We both love him. When he gets home, we can tell him. I know I will." She looked at Fraser sharply, expecting a reply.

"Ah, yes, Francesca. I will, too. You know, I went on that vacation alone to think about my feelings for Ray and to decide what, if anything, to do about them. I had decided that his feelings should develop naturally, without any prompting from me. But now, after talking with you, I do believe that I will tell him how I feel. He needs to know, and I need him to know, too."

"Good! That's settled. Now, you are coming to dinner tomorrow, right? We're gonna have a party for Ma, with some of the relatives in. It was just easier to get everyone together on the weekend."

"Yes, Francesca, I'll be there."

"Oh, and Benton? I don't think we oughta out you and Ray to Ma just yet. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, I do, and you're quite right. After all, Ray hasn't had a chance to . . . well, we don't know Ray's feelings."

"Don't worry, Benton. I'm sure it will be fine."

"Hey, Frase?" came a plaintive voice from the doorway. The Mountie and the civilian aide both turned to see the stand-in Ray slouched against the doorjamb. "I thought you were comin' back."

"Oh, yes, Ray. Be right there." He turned to the woman across the table. "Are we finished here, Francesca? Are you all right now?"

"Yeah, Frazhe, I'm fine." She flashed him a smile as warm as any her brother could have given, then slipped from her chair to approach Ray. "I'm sorry, bro. I should never have acted that way. Forgive me?" Her smile was impish again as she directed it toward Kowalski.

"Yeah, sure, Frannie. Whatever." He slipped into the room past Francesca, to address the Mountie. "So, you wanna go get some Chinese after work?"

"That sounds fine, Ray." Fraser was grateful to have the friendship of the skinny, street-wise, energetic detective to help ease his loneliness during Ray Vecchio's absence. He could hardly wait for the two men to meet. He just knew they would get along famously.

end