By Amethyst

         Stan listened quietly as Fraser regaled Stella and Ray Vecchio with the tale of him and Stan being caught in the ice crevice and having to be pulled out by Dalmar. Stan had affectionately dubbed the large, bear like man Grizzly Adams because of his rugged, hermit-like appearance. Since, Dalmar was their closest neighbor, at twenty miles away, the three often saw each other so Stan had gotten to know him quite well.

        Stan's promise to himself to be more tolerant with their company resulted in a more pleasant visit with the Vecchio's. His friend Ira's comment that Stan was in love with Fraser and that was why Stan was finding Vecchio particularly annoying had unnerved Stan. He argued with Ira, even became physical with the native in retaliation.

        When Fraser walked up, shortly after, Stan decided to prove to Ira that there was nothing between him and the Mountie.  Stan never did have the tendency to become defensive and overreact when someone tried to challenged his abilities; as a cop or as a man. He had kissed Fraser, on the mouth, in front of Ira, then tossed it off as nothing.

        Stan didn't wait around for his shocked partner to react, but instead ran from them. He'd had to get away and think about what he had done and what Ira had said. He considered that Ira might be correct on one point and that Stan was possibly jealous of Vecchio.

        Stan could admit that he resented the closeness that the Italian seemed to have with Fraser, so jealousy could be a part of that. But, the idea that Stan was jealous because he was in love with Fraser was insane. At least, that was what he thought, until he actually kissed Fraser.

        Stan had felt something entirely more than what a friend or partner should feel when his lips touched
Fraser's and that had scared the hell out of him. Again, he could attribute it to the fact that he hadn't been with anyone sexually in over two years. He'd foolishly had a one-night stand the day he received his divorce papers from Stella, but other than that there had been no one.

        Of course, Stan had gone undercover as Vecchio the following week and so he had to be careful of what he did in Vecchio's name. There had also been Fraser to consider. Stan had to spend a lot of time with the Mountie to keep up the charade of Vecchio. The fact that Stan started to enjoy being with Fraser and had looked forward to seeing the Mountie every day only meant that Stan had been in need of a friend. It didn't mean he was falling in love.

        Stan had only ever loved one person, romantically and that was Stella. As hurt as he had been by their divorce, he just couldn't see himself switching sides and becoming gay. Not even for someone as good looking as Benton Fraser. People didn't just 'turn' gay, they were born that way, at least that was what
Stan and always believed.  Stan had always tried to stay open minded about that sort of thing. He had no preconceptions of what made a person gay, in essence, he never spent a great deal of time contemplating it, and he didn't think it made a guy less of a man to like other guys.

        He had no problem with Ira and Jay; they were his friends whether they were gay or straight. He didn't sit at home thinking about the two men's relationship, sexual or otherwise and berate them for it. That was their personal business and Stan was happy to leave them to it. However, when Ira accused Stan of being gay, Bi, or whatever way you want to put it, that was crossing the line. Stan had felt hurt and betrayed by his friend's words and lashed out.

        Stan knew the police frowned on homosexuals in the department, and that the smallest show of weakness or sensitivity sometimes got you branded a faggot or queer. That was mostly because of the large percentage of 'macho' cops that seemed to press their opinions on everyone else. However,
Stan had never had that problem in all the years he had been a cop. He had been called many things, a psycho, a freak, a guy with a short fuse, but never gay.

        Stan did not go out of his way to appear 'virile' or 'antagonistic' to avoid being branded a homosexual; he was just being himself. But, here in Canada, where people seemed more accepting, he suddenly found himself branded and that made no sense at all. Granted, he was more open here than he was in Chicago. He touched and hugged Fraser, more often than he did when they were in the city, but it was never in sexual way.

        Stan didn't spent hours fantasizing about his partner or staring at the guy's ass for Heaven's sake. He did know Fraser well, but they were best friends and had been living together for almost over a year now.
A certain kind of closeness was to be expected, but it did not mean that they were gay or in love with each other.

        However, when Stan kissed Fraser, something happened and the detective was not ready to admit what that was, just yet. If he admitted what he had felt that would be admitting that he felt more than friendship for his partner and Stan knew that was just sick. If he admitted what he felt, he would also have to reevaluate every time he had touched Fraser or smiled at him or even just looked at him longer than a few seconds.

        So, rather than admit to anything and have to do a lot more thinking than he was prepared for at this particular time, Stan decided to try and bury his feelings for Ray and Stella. He and Vecchio had come to blows at Maggie's and he knew that Fraser was disappointed Stan couldn't control himself.
They would only be there a few more days and then Stan and Fraser could go back to the way things.

        Ray and Fraser spent some quality time together over the next two days and Stan seemed to encourage it. Fraser showed him some of their choice hunting spots and where the best place to view the Northern Lights. In the evening, the three of them would play cards or Fraser would talk over old times.

        Stan knew Stella was bored by 'the bonding' of her husband and Fraser, so he tried to keep her busy by riding out early in the morning to try and find her more fossil rocks. She had started a small collection and Fraser had showed her how to polish them and keep them in good shape.

        Sometimes, Stan would let her help him with Artemis, allowing her to wear his heavy falconer's glove and teach her how to carry and launch the hawk. They never returned to the beaver dam, because Stan didn't want to start trouble by taking Stella away from the cabin and out of sight of Vecchio's watchful eye.

        Now, they had one day remaining, before Vecchio and Stella left to catch their flight to Ottawa and Stan was anxiously waiting for the time to arrive. Fraser launched into another tale and Stan rose from where he had been seated in the large, overstuffed chair adorning the living area. Ray, Stella and Fraser were settled on the sofa.

        "Where are you going, Stan?" Fraser immediately paused in his story to ask.

        "I'm gonna take a ride, Fraser," he stated calmly.

        Fraser regarded him quietly for a moment then nodded. He and Stan had not had the chance to talk about what happened at Maggie's and he could swear the blonde was avoiding him. Stan was being unusually polite, only making lighthearted digs at Ray when the Italian tossed a sarcastic remark at him. Fraser wondered what had inspired the drastic change in his partner, but refused to speculate.

        Stan, who usually sat next to Fraser on the sofa or at the kitchen table, was going out of his way to allow Ray that position. Even after their company had gone to bed and he and Stan prepared their bedrolls on the floor by the fire, Stan placed more distance between them than he usually did.

        The taste and feel of Stan's kiss was still very vivid in Fraser's mind and he could only assume it was still bothering Stan. Although he had claimed to feel nothing from the kiss, Stan refused to talk about it and now seemed loathed to touch Fraser. Fraser couldn't blame him, but he did miss the contact Stan usually awarded him.

        Fraser had felt something during the kiss, other than shock, but he could never tell his partner that. He had played with the idea that Stan had kissed him because he had finally returned Fraser's feelings, but after speaking with Ira, Fraser knew it was Stan's way of refuting the Native's claims. The way Stan was behaving now, Fraser worried his friend might be considering leaving, if he couldn't find a way to banish whatever thoughts Ira's words had inspired.

        "Would you like some company, Stan?" Stella inquired eagerly. She was bored with the conversation and getting a touch of cabin fever. "Are you going to the dam?"

        Stan frowned. "Um...I don't know where I'm goin' Stell," he shrugged, after glancing at Vecchio.
"Probably not a good..."

        "Aw, go ahead and take her, Stanley," Ray encouraged, suddenly. "Can't blame her for wanting to get away from the cabin for a bit."

        Stella smiled at her husband then turned back to Stan, expectantly.

        "Um...okay," Stan agreed, slowly. "Just...um...give me a few minutes to get Malaki saddled and ah...put on your coat and stuff."

        Stella nodded, happily, and went to prepare as Fraser stood.

        "I'll assist you, Stan," he offered moving with his partner toward the back door.

        Diefenbaker glanced at them from beside Ray's feet, then lay his head back down and went back to sleep.

         Stan remained silent as he and Fraser walked outside and across to the barn. They worked together to get Malaki ready for the ride and out of his stall. Finally, as Stan secured the last strap, Fraser spoke.

         "I appreciate your recent patience, Stan."

         Stan shrugged but didn't raise his eyes from what he was doing "Welcome."

         "Have you...have you had something on your mind, Stan?" Fraser asked, quietly. "You seem preoccupied, more than usual I mean."

         "Nah, just tryin' to behave, Fraser," Stan commented running his palm down along Malaki's nose in a gentle caress.

         "Stan. You aren't a child," Fraser insisted, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

         "Yah, I should just act my age. I know."

          Fraser sighed and cursed himself for saying those words at Maggie's.  He caressed his left eyebrow with his thumbnail. "I know this isn't easy for you, having Ray and Stella here and I never meant to imply there was anything wrong with your behavior."

         "It's cool, Fraser," Stan dismissed, continuing to caress the animal. "I'm acting my age ain't I? Everyone's gettin' along. No problem."

          "Oh for heaven's sake!" Fraser exclaimed. "I never meant you to become so...dispassionate. I only wanted..."

         "Look, Fraser," Stan scowled as he led Malaki out of the stall. "What difference does it make how I act, as long as you enjoy your time with Vecchio and I refrain from killing him?"

         Fraser growled and Stan shot him a startled look.

         "You're being impossible, Stan," he warned, moving aside so Stan could walk past with the horse to the door.

         "You're being ungrateful, Fraser," Stan defended, mildly. "Let it go and enjoy it." He grinned. "It won't last. After they're gone I'll be my usual disagreeable, antagonistic self, no worries."

         Fraser reached to place his hand on Stan's shoulder and was hurt when his friend neatly avoided his touch by twisting away to adjust Malaki's harness. Fraser allowed his hand to drop as Stella and Ray stepped outside.

         "I'm ready," she informed, brightly.

         "Stan, we need to talk," Fraser insisted, quietly.

         "No we don't, Fraser," he returned just as softly.

        Fraser stepped back as Stan easily mounted the horse than extended a hand to his ex-wife to pull her on behind him. Ray assisted her up and smiled at them.

        "You look good up there, sweetheart," he offered kindly. "Maybe we should get us a ranch somewhere so you can ride more often."

        Stella made a face. "I like to ride," she admitted. "But the smell of horse manure leaves something to be desired."

        Ray laughed, just as a loud boom echoed around them. Malaki reared up in surprise.

         Stella released a startled cry, and her grip tightened fiercely around Stan's waist.

        Stan soothed the frightened horse quickly, then half turned to see Stella behind him, his free hand squeezing both of hers settled at his waist. "You okay, baby?" He didn't realize his slip, but no one commented on the tender endearment.

        Stella nodded, shakily. "I...I think so. What was that?"

        Fraser was looking toward the horizon as Dief started barking and running back and forth between them and the direction the boom seemed to have come from.

        "We'd better check it out," Stan suggested. "You should get down, Stell."

        "I want to come with you," she protested and tightened her grip. "Please, Stan?"

        "Com'on, Benny, we'll take the jeep and follow 'em," Ray offered.

        Fraser nodded. "Right you are, Ray."

        Stan spurred Malaki forward at a fast gallop after Diefenbaker who was off and running. The wolf sensed trouble and Stan knew Dief would lead them to the origin of that awful sound. In the territories, it was difficult to tell the direction a sound like that came from, but animals had a sixth sense about these kinds of things, and Stan had learned to trust that ability in Diefenbaker.

        Fraser slid behind the wheel of the jeep, relieved Ray had the sense to rent a four-wheel drive, and started after his partner and Stella.

        Ray sat beside him, belted in and holding on as the jeep jerked, bounced, and slid along the muddy, rock ground beneath them that was still sprinkled with portions of snow. He had to admit Fraser was doing a damn fine job of driving, given the uneven and treacherous terrain. Ray watched the speed that
Kowalski had gained on the horse and turned to Fraser anxiously.

        "He's going too fast, Benny," he exclaimed. "Kowalski's gonna get my wife killed riding like that!"

        Fraser's eyes never moved from the form of his partner, already well ahead of them. Malaki and Stan could navigate the terrain better than the jeep, because they had ridden it so often.

        "Stan is an excellent horseman, Ray," he assured, calmly. "He would also never do anything that would endanger Stella and you should know that."

        Ray did know that, but it didn't stop him from worrying.

        In moments, they came to the edge of a ravine and Fraser stopped the vehicle.  Stan and Stella had already dismounted and Stan was looking over the edge. Smoke was rising from what appeared to be it a small twin engine plane. It was half buried in the side of the mountain, settled precariously on a small ledge that would not hold it for long.

        "Oh My God!" Stella cried. "Do you think anyone survived?"

        "One way to find out," Stan muttered, returning to the jeep and opening the back.

        He hoped the dealer had equipped the vehicle with the standard equipment needed up here. Luckily, he found the long nylon rope and pulled it out. He came back around and tossed it at Fraser.

         "What are you doing?" Stella demanded as Stan pulled off his heavier coat and Fraser tied the ends of the rope to the front grill of the jeep. "Surely you aren't going to..."

         "There's no body else, Stella," Stan stated, tying the other end of the rope around him, the way Fraser had shown him. "If there are survivors, we have to get them out before that ledge gives."

         "But why do you have to do it!" Stella cried, worried but Stan ignored her.

         What she was really saying was, let the Mountie go; he would probably do a better job. Unfortunately, it wasn't about whom was better for the task. Stan weighed slightly less that Fraser, so he would be easier to lift back up, and few pounds more or less might make the difference inside the plane as well.

         "Ray!" Stella pulled on her husband's arm. "Do something!"

         "Don't worry about it, Stell," Stan finally told her, touched by her concern. "I've repelled loads of times, it's a piece of cake."

         "Fraser, are you going to let him do this?" Stella demanded as Fraser took his position by the rope to keep it taut.

         "Stan knows what he is doing, Stella," he insisted firmly.

         "Where...where are my gloves, Fraser?" Stan suddenly asked as he backed up toward the edge. The rope would cut his hands if he tried to climb without them. Then he remembered he had left them at the cabin. "I left them behind. Damnit."

         "Here," Vecchio offered, pulling his expensive leather gloves off and fitting them over Stan's hands. They were a little big, but they would do.

         "Thanks, Vecchio," Stan returned surprised.

         "Don't mention it, Stanley," Ray returned, taking up position behind Fraser. "Ever."

         Stan smirked and backed up to the edge, retaining a firm hold on the rope. He winked at Stella then jumped. He heard his ex-wife's gasp as he disappeared over the side, but he had other things to worry about. His feet bounced off the rocks and he regained his bearings, before beginning the steady push and swing act of repelling down to the plane.

         Stan knew that Fraser and Vecchio would give him slack until he tugged on the rope to let them know he had reached the ledge. Shortly after, he did just that and they tied off the extra portion.

         "Stan!" Fraser called from the top. "Can you see anyone?"

         "Yeah, hang on!" Stan called back and carefully edged toward the plane.  He managed to get a solid footing on the ledge and peered inside the plane.

         A man and woman were slumped inside the crushed cockpit of the plane. Stan didn't think they were alive, but he had to be sure.  The side of the plane, directly atop the ledge, had been sheered off, so Stan knew he had to go through there. He tugged on the rope a little more, for additional slack, and stepped inside the aircraft.

         "Hello!" he called, careful of his footing and trying not to rock the already shaky balance of the plane. "Is anyone alive in here?"

         He couldn't get inside the cockpit itself, only the edge of it. The two people were leaned back enough that Stan could reach their head and shoulders, but that was all. He pulled off Vecchio's gloves and checked for a pulse. There was none and he pulled the gloves back on.

         "I'm sorry," he offered them remorsefully.

         Suddenly, the plane gave beneath him and he fell backwards. He froze and took a few calming breaths until the plane stopped sliding. Carefully, he rose to his feet again and that was when he heard it. A soft sobbing behind one of the seats.

         A young girl, no more that ten or eleven, was pinned by the seat in front of her, which had torn loose and trapped her in another seat.

         "Hey," Stan greeted, gently. "You're okay, honey. I'm gonna get you out."

         "Help me," she cried as he pulled the heavy seat off of her and unfastened her seat belt. "I can't see."

         "Did you hit your head?" Stan asked, examining her quickly.

         She shook her head. "No, I've been blind since birth." She started sobbing again. "Where are my Mother and Dad?"

         "They...they didn't make it, honey," Stan explained as gently as he could, before carefully pulling her from the seat. "Can...can you walk?"

        She nodded.

        "Y...yes. M...my knee hurts some but it's okay, I think."

        Stan examined both her legs and found only minor bruising. She was lucky the seat hadn't cut her in half.

        The heavy scent of fuel and the creaking of metal around them reminded Stan that they didn't have much time. He carefully guided her toward the opening.

        "What's your name, sweetheart?"

        "B...Bonnie," she sniffed, gripping him frightened.

        "Okay, Bonnie, I'm Stan."

        "I...it's nice to meet you, S...Stan," she offered politely.

        Stan smiled. "I'm gonna put your arms around my neck and hoist you on my back. Wrap your legs around me and don't let go, okay?"

        "Wait!" she cried as the plane shifted again, just enough to startle them. "My back pack! I have to have it!"

        "We don't have time," Stan began but her eyes had already started to shimmer with tears again. He spotted the bag by the seat and quickly retrieved it. Less time to argue. He strapped it on her back then positioned her over him. "Now you hold on, don't you let go, okay?"

        "Yes, Stan," she agreed as the plane lurched backwards.

         Stan grabbed the edge of the door to keep from falling back again, relieved that Bonnie retained her hold.

        "Good girl," he told her, then carefully stepped out onto the ledge again.

        The plane gave at that moment and plunged downward, in a horrible sound of crunching metal and falling rock. Stan felt pain pierce his side as something heavy slammed against it, possibly a portion of the aircraft. The ledge crumbled, taking the small amount of footing Stan had been standing.

        They dropped and Bonnie screamed, but the rope was still around Stan's waist so they didn't fall far before Fraser and Vecchio above took up the slack. Stan felt his shoulder give as he twisted back for the rope, aggravating his injured ribs, and attempted to control his swing toward the rocks.

        "Stan!" Fraser called worried.

        Stan paused a minute to catch his breath and secure his position. He needed both hands on the rope so he couldn't adjust Bonnie behind him.

        "I'm okay!" he called back, then to Bonnie. "Pull up a little, kiddo."  She did so and he winced as her movement pulled down on his injured shoulder. "That's good, now wrap your legs around me a little tighter."

        Bonnie did as she was told and hugged him for all she was worth.

        "That's good," he managed, trying to sound cheerful. "You're doing great, Bonnie. I'm gonna start to climb, but don't you let go, okay?"

        "Yes, Stan," she agreed, her response muffled by his shoulder.

        Stan glanced upwards and gathered his strength. "Okay, up we go."

        Hand over hand, just as Fraser taught him, Stan walked up the side of the Mountain. Each movement sent stabbing pains through his ribs and shoulder, but he pushed it aside. He was hurting, scared and had a little girl depending on him, but he was running on pure adrenaline now. He kept Bonnie talking all the way.

        "You have a real pretty accent, Bonnie. Where are you from?"

        "Germany," she told him.

        "Really? Did you grow up there?"

        "Yes. I miss it. We moved to Canada just two years ago."

        "You must have broken a lot of little boy's hearts when you left," Stan teased and she giggled.

        "No."

        "Not even one?"

        "I am too young to have boyfriend, Stan," she informed shyly.

        "So how old are you, then?"

        "I am eleven."

        "You speak very good English, for only being here two years."

        "My Mother is Canadian and she teach me to speak the proper English."

        Their conversation came to an end as they reached the top.

         Fraser immediately pulled Bonnie from his partner's shaking form and checked her for injuries. Relief was apparent on his face, but he continued to glance now and then at Stan as Vecchio helped the blonde the rest of the way up and started to untie him.

        Stan dropped to his knees as soon as the rope was off. He was out of breath, not from the effort of the climb, but from the pain he was in. He knew it would be so much worse when his adrenaline stopped pumping. Bonnie looked like she was doing okay though, and that was what counted.

        "Well done, Stan," the Mountie encouraged, watching his friend with concern. Are you all right?"

        Stan nodded.

        "Her...her folks were already..." he began. "They didn't make it, Frase."

        Fraser nodded, sadly as Stella hurried over to Stan, who immediately waved her back..

        "You okay, Stanley?" Vecchio repeated, leaning over him. "You're looking a little paler than usual."

        "I'm fine, Vecchio," he muttered and shakily rose to his feet in defiance. "No problem."

        "If you say so, tough guy," Ray retorted.

        "Fraser, you should probably h...head into to town with Bonnie," Stan suggested, ignoring his partner's worried stare. "I'm fine. I'll take Malaki back and Dief can come with me. We'll have everything all ready for dinner when you get home."

        "Very well, Stan," Fraser agreed, reluctantly, and started to lead Bonnie toward the jeep.

        "Stan!" she called suddenly and Stan managed to walk over to her without showing the effort it required doing so.

        "Right here, sweetheart," he assured. "This is my friend Fraser. He's gonna take to you to the nearest town and get you checked out. It's a long way, so you have to be patient and tell him if you need to stop or are feeling sleepy, okay?"

        Bonnie nodded and reached out her hands to him. "Can I see you before I go?"

        "I..." Stan was confused and startled by her question and Fraser quickly explained what the little girl was asking. With only a hint of embarrassment, Stan carefully knelt and allowed the girl to caress his face with her hands; forming a picture of him in her mind.

        Bonnie smiled, shyly and dropped her hands back to her sides. "You do not look at all like you sound, Stan." "She reached out and hugged him. "I think you look just as hero should though. Thank you."

        Stan blushed and ignored the pain her embrace inflicted.

        "You're a sweetheart," he told her, softly. "You let Fraser take care of you, now. He's real good at it. I'm sorry we couldn't help your folks, Bonnie."

        She accepted this with maturity beyond her young years. "I thank you anyway, Stan."

         "Will you be all right going back alone, Stan?" Fraser asked as Stella settled Bonnie in the back seat of the jeep.

         "Dief will be with me," he reminded, rising again. "Go on, I'm fine."

        "Why don't I go with you?" Stella suggested, regarding her ex-husband quietly.

        "No," Both Ray and Stan refused simultaneously.

        Stan smirked and waved at them. "Go on, you can shop or something while the Doc looks at Bonnie. I'm fine."

        "Stella," Ray called, firmly. "He says he's fine, let it go."

        Stella nodded and turned back to climb into the jeep next to Bonnie.

        "We'll meet you home as soon as we can, Stan," Fraser insisted. "Unless you're sure you wouldn't rather come with us?"

        "Nah, like I said, I'll take care of Malaki and Dief."

        Fraser nodded and settled behind the wheel of the jeep. Stan had turned away to check that everything on the horse's gear was secure and heard the vehicle drive off a moment later.

        Stan leaned heavily against the animal and fought the urge to pass out. The pain in his shoulder was incredible and trying to pretend he wasn't hurt in front of Fraser had taken all of his energy.

        Malaki started scrapping his front hooves and moving about restlessly.

        Stan caught the reins and tried to settle him as Diefenbaker waited anxiously to start the trek home. All Stan had to do was get on the horse, Malaki knew the way and would carry him back. But, he couldn't raise his arm and it was all he could do to remain standing.

        "You plan on walkin' him all the way back, Stanley?" Vecchio inquired from behind.

         Stan turned startled and immediately lost his delicate balance.

        On instinct, Vecchio moved forward and caught the toppling blonde before Stan hit the ground. He slipped an arm around Stanley, supporting him as Stan reached for the horse.

        "What...what are you doing here?" Stan hissed, grabbing the Malaki's saddle and pulling away from the Italian. "I thought you left with..." He gasped as a spasm of pain rocked him, then caught his breath again. "Fraser," he finished weakly.

        "Yah, well," Vecchio shrugged, "I thought you said you weren't hurt?"

        "Not," Stan denied. "Just...just wrenched my shoulder on the climb."

        "Yah, guess you pulled a couple of ribs too then, huh?" Vecchio had noticed the way Stan had cradled them when he'd risen to his feet earlier.

        "Hit...the plane glanced off me before it fell, I think."

        "And you were gonna tell us this...when?"

        "Look, Vecchio..." Stan began, then stopped just as suddenly. Oops there goes the old adrenaline.

        The pain hit him dead center creating chaos and pandemonium through his unsuspecting body. His internal warning system clicked in, and he knew he was about to pass out from sensory overload. The human body could only stand so much before it shut down for a person's own protection. The last thing he remembered was Vecchio swearing and then darkness claimed him.

        Stan awoke in the bed he and Fraser usually shared. Diefenbaker was with him, curled up at his side, protectively. Stan's shirt was off, his injured ribs had been wrapped and his shoulder was in a tidy sling. Luckily, Fraser always kept a good stock of first aid materials at the cabin.

        He carefully sat up, cradling his ribs and slowly slid his feet over the side of the bed. His jeans and socks were still on but his shirt, coat and, boots were in the corner chair. He grimaced and moved a little closer to the edge of the bed as Dief hopped down and headed into the outer room. A moment later, Ray Vecchio appeared.

        "Where's Fraser?" Stan demanded. He had thought Fraser had patched him up.

        "Well hello to you too grumpy Gus," Vecchio retorted and offered him some aspirin and a glass of water to swallow them down with. "They aren't back yet and I'm starting to get worried. It's really comin' down outside."

        Stanley rose from the bed, wincing at the effort and moved across to look out the window. Fresh snow covered everything as far as the eye could see and Stan could tell by the steady downfall that it wasn't going to stop any time soon. He had learned a lot about Canadian weather while living here with Fraser and he knew this could turn into a dangerous blizzard.

        "They're not back?" he asked anxiously, pulling the sling off his sore shoulder, so he could shrug into a heavier flannel shirt he pulled from the closet. It hung loosely on him and Vecchio suspected Stan had accidentally grabbed Fraser's shirt, but did not comment. "How long has it been snowing?"

        "About an hour and a half," Vecchio judged, " You've been out a long time, Stanley, almost six hours. I was beginning to think you had died and was just pretending to breathe to mess with me." He followed the blonde as he moved around the room to collect his boots, coat and a spare pair of gloves. "What are you doing? You're hurt y'know? Your shoulder was pulled out of socket but I had to push it back in. I don't think you broke any ribs, but I'm not Fraser so don't quote me on it."

        "Yah, thanks," Stan offered, taking the pills from Vecchio's palm, tossing them into his mouth and swallowing them with a bit of water. He imagined Vecchio quite enjoyed yanking Stan's shoulder back in place, and he was glad he had been unconscious for that part.

         Other than a little stiffness and throbbing, his shoulder seemed fine now. His ribs still hurt something fierce, but Stan was pretty sure they were only bruised and not broken. Broken ribs hurt much, much worse than what he was feeling now.

        He handed Vecchio back the glass and moved to the living room, his eyes scanning the outside through whatever window he could find. He was grateful to Vecchio for his help, but he really didn't want to think about spending any quality time with the guy. From the look outside, however, they may be preparing to do just that.

        "I'm pretty sure Fraser would have turned back to town if this hit on their way home," he offered Vecchio, who was suddenly looking anxious. "I'll call in on the radio in a bit, but first I'm gonna need your help."

        "My help?" Vecchio scoffed, surprised. "You're asking for my help?"

        "Look, I don't have a choice. Fraser isn't here and there's stuff we gotta do. I can't do it all because of my ribs, so yeah, I need your help."

        "Oh com'on, it's just a little snow," Vecchio retorted, not liking the grim determination in Kowalski's face. "Isn't it?"

        "Are you gonna help me or what?" Stan demanded retrieving his coat and moving toward the door.

        Vecchio could do nothing but follow. He set the glass he was still holding in the sink and grabbed his coat.

        "Stay, Dief," Stan ordered as they opened the back door of the cabin.

        The wind had picked up dramatically and was swirling the already high drifts about them in a clouded mist. When they stepped out, Ray was shocked to find the snow was already calf deep. Stan pointed to the covered stack of firewood.

        "There's a bin in by the stove," he hollered to be heard over the wind. "Fill it as high as you can with wood from the left side of the pile."

        "Why the left?" Vecchio asked, shivering against the dramatic drop in temperature and pulling on his gloves.

        "The right side is still green, recently cut," Stan explained. "It won't burn as well as the older wood."

        Vecchio nodded and started the chore as Stan headed for the barn. Ray filled his arms with the wood from the left side of the pile, as Stan had suggested, then returned inside to place it in the storage bin. He was on his fourth trip when Stan returned pulling a long fluorescent orange rope behind him.

        "What's that for?" Vecchio asked over the wind.

        "Tie it to that loop above the door," Stan instructed, ignoring his question. Tie it good, now. We need it to stay."

        "I know how to tie a damn knot, Stanley!" Ray retorted and quickly secured the rope through the iron loop.

        "Come with me!" Stan insisted and Vecchio followed grudgingly.

        The Italian was already freezing, the temperature had dropped dramatically since earlier in the day, and he wasn't in the mood to take orders from Kowalski. They entered the barn and Ray noticed the other end of the rope was tied to a notch similar to the one over the door of the cabin.

        Stan moved to fill Malaki's food and water, then pulled a heavy gray blanket from over the stall door. He tossed it, one handed over the horse's back and smoothed it down. He turned to Ray.

        "Can you shuck some hay into that area over by the feed bags. It's where the dogs lay and they'll need it to stay warm."

        Ray nodded and grabbed the pitchfork as the sled dogs moved out of his way. He was sweating by the time he had finished, unprepared for the different muscles he had to use for the chore, and turned back to Stan.

        He had been about to make a flippant remark about him doing all the work, but Stan was no longer next to Malaki. Ray noticed the horse now had two blankets on him and additional hay in his stall. The kennel bowls were all filled to capacity with tallow and water for the dogs, but he couldn't see Kowalski anywhere. He hadn't even heard Stan move let alone do all that.

        "Hey, Stanley? Where'd ya go?" he called and a minute later he saw a blonde head pop out of the hay loft.

        "I'll be done in a minute," Stan said then disappeared again.

        Ray frowned, set the fork back on its hook and moved over to the ladder leading up to the loft. Stan shouldn't be climbing the damn thing with his injuries. Shaking his head, Ray climbed the ladder to the loft. He was startled to find Stan gathering up the eggs from a small nest and placing them in a soft cloth he had carried in his pocket.

        "What's that?" Ray asked, curious.

        "Artemis' eggs," Stan replied. "I noticed them out here yesterday and since I can't leave the windows open on the barn or the snow will get in, we need to take them inside."

        Vecchio backed down the ladder and then watched Stan descend at a much slower pace, juggling the eggs, carefully.

        "Won't Dief eat them?" Ray asked concerned.

        "I don't think so," Stan replied as they moved to the door of the barn. He offered Ray the eggs to carry and they exchanged a questioning glance.

        Finally, Vecchio removed his fur hat and placed the eggs inside, tenderly.

        "Grab the rope the minute you're outside and get back to the cabin," Stan ordered.

         Vecchio nodded, finally understanding what the rope was for, but doubting he would need it. The cabin was only a few feet away and he could see that far. However, when he stepped out, he could barely see his hand in front of his face. A curtain of white was all he could see, as icy snow and wind pricked his eyes and face.

        "Holly shit!" he exclaimed and Stan laughed.

        "Welcome to Canada, Vecchio!" he tossed and pulled the barn door shut behind them. "Go on, I'll be there in a minute."

        Ray turned back to him. "What are you gonna do?"

        "I have to wait for Artemis. She'll come back looking for her eggs and it's the only way I'll get her inside before it gets worse."

        "I'll wait with you," Ray offered but Stan shook his head.

        "Get those eggs in where it's warm."

        "You'll freeze out here!"

        "I know what I'm doing, trust me."

        They stared at each other. It all came down to that word, didn't it. Would Ray trust Stan to take care of things without Fraser around? Well, he'd had to trust Kowalski to be his stand in for almost a year, with his friends and family, and everyone sung Stan's praises at how good a job he did being Vecchio. Fraser trusted him. Stella loved him. Ray had to believe they were right.

        "Be careful!" Ray finally yelled and smiled at the surprised look Stan shot him. "If you die out here, Benny will kill me!"

        "Understood!" Stan agreed and watched Ray turn back, using the nylon rope for guidance and balancing the eggs in his free hand.

         Ray was relieved to get inside, where Diefenbaker had been waiting anxiously. He kicked off his snow covered boots and pulled off his coat, volleying his hat carefully back and forth in either hand as he worked. He moved over to the kitchen and set the makeshift nest on the table, then thought better of it and set them higher on a shelf over the stove, just in case Dief liked Hawk eggs.

         He jumped as the transistor radio in the living room cackled and Fraser's voice came over the wire. Ray ran to intercept, taking a few tries to figure out how it worked.

         "Benny!" he cried, gratefully. "Are you guys okay? How's Stella and the kid?"

         "Ray?" Fraser inquired over the static filled line. " Everyone is fine, Ray. I saw the storm coming when we were just an hour out of town and I turned back."

         Vecchio smirked. Fraser did just as Kowalski said he would.

        "Ray?" Fraser called again, the reception was making it hard for Ray to make out his friend's words. "Where's Stan, Ray I need to talk to him."

        "He's out by the barn, Benny."

        "Alone?"

        "Yeah, he's waiting for the hawk," Vecchio explained. "We found some eggs in the barn and Stanley says he needs to get the bird inside to take care of them."

        The radio cackled badly and Ray winced. He'd only caught a few of Fraser's words.

        "I didn't hear you, Benny," he spoke into the mike. "What did you say?"

        "Tell Stan....static.......I need....static....about...." A steady stream of static followed.

        "I still can't make out what you're saying, Benny," Ray stated, frustrated.

        "What?" Fraser asked, apparently not hearing Ray any better..

        "I said I can't..." Ray paused as the door opened and Stan stepped inside, with Artemis on his arm. "It's Fraser but I can't hear half of what he's saying."

        Stan nodded and bobbed his arm so Artemis would fly to her perch by the window that Stan had made for her. He pulled off his boots and coat and moved to the radio. He hit the top of it with his fist, twice, then picked up the mike.

        "Fraser, Buddy, you there?"

        The radio cackled again and Fraser's relieved voice came through more clearly.

        "Yes, Stan. Thank heavens I can hear you. It's a bad one, Stan, and it's headed in your direction."

        "No problem, Fraser," Stan assured, perching on the corner of the desk. "Everything's taken care of. The barn's locked up tight and we've got plenty of wood inside."

        "I'm sure you've thought of everything, Stan," Fraser confirmed. "How are you feeling?"

        "I'm fine, Fraser," Stan sighed, ignoring the scolding glare that Vecchio cast him as he moved to look out the window again.

        "We'll have to stay here until it blows over," Fraser stated. "Which, probably won't be for another twenty four hours at least. "

        Stan grimaced. That would mean that the roads wouldn't be cleared for another half a day or more, so he was looking at a minimum of 48 hours alone with Vecchio. He rolled his eyes and silently asked God why He hated him so much in particular this week.

        "We'll be fine, Fraser," Stan assured, sensing his partner's trepidation. "I promise not to kill Vecchio, unless provoked."

        "That would be appreciated, Stan," Fraser commented and there was a smile in his voice.  "Would Ray like to speak with Stella?"

        Ray took the mike from Stan and spoke to his wife, assuring her that everything was going to be okay and that Fraser would take good care of her. Stan tried not to gag when they professed their love for each other.

         Finally, Fraser was speaking again and Ray handed the mike to Stan, before heading into the bedroom.

        Stan was surprised by the courtesy and again perched on the corner of the desk.

        "How's Bonnie, Fraser?"

        "Shaken up but uninjured," Fraser informed. "It was a good thing you retrieved her bag for her, Stan, she is a diabetic and it has her insulin as well as all the papers the authority needed of her and her family. Her parents did well in packing it for an emergency, although I am sure they could not have predicted what happened. The authorities are still trying to contact the nexk of kin."

        "Yah, that's good, Fraser," Stan returned, quietly, cradling his now throbbing ribs. "So Stella's okay too, then?"

        There was a long pause before Fraser answered. "Stella is fine, Stan. Did you wish to speak to her?"

        "No, no, just you know, asking." Stan rose to his feet because sitting put added pressure in his ribs. "So, I guess they'll miss their flight then, huh?"

        "Yes, Stan," Fraser concurred. "And depending on the weather, it may be a few days before they can get another one, as you know flights out are rare up here."

        "Great," Stan muttered.

        "I could ask them to stay here in town, Stan?" Fraser offered.

        Stan wouldn't give Vecchio the satisfaction. "No, no. They're company, they can stay here, no problem. It's your cabin, Fraser. You do as you please. Invite them or don't. Makes no difference to me."

        He heard Fraser sigh. "It is also your home, Stan."

        Stan was silent.

        "We will talk when we return, Stan," Fraser stated.

         "Call if you have any news of the storm, Fraser," Stan requested, then set the mike back on its hook, not bothering to wait for an answer.

        The storm lasted three days and Stan was almost at his wits end, by the time Fraser radioed that they could safely return. There was also a plane leaving tomorrow morning for supplies, that Fraser suggested Stella and Ray could fly on as far as the nearest airport. Eager to hear this, Vecchio accepted and Stan decided he would take Vecchio in on the sled, rather than Fraser have to drive to the cabin and drive back again to the air strip.

        Ray and Stan were getting along as well as could be expected. They had not become best buddies during their isolation, but each seemed to gather a little more respect for the other. Stan had been surprised at Vecchio's willingness to help out, because of Stan's injuries.

        Granted, the Italian still made snarkey remarks from time to time, but overall he was almost pleasant. Especially, when Artemis' eggs hatched and Ray had been simply beside himself at the three beautiful baby hawks. Stan allowed Ray to name two of the three, leaving the third one for Fraser to name. Artemis, the proud Mother was glad when she could finally step outside and fly the skies, content to leave her children in the human's capable hands.

        Ray was secretly impressed with Kowalski's knowledge of the area, the weather and all things in between. He enjoyed taking care of the animals with the blonde and they had even enjoyed a few friendly games of cards. Ray could see why Fraser enjoyed being around Stan, even injured and cooped up for days, the guy was a tide bowl of energy and good humor. He made the smallest things amusing, with his off hand comments or dramatic statements.

        Together they learned they both liked baseball, cards and mystery novels. They got into a few playful arguments over their favorite sportsmen or actors, but overall they remained civil and accommodating.

        They moved the baby hawks to the hay loft again, so Artemis could take care of them while they were gone, then Stan hitched Dief to the head of the team and off they went toward the village. It was still bitterly cold, the snow had stopped but the temperature drop remained. Stan made sure Vecchio was bundled as warm as he could be before they left.

        They reached town a few hours later and Maggie hustled Ray inside to warm up. Stan and Fraser sheltered the animals and sled in Maggie's small barn, and gave them each food and water. Dief ate a portion of the food then hurried to the house to be let inside.

        "So, how did it go?" Fraser inquired as they closed up the barn.

        "He's still alive, isn't he?" Stan retorted and Fraser tilted his head, reprovingly. "Fine, it went fine, Fraser."

        "How are your ribs?" the Mountie demanded and Stan made a face. Ray must have let it slip during one of his talks over the radio to Stella.

        "They're just bruised," he assured. "Don't worry so much."

        "I do worry, Stan," Fraser insisted. "I worry because you've started keeping things from me and I don't know why."

         Stan shook his head. "I'm not..."

        "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" Fraser accused. "I had to find out from Stella after Ray told her."

        "Vecchio has a big mouth!" Stan snapped, then immediately tried to calm himself. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I...I was worried about Bonnie and I...I didn't think it was that bad."

        Fraser regarded him, silently, until Stan was forced to look away. "You mean you pretended it wasn't bad so Stella wouldn't worry."

        Or you, Stan added silently, but he didn't voice the words. "It doesn't matter. They'll be gone soon and..."

         Fraser shook his head and glanced down at his boots. "This isn't going to work, Stan," he stated.

          Stan shot him a defensive look.

        "I'm tryin' to get along with them, Fraser!" he exclaimed. "I'm doing my very best here..."

        "Obviously your best isn't enough, Stan," Fraser interceded, coolly.

          Stan gaped at him in shock.

        "What?"

         Fraser met his startled gaze. "You're lying, pretending to be someone you are not, and allowing yourself to suffer just to protect Stella's precious feelings. How long is she going to rule over you, Stan? Why do you let her play you like a puppet?"

        Stan shrugged, confused by the sudden change in topic. What did him not telling Fraser he was hurt have to do with Stella?

         "It has to stop," Fraser insisted. "You're only hurting yourself. I don't like to pre-judge people, Stan, but all I've seen Stella do is manipulate and hurt you."

        "She's good at it, I guess," Stan offered weakly.

        Fraser shook his head. "If you can't get over her, maybe it's time you went back to Chicago, then."

        Stan regarded him in puzzled.

        "What? Why? Stella doesn't live here she..."

        Fraser nodded. "But you're still in love with her and you...you'll never get over the hold she has on you, not while living here."

        "Why do I have to?" Stan asked, confused. "It doesn't have anything to do with you and me, Fraser so why..."

        "It does have something..."

        They both glanced toward the house as Maggie stepped outside to look for them. Fraser paused grew uncomfortable, as if revealing too much.

        "I would understand if you decided to return to Chicago, Stan."

        Stan stared at him him, confused, hurt and angry. He felt like he just stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. After all he had done, all that time spent with Vecchio and on his best behavior. It had all been for Fraser and now the Mountie was asking him to leave.

         "Oh, well, okay then," he snarled, finally. "So, in other words, here's your hat what's your hurry?"

        Fraser actually flinched and turned away.

        "Oh fuck this." Stan stood and quickly moved away from the Mountie before he followed his instinct and hit his friend. "I can't believe this shit. Vecchio comes for a visit, he barges in to our home and our life and I'm the one you want to leave? Well, that's just fine, Mountie." He grabbed up his small duffel bag that they had retrieved from the sled. Fraser could see the tears swimming in his eyes. "Nice knowin' ya partner, I'll make sure not to write."

        Fraser watched his friend leave and felt his heart drop into his stomach. What had he done? He hadn't meant for the conversation to go that way, he didn't want Stan to leave. He was just so frustrated that Stan was still allowing his feelings for Stella to rule him. How could he make his friend understand that as long as he loved Stella, things with them would never work? He didn't want to hold Stan back from falling in love again, but he was afraid to confess his true feelings, so what could he do?

         "Ben, what's going on?" Maggie demanded as Fraser stood staring after his partner, wretchedly.

         "I...I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what I've done." He turned to her, his eyes swimming. He had finally admitted to her how he felt about Stan during their time here and his sister had not been surprised by the news. "What have I done?"

         "Go after him, Ben," she ordered firmly. "Tell him how you feel..."

         "I can't!" Fraser refused, appalled. "He...he'll hate me, Maggie. I couldn't stand that, not from Stan."

         "Ben, he'll hate you much worse if you let him walk out of your life without telling him you love him."

        Fraser  regarded her with surprise and then gratitude. He called Dief to him and hurried after Stan.

         Fraser tried the pub they had been to earlier, but no one had seen the American.  There was no one home at Ira and Jayad's, when Fraser checked there. Fraser didn't think Stan would try going home this late, in the dark and without the sled dogs, but as angry and hurt as Stan was, anything was possible. He was forced to get Dief to try and track their friend, but even the wolf could find no sign of him.

         Finally, they stopped by the pond and sunk onto one of the benches in defeat. Fraser was close to tears and Diefenbaker was whining pitifully.  The sound of someone on the ice caught their attention and Fraser glanced up as Diefenbaker suddenly ran out to the two native men, who were having a late game. Fraser approached them, hopefully.

         "Ira, Jayad, have either of you seen Ray, er...Stan?" he inquired and both men nodded.

         "Yeah, he asked if we'd give him a ride back to the cabin tomorrow, " Jayad confirmed, kindly. "Then I think he said he was going to go to Artrella's."

         "Is everything okay, Fraser?" Ira asked, concerned. "Blondie didn't look so good."

         Fraser nodded. "Yes, at least it will be as soon as I talk to him. Thank you kindly." He hurried off with Dief at his heels.

         Fraser greeted the old, native woman, who ran the sweat lodge, and requested entry. He spoke to her in Inuit, explaining what he could and she smiled and wished him a good journey as he entered one of the tents. Dief remained with Artrella, outside. He removed his clothing and set it in one of baskets offered, than wrapped a traditional cloth across his hips and entered the inner sanctum of the lodge.

        Stan was alone beside the steaming coals, naked but for the leather cloth covering his groin area. His eyes were closed in deep concentration, so he didn't appear to hear Fraser enter. Sweat glistened on his chest and face as the surrounding heat relaxed his muscles. Fraser observed fresh tear tracks on his friend's face and lowered his eyes, guiltily.

        "Stan?" he greeted hesitantly. He was surprised that his partner wasn't startled by his presence. Perhaps, Stan was more attuned than he thought.

        "Leave me alone, Fraser," he warned in a low voice. "I'm trying to release some of my inner aggressions without killing something."

        "Stan, I...I apologize for what I said," Fraser offered. "I didn't mean it to...to come out the way it did. I just..."

        "Fraser?" another warning and Fraser heeded his friend's request.

        They sat for a long time; each lost in their one private meditation. Fraser had introduced Stan to the lodges the first time they came into town. Stan, as always, was willing to try anything and he soon became addicted to them. Every time they came to town now, he would spend a few hours in the peaceful setting.

        The legend of the sweat lodges intrigued Stan, and although he had not yet had a vision or trip through the dream realm that the lodges bragged of, Stan kept trying. Ira had teased that Stan had too much against him to receive a vision, he was white and American. Ira didn't mean anything by it, of course, and it just caused Stan to try harder to prove the native wrong.

        Fraser himself had one or two visions, but both were when he was younger and before he met Stan. The visions were intensely private and most times, if you couldn't understand what the spirits were trying to tell you, you could usually speak to an elder in the tribe or the owner of the lodges for guidance.

        Fraser opened his eyes. For once, the lodges could not calm him. He was too anxious and afraid of losing Stan, because of his own stupidity. He studied his partner quietly, matching the soft rhythm of Stan's chest as it rose and fell with his breathing. He observed the way Stan's thumb caressed the two small, pearl-faced stones he held in each palm. The American was too fidgety to remain completely still, so Fraser had given him the stones to help settle him. They were rubbed almost completely smooth, which only proved that Stan was getting valuable use out of them.

        Stan sighed allowing the heat and scented atmosphere to carry him away from his troubles. If ever he needed a vision it was now. The pain caused by Fraser's words was almost unbearable. He felt more lost now than he had when they had been chasing Muldoon.

         Fraser's suggestion of departure had caught Stan so much by surprise that the Mountie may as well have shoved him out of a plane without a parachute. Granted, Fraser had done that very thing at one point, but it was the concept that Stan found disconcerting; the betrayal.

        Just when Stan thought things were going well, that he finally found a place for himself, things went wrong. Finally, Ray had felt content in his own skin, here with Fraser. He'd achieved his own, private level of greatness and Fraser had swept the rug out from beneath him.

        He had made the off-handed comment to Vecchio and Stella that everyone leaves him eventually, no one stayed for good. Stan had thought that way for a long time. His brother Frank had left straight out of high school and moved to another state. Stan's folks left when Stan entered the police academy. Granted they came back, but that was ten years later, and things weren't the same. Stella left him and dismissed their marriage.  Now, Stan was the one being asked to leave by his best friend.

        So, he had been correct, no one could stay with him forever. It had to be something in Stan that made people run in the other direction, something about him that turned people away at some point. Stan was angry with himself for letting his guard down, for trusting Fraser, for allowing himself to hope. His father had been right, Stan was a fool.

        Stan thought back over his time with the Mountie, searching for where he might have gone wrong. Something he said, something he did that would make Fraser not want him around anymore. He simply couldn't believe it was only about Stella still leading Stan around by the nose; it had never seemed to bother the Canadian in Chicago.

        It had to either be something Stan had done, or the fact that he let his anger rule and actually got physical with Vecchio the last time they were at Maggie's. Stan found that hard to swallow as well, not considering all the times Fraser assured him their friendship was just as solid as Fraser and Ray's. That left only one other reason and that was that Fraser had some how sensed Stan's reaction to their kiss, his confusion and so the Mountie was looking for an excuse to get rid of him.

        Stan shook his head, wondering where the hell the words had come from. He and Fraser had that conversation just a few days after they met, when Stan was pretending to be Ray Vecchio. Why would he be thinking about that now? Unless it was his subconscious telling him that Stan had inadvertently given Fraser the wrong impression from the beginning. But why then, did the Mountie want to stay with him? If maintaining Vecchio's cover was all there was, why did Fraser suggest Stan go with him in search of Franklin's Hand?

        He'd always wondered why Fraser had seemed so angry that day. Sure, they'd been shot at, abducted, and were a sinking ship, but it took Stan bringing up the termination of their partnership to get Fraser angry or frustrated. Stan hadn't been thrilled about it either, but he felt it was best. They had been getting stale and uncommunicative.

        They had both been enormously relieved when they managed to work things out. Stan had felt as though a weight had been lifted off his heart. Fraser seemed just as happy. Of course, that was just because Stan was going to maintain his charade as Vecchio, wasn't it? Fraser had said nothing had changed between them after the Buddy Breathing thing.

         Stan didn't understand why past dialogue with Fraser chose this moment to repeat itself, but he took the opportunity to clear his head and really hear the words, find the true meaning behind them. After all, that was why he was here, to find some answers. Whatever spirits might be at work in the sweat lodge, they obviously felt past conversations were relevant.

         Well, that was true, he did love Fraser, he never tried to deny it. Fraser had said he loved him, symbolically of course, so where was the problem? Guys could love each other without it becoming sexual that was what friendship was all about.

         Remnants of the past few days filtered through Stan's mind. He recalled what Stella had said about Fraser acting more like a protective lover than just a friend and partner, the day he showed her the beaver dam. Although, part of that Stan was sure she got from Vecchio, but she still claimed Stan had changed and he and Fraser seemed entirely to close.

         When they returned and Stan admitted her suspicions to Fraser, the detective had not gotten the response he had been expecting. He expected Fraser to say something like, 'that's just silly, Ray' or be appalled that the Vecchio's were thinking such a thing. Instead, Fraser just confirmed that they were more than friends, they were partners. But that was Fraser, he took everything literally and missed all the possible innuendo associated with it. In fact, Fraser had seemed more upset when Stan told him how close he had come to kidding Stella that what she had accused Fraser of.

       Fraser's quiet words haunted him.

        'She was commenting on me being out here with just you for company. You know, what about my urges, so to speak? My needs and desires?'
        'What did you tell her?'
        'That it wasn't appropriate to be discussing my urges while she was married to Vecchio. After, I asked was if she was offering her services to help fulfill those urges.'
        'Would you have taken her up on it if she had, Stan?'

        Something about the way Fraser had asked him that question had bothered Stan, but he couldn't put his finger on it then. He could only assume that it was disapproval because Stella was now married to Ray Vecchio, the Mountie's best friend.

        Stan began to wonder just what Fraser was feeling for him, then. Did he consider Vecchio a better friend because they had known each other longer? If so, Stan could accept that, he may not like it, but he could accept it. Stan had told Fraser he was comfortable being with him, happy and it didn't matter to him who came and who went as long as it was the two of them again in the end. Could Fraser have taken that to be a profession of love? Was it admitting to feelings that Stan found frightening, on a subconscious level?

        Oh God! Stan was jealous of Vecchio and Fraser; he'd admitted it. He'd kept thinking it was just over friendship, but now he realized it was much more than that. He had to feel more for the Mountie, or why would he be jealous thinking of Fraser and anyone else? No wonder Fraser wanted him to leave, the Mountie knew about Stan's feelings.

         Fraser's voice echoed through his mind and he stopped breathing for a long moment. That couldn't be right. Fraser was just being polite, like when Stan had said he loved him, symbolically or something. Surely the Mountie hadn't meant it the way it sounded. Of course, Stan didn't realize he had meant it as it sounded until now.

        Stan thought back to the night at the pub where he had drank entirely too much. The fight with Stella and Vecchio at Maggie's later that evening and Fraser's disappointment in him. Ira's words

         Fraser had seemed more disappointed that Stan had lied to protect Stella than the fact that he and Vecchio had come to blows.

        Fraser never specified what wasn't going to work, Stan had just assumed the Mountie was talking about getting along with Vecchio.

        Over and over, Stella seemed to be the main concern for Fraser and Stan couldn't understand why. It wasn't like Stan was throwing himself at his ex-wife, like he used to. If anything, it seemed that Stella was pursing him.

        Had Stan been mistaken or had Fraser's voice held a touch of anger and even remorse.

        Maggie had chosen that moment to step outside, where they had been talking, so Stan did not hear the rest of what Fraser was going to say.

        Fraser's final words pretty much summed up that he wanted Stan to leave, or so Stan thought. Again he searched his mind for the remaining pieces to the puzzle. He could admit now, that he had feelings for Fraser, and perhaps he had simply needed the time to really think about them, without anger and fear ruling his head.

        Stan replayed segments of the different things Fraser had said over the past few days.

'Yes, Ray Vecchio is my friend and I feel close to him, but it is different that what I feel for you.'

'You and I are partners now and always, in every way that counts. I just...this is your home now too'

'Stan's presence here has made the cabin feel more like a home, don't you think?'

'Well, you two sure seem cozy all right.'
 

        Vecchio's response had been playing on Stan's mind for awhile, and he couldn't understand why he hadn't just been able to dismiss the remark, as he usually did with anything that came out of Vecchio's mouth.

        He thought about his conversation with Stella.

        'You're like a different person. Stronger, calmer, more sure of yourself, I guess. I can't place what it is, but you are different.'
        'Not really. I'm the same guy, I just feel...less paranoid here about being me. Sure, I've learned a lot and had to make a few adjustments, but that's all good because I like who I am now, better than I was before, you know?
        'You seem happier.'
        'I'll never be as happy as I was with you, Stella. Don't ever think that. But, I'm content enough I think, being here with Fraser.'

        Stan had to admit that he had been content to stay with Fraser. They got on well and being with the Mountie always seemed to make it easier for Stan to get up in the morning and face the day. Stan had felt that way in Chicago too, after working with the Canadian a few weeks.

        Stan was more secure, more relaxed than he had been in Chicago. Could it be that he'd had feelings for Fraser all along and they were only just now coming to the surface? If that was true, why didn't he ever have a hint to them before? Did it take seeing Fraser so close to some one else, like Vecchio, to jolt those feelings in Stan to the surface?

        When he thought Fraser would be partnering with Vecchio or not returning to Chicago at all, Stan had been devastated. He'd contributed it to so many changes so quickly. For a year he lived as Ray Vecchio, the Mountie's friend and partner, Ma Vecchio's son and Frannie's brother. Suddenly, upon Vecchio's return, Stan realized he would loose many of the people he had grown to treasure. He panicked, that was natural, right?

        Now he was in a dilemma. Fraser had asked him to leave, but Stan didn't want to go. He couldn't be certain he was reading Fraser right and there was no way Stan was going to open up and confess his love for the Mountie without knowing how Fraser felt about him first. Therefore, what was left for him to do?

        Fraser could be as naive as a child, yet still find a way to manipulate people when he needed to. Stan often knew when Fraser was playing him, but went along anyway, because in the end the Mountie would be right in his judgment. Stan wondered if there was a way to turn that to his advantage and get Fraser to admit his feelings, if there were any. It would be difficult, Fraser was not readily open with anyone, not even Stan sometimes, when it came to the Canadian's heart.

        Fraser's gaze roamed over Stan's sedated features with a careful eye, missing nothing. He could close his eyes and draw every detail of his partner's handsome face. From the crown of Stan's hairline, to his slightly upturned chin, Fraser knew every inch from many hours of study when his friend wasn't looking. Many times, Fraser would be content to watch Stan sleep, but would stop after a few minutes, worried his friend would awaken and catch him.

        "Fraser?" Stan suddenly said, breaking the silence and startling Fraser from his thoughts.

        He blushed guiltily, but noticed that Stan still had his eyes closed.

        "Yes, Stan?" Fraser replied, hoping his voice didn't betray his guilt.

        "You're still here, then," was all Stan said.

         Fraser couldn't tell if his friend was relieved or disappointed.

        "I'm afraid so, yes," he admitted quietly. Stan must have been deep in meditation if he'd been confused whether or not the Mountie had left. "Do you feel any better?"

        Ray finally opened his eyes and Fraser held his breath, amazed. Whatever his partner had experienced, however deeply he had allowed himself to go, Stan's eyes now resembled the deep blue of the Atlantic. They were crystal clear and shining and they took Fraser's breath away.

        "What's wrong?" Stan asked, frowning and his eyes immediately started to loose some of their brilliance. They clouded to their usually, soft bluish-green, but Fraser still thought them beautiful.

        "Nothing, " he assured calmly. "How do you feel?"

        Stan shrugged and stretched slightly. "Like pudding," he announced and Fraser's lips twitched. "How about you?"

        "I regret that I did not enjoy the lodge as much as usual," Fraser admitted, quietly. "Stan, I really am sorry for what I said and..."

        "No, you were right, Fraser," Stan stated, mildly and placed both stones in his left hand as his right adjusted his towel. Agreeing with the Mountie usually proved to be a tool Stan could use, if he played it right. He rose to his feet, ignoring Fraser's stunned statement. "It's time I moved on. I'm holding you back from the things you want to do too, so it's good we got that out. Better not to resent each other later."

        Fraser scrambled to his feet. "Stan I didn't mean what I said," he rushed as they moved to the outer room to gather their clothing. "I...I was upset but I...I don't want you to go. You aren't holding me back from anything..."

        Stan dressed quickly and placed the stones in his jeans pocket. "It's okay, Fraser. I'm not mad anymore, or even hurt. I just needed to...focus on things and you were right. I mean, I do let Stella control me still and I do allow Vecchio to push my buttons. As long as I keep doing that, I'm just a stone around your neck. You don't need to defend me to Vecchio anymore and I won't be in the way of the more exciting things you might like to do, like meet a girl and get married or something."

        "Stan, please," Fraser pleaded as he finished dressing and shrugged into his coat to follow his partner out.

        Stan paused to speak with the old woman and make an offering for the use of the lodge, Fraser did the same and then the three of them were headed down the hill.

        "I'm gonna stay at Ira's tonight," Stan told him as they neared the pond. "He said he'd drive me back to the cabin tomorrow and then to the airfield in Inskoq.

        "Ray!" Fraser exclaimed and Stan paused to look at him. "Don't do this. I don't want you to leave, really." He ran a hand through his hair.

          Stan had never seen his friend so agitated, and he struggled to keep a straight face.

         "Why do you pick now to listen to me, for Heaven's sake?" Fraser inquired. "Any other time you'd ignore me or do what you want regardless."

        Stan smirked. "I listen to you plenty, Fraser," he assured. "And I know what I heard." His penetrating stare pierced the Mountie's worried gaze. "At least, I do now that I've thought about it a bit. I'm just wondering if you know what you said."

        Fraser stared at him confused. "Ray I...I don't understand! I've apologized for what I said. I was hurt and angry and..."

        Stan nodded. "But, do you know what you said, Fraser?"

        "I...yes I just said I...."

        Stan shook his head. "Then you wouldn't be apologizing," he sighed and started away again.

        Fraser stared after him confused. He shook his head and caught up with his partner, before he made the turn to go to Ira's home. "Ray..."

        The change in his name was not lost on the detective and he could tell Fraser was growing increasingly distressed.

        "Call me Stan, Fraser," Stan insisted. "I want to make sure you know who you're talking to."

        "I...of course I know who I'm talking to, Ra...Stan," he amended and Stan grinned.
"Why...I don't understand if you are trying to confuse me or if it's your revenge for my hurting you earlier, but please, Stan, come home with me. At least for tomorrow so we can talk."

        "Talk about what, Fraser?" Stan challenged. "I thought we said everything."

        "Please, Stan?" Fraser implored and finally Stan nodded. "Thank you."

         Stan remained strangely quiet the following morning, as they prepared to take Ray and Stella to the airstrip. The only one Stan spoke to directly was Maggie, and then it was in discrete whispers which only incensed Stella and confused Fraser. Ira and Jayad stopped by to wish the Vecchio's a safe journey and Fraser noticed that Stan and Ira had wandered off to speak privately as well.

        He was beginning to wonder if Stan had experienced some kind of vision and was asking about his friends about it, rather than the elders. It hurt that Stan would not speak to Fraser about it, but after their discussion last night, he couldn't really blame his partner for still being angry with him.

        They were just a few miles from the small air field when something caught Stan's eyes. He requested Fraser stop and stepped out.

        "My God, it isn't another plane crash, is it?" Stella asked, worried as they also exited the vehicle.

        Stan was staring upwards at an object above them and when he waved his arm then straightened it, they knew that Artemis had somehow followed them from the cabin and was no doubt looking for her benefactor.

        A shot rang out and Stan screamed in denial as he watched the bird jolt backwards then start spiraling downward.

        "Oh no!" Ray whispered as they all followed Stan's frantic dash to where the hawk had fallen. When they arrived, Stan was cradling Artemis in his gloved hands, the bird was limp and lifeless.

        "Oh, Stan," Stella swallowed the lump rising in her throat.

        Stan's tear filled eyes raised to Fraser's, hopefully. "We can fix her again, right Fraser? You and me we can..." He broke off as his voice broke.

        Fraser knelt to examine Artemis, then shook his head, regretfully.

        "I'm so sorry, Stan," he offered, gently. "The bullet pierced her heart. It was a clean shot."

        Stan dropped the hawk and bolted to his feet. Some stupid hunter shot his hawk. The hawk shouldn't have been this far from the cabin anyway; she should have stayed on Fraser's land where she was protected.

        "Stupid bird!" he muttered, bitterly, wiping the back if his hand across his face to dismiss his tears. "Stupid, stupid bird!"

        Fraser moved as though to embrace him and Stan turned from him, angrily.

        "I'm really sorry about your hawk, Stanley," Vecchio offered, softly. "I wish there was something I could do..."

        "I just want you to stop calling me Stanley!" Stan exclaimed, distressed. "Just stop calling me Stanley!" He gripped his head and pulled at his hair as he tried to turn his anger and grief inward. He didn't need this now, he really didn't. There was only so much a guy could deal with at a time.

        Fraser's eyes met Ray's and he nodded. The Italian escorted his wife back to the jeep and left Fraser and Stan alone. Fraser stepped up, hesitantly. His own statement was veiled in anger and regret at the waste. Killing a bird of prey was illegal in Canada and he would find the person responsible, but not now. For once, he put his partner's needs before his quest for justice. There would be time for retribution later, Fraser would make sure of that. He reached out and pulled Stan into his arms.

        "Oh God, Fraser," Stan whimpered, curling into his partner's strong arms. "She must have followed us. I never thought she'd follow us and now because of me she's dead."

        "She would have died a long time ago if not for you, Stan," Fraser reminded, firmly as his hand caressed Ray's hair soothingly. "It isn't your fault. I promise you we will find Artemis' killer. This heinous crime will not go unpunished..."

        "It doesn't matter," Stan sniffed and took a step back, suddenly uncomfortable about the effect their intimate contact was causing. "I screwed up, just like always. She's gone, like I said, everyone leaves me one way or another."

        "It does matter, Stan," Fraser insisted. "Killing a bird of prey is a Federal offense here. We will find the culprit on my word as a Mountie." He paused, knowing Stan did not need promises or lectures right now. He squeezed Stan's shoulder, affectionately. "I will never leave you, Stan."

         Stan met his gaze, doubtfully. "No, you want me to leave, remember?" he couldn't help reminding.

        Fraser scowled. "I told you I didn't mean that, Stan," he insisted. "I know you are upset and rightfully so, but we haven't the time for this right now. We have to get Ray and Stella to the airfield so they can leave. Then we can talk, okay?"

        "Why is it Fraser, that every other time a crime is committed you're hell bent for leather to chase after the perps, but now because Vecchio's here, you want to wait?" Stan demanded. "You never waited for me, Fraser. You ran head long into trouble and expected me to follow. You never asked me if I had better things to do, or even if I thought it was a good idea."

        "Stan that isn't it at all," Fraser protested. "The airfield is only a short distance and then we can double back and concentrate..."

        "Admit it, Vecchio means more to you, doesn't he?"

        "Stan you're being unreasonable..."

        Stan tossed his arms out in sacrificial exasperation. "Unreasonable, Fraser! Ya want me to be reasonable? After all the shit I've had to go through these past through days for your friends and you want me to be reasonable?"

        Fraser caressed his eyebrow nervously and cast a quick glance around them, to see that they were still unobserved.

        "Perhaps unreasonable is too strong a word," he agreed. "I only meant that you are not thinking straight at the moment and..."

        Stan chuckled ironically. "No, Fraser, " he agreed. "I am definitely not thinking straight, lately."

        Fraser completely missed the hidden meaning of Stan's remark and again tried to rationalize.

        "Stan, I promised you we would find the perpetrator. Have I not always kept my word to you?"

        "Admit it's because of Vecchio," Stan growled. "Admit you're waiting because he has priority."

        "Stan they are our guests..."

        "Admit that he means more to you, Fraser. Admit. It."

        Fraser stared at his partner, frustrated. "Fine," he replied, his anger taking over. "At this moment getting Ray and Stella to the plane does take precedence over whoever shot Aretmis." Because I want them gone, he wanted to scream at Stan. I want them away from here so we can be the way we were, so we can be partners again and you'll stop thinking of Stella. To hell with the hunter, to hell with everything else but getting time to talk to his partner, Fraser thought, desperately.

        Stan nodded and walked away silently. He stooped to pick up the hawk then headed back to the jeep, without looking to see if Fraser was following him.

         Ray was waiting for them, leaned against the vehicle. He saw that Stan had retrieved Artemis and automatically produced a silk shirt he had retrieved from one of his bags.

        "We can put her in this if you like, Stan," Ray offered, quietly. "Just for now."

        "Isn't that one of them fancy designer shirts, Vecchio?" Stan asked, startled by the offer and the fact that Ray called him Stan and not Stanley.

        Ray shrugged. "It's just a shirt," he assured. "The bird deserves the best, right?"

        Stan was unexpectedly touched by the Italian's generosity and was unsure how to react. Finally, he accepted the shirt and wrapped Artemis in it then placed her in the very back of the jeep. Diefenbaker had remained at Maggie's so they didn't have to worry about the wolf getting at the hawk's body.

        Stan slowly slid in beside Fraser as the Mountie started up the engine again.

        Ray sat forward and patted Stan's shoulder, comfortingly. "Guess you'll have to raise those baby hawks on your own, Stan. I'm sure you'll do a great job, though."

        "Thanks Vec...Ray," Stan returned dully. He had forgotten about the three babies back in their barn. Now they didn't have a Mother and it was all Stan's fault.

         They pulled onto the airfield a short while later and Fraser pulled up to the small supply plane. He and Stan retrieved their bags and walked with them to greet the pilot.

        "Is that thing safe?" Stella questioned, warily, eyeing the plane with some trepidation, after the pilot had taken their bags aboard.

        "Perfectly safe, I assure you," Fraser returned, calmly, the short drive over had given him time to regain his composure. "And Arnold is an excellent pilot, you should have no trouble."

        "Well, this is it, Benny," Ray announced and moved in for a hug from the Mountie. "You take care of yourself and try not to give poor Dief too hard of a time."

        Fraser smiled and returned the embrace warmly. "I shall do my best to spoil him in the way he has become accustomed, Ray."

        Ray laughed

        "Goodbye, Stan," Stella offered, stepping forward and offering her ex-husband her hand.

        "Take care, Stella," he returned, placing her hand in his. After a moment, he pulled her to him and hugged her hard. "You've got a good guy there, sweetheart. Try not to make the mistakes we did, okay? He loves you."

        Stella's eyes misted over at Stan's approval and she shakily kissed his cheek before releasing him.

        "I'll try," she promised. Then she smiled brightly. "I want pictures of that beaver dam when it's built and don't forget to send me some more fossils if you find any; I think I shall try making a garden out of them."

        The idea of Stella, actually getting down and dirty in a garden brought a smile to Stan's lips. "I'll see what I can do." He bent to kiss her cheek in a sweet farewell and whispered "We'll always be friends. Anytime you need me I'll be here."

        Stella nodded. She understood he was offering her his affection and loyalty but that she no longer had the right to his heart. She knew who owned that portion of Stan now and she envied Fraser, knowing how it was to be loved as completely as Stan loved someone.

        "Stanley," Ray said for good measure and Stan had to laugh as he shook the other man's hand. "This is it, we're out of here."

        "Thank God!" Stan retorted but maintained his smile so Vecchio wasn't offended. "It's been...interesting, Vecchio."

        Ray smirked and suddenly pulled Stan in for a hug, startling the blonde. "Aw, com'ere ya pain in the ass." He hugged Stan briefly, but firmly in traditional Italian style. He whispered in Stan's ear. "Benny's good at avoidin' anything to do with his heart, Stan. You're gonna have to be direct if ya want him to admit he loves you."

        Stan stepped back and gaped at him in shock.

        Ray chuckled again and glanced at Fraser to see if the Mountie's keen hearing had picked up on their conversation. Fraser showed no sign he had heard and was busy speaking with Albert and assuring Stella that the plane was solid and very well maintained; despite it's appearance.

        Fraser's comments about Francesca had replayed themselves over and over in Vecchio's mind and he decided that the Mountie had been right. Ray had made the mistake of showing misgivings about Francesca, and his friend lost out on the happiness he could have had. So, even though he wasn't thrilled about the idea of Stan and Fraser doing the wild thing together, he would not stand in their way. If the Mountie was happy and loved, it didn't matter who the feelings came from.

        "What are you tryin' to say, Vecchio?"

        "I'm saying...." Ray paused to consider his words. "It's obvious to those who care enough to notice, what's happening between you two."

        "You claimin' you care about me, Vecchio?" Stan smirked.

        "No," Ray replied, calmly. "But, I do care about Fraser and..." he shrugged. "You're not quite the prick I thought you were-I might even learn to like ya."

        "Yah, well, I guess we're even because you're only half as much of an asshole as I thought you were, Vecchio."

         "But, asshole or not, I got your wife."

        Stan shrugged and Ray was proud of him for not taking the comment to heart. "And I got your partner. I think I got the better deal, Vecchio."

        Ray chuckled. 'Funny guy, you kill me, you really do."

        "I wish," Stan retorted.

        Ray lowered his voice again, serious. "It shouldn't matter who you love or how, as long as you do love and often. Benny deserves what you have to offer and I think you deserve Benny." His gaze narrowed. "But if you ever hurt him, you'll have me to deal with, understood?"

        Stan deliberated Vecchio's words thoughtfully, his earlier resentment that the Italian meant more to Fraser started to ebb a little. "I hear ya."

        Finally, Ray and Stella boarded the plane. Fraser hoped he sounded appropriately regretful of their departure, but in reality he couldn't wait until they were gone. He and Stan needed to talk. He needed to repair whatever damage he had done to their friendship. But first he needed to apologize to Stan about what his earlier anger had made him say.

        "Well, that's over with, thank God!" Stan teased as he moved back to the jeep. They would drop it off at the shop in town then take the sled back to the cabin. "Tell them to write before dropping in next time, so we can be sure to be somewhere else."

        Fraser watched him, hopefully. "Does that mean you will be staying until their next visit, Stan?"

        Stan shrugged and settled behind the wheel leaving the passenger side to Fraser. "Don't know yet," he admitted, starting the engine and pulling back from the field so they could watch the plane take off but not be in the way.

        "I'd like you to stay, Stan," Fraser stated, quietly "I don't know why...whatever I said...you took it wrong I think and I...I really didn't mean it."

        Stan watched the plane's engines come to life.  His stomach was in knots and he really didn't know if he could go through with this. What if he was reading Fraser all wrong and this charade he was maintaining only backfired? Vecchio, Ira, Stella, even Maggie all seemed to be of the same idea that the Mountie loved Stan, but Stan was feeling scared and confused about his own feelings, he didn't think he could handle  Fraser's rejection.

        "Then I guess I am leaving," he sighed, finally as the plane started it's taxi down the short runway.

        "Stan!" Fraser was getting exasperated and paying no attention whatsoever to Vecchio's departure; a sign Stan found encouraging. "I don't understand! What do I have to do to get you to stay?"

        A few ideas immediately popped into Stan's mind, shocking him by their explicitness. He quickly shook them away, careful not to look at Fraser directly. "Tell me why you wanted me to leave," he returned, quietly.

         Fraser scowled. "I...I was angry and I...I just thought, briefly that you might prefer to be somewhere else where...where a wider range of companionship would be available."

        "And what about Stella?"

        "I don't even remember what I said about, Stella," Fraser lied, then blushed because he knew Stan could see through the deception, easily. "It doesn't matter what I said about her because it isn't my business. You're in love with her and I accept that."

        "I'm not in love with Stella, anymore, Fraser," Stan denied as the plane lifted off into the horizon, just the way Artemis used to. God he would miss her, he hadn't realized he'd become so attached.

        "Of course you are," Fraser insisted, placing his hand over Stan's as his partner shifted into gear "
Stan, wait."

        "For what?"

        "We need to talk."

        "We are talking, Fraser."

        Fraser gave an impatient wave of his hand. "I want your undivided attention and driving right now would take away from that."

        "I wanna get back and look for that hunter, Fraser," he reminded, impatiently. "Vecchio's been tucked away on his plane like you wanted, so let's hit the trail while's it's fresh."

        "In a minute, Stan," Fraser implored, firmly. "A few minutes will not make a difference."

        Stan shoved the stick back into park, but left the vehicle running. He turned to look at Fraser, expectantly.

        "Okay, you now have my undivided attention. What do you plan to do with it?"

        Fraser was suddenly uncomfortable with the directness of Stan's gaze and the blunt question. He took a moment to speak.

        "You and Ray couldn't get along, because you were jealous of he and Stella, do you deny that?"

        "No," Stan confessed. "I thought that was the reason too. But in all fairness, my war with Vecchio has nothing to do with Stella, I simply can't stand the guy." He shrugged. "I just didn't realize why until last night."

        "Did you have a vision, Stan?" Fraser inquired
.
        "I don't know if it was a vision," Stan dismissed, picking at some lint on his jeans. "But whatever it was, it let me see some things in a way I hadn't before, like I had blinders on and they were suddenly removed."

        "What did you learn?" Fraser asked, intrigued. "Why do you hate Ray so much?"

        Stan turned back to face the front and shifted into drive again. "It's getting late, we'd better get back of we're gonna find that hunter and make the trip home too."

         "Stan, you promised me we would talk!" Fraser accused.

         "Later!" Ray exclaimed, his anger rising once again. "I did as you asked and waited, Fraser-but
I'm not waiting anymore. It may not mean as much to you to catch that bastard hunter but it does mean something to me and I will do it myself if I have to."

        "Of course I want to catch the culprit, Stan," Fraser insisted. "I'm not any happier about the situation that you are. Artemis was important to you and..." You are important to me he finished silently. Aloud he said. "A crime was committed and I full intend to investigate but..."

        "Then let's go," Stan returned, quickly and pulled away from the airport.

        Fraser turned toward the passenger side window and stared out, frustrated. Of course he wanted to help Stan catch the hunter, but he also desperately needed to know that Stan had forgiven him for what he had said at Maggie's and was no longer thinking of leaving. Fraser could barely concentrate on anything else; his fear of losing Stan was so great.

       Fraser knew he was being a coward. He was afraid to tell Stan and have the American be sickened and want to cut all ties to Fraser. On the other hand, he was also afraid to admit his feelings on the small chance that Stan reciprocated them, because of what that would mean for them both.

        Fraser had always considered himself a heterosexual male, he never once entertained thoughts of sex with another man. However from the moment he had met Stanley Raymond Kowalski, he had been overcome by a feeling of belonging that the Mountie had never felt before.

        He was disgusted at himself, disgusted at his own desires and tried to explain them way, logically. Victoria had almost destroyed his trust in relationships. Everyone he had ever loved had been taken from him. Losing Ray Vecchio, even just to an undercover assignment had been a terrible low for Fraser. The idea of not having his friend around him almost broke his heart and caused him to once again feel that terrible sense of isolation and loneliness.

        However, the minute his partner's replacement smiled and hugged him in greeting, Fraser knew he would not be alone again. He had felt something for Stan from the beginning and it only seemed to grow stronger the more they were together. Fraser attributed his need to be with the blonde to missing Ray. There was also the assignment and Stan had to cover for Vecchio which meant spending a lot of extra time with Fraser.

        Fraser started looking forward to his time with Stan more and more and Stan seemed pleased to be with him, as well.  It wasn't until the incident in the Henry Allen that Fraser's feelings hit an all time high and he finally began to suspect that he was in love with his partner. When Stan had told him that they should dissolve their partnership, Fraser had been terrified. He realized just how much Stan had come to mean to him and Fraser had done all he could to repair the damage to their partnership.

        He never entertained thoughts of ever telling Stan how he felt, perhaps it was as his father said, a partnership can be like a marriage. Fraser may have only been feeling the closeness he and Stan shared.
But then Stan almost drowned and Fraser was forced to give him some of his own oxygen. The feel of Stan's mouth, however startled his partner was, had sent a fury of sensations through Fraser and he had to swim away the minute Stan recovered.

        When Stan demanded an explanation, Fraser gave him what he needed to hear. When Stan thanked him, Fraser had been thinking of the kiss again and was slightly confused by his partner's reply. He ended up snapping at Stan, taking out his own anger and shame on his friend.

         The trail was still fresh and it took hardly any time at all to locate the man that had shot Artemis. The Older American claimed that he had thought the bird was a duck, but neither Fraser nor Stan bought his story, especially since duck season ended months ago. The man was charged and arrested.

        Fraser thought that apprehending the criminal would ease some of Stan's grief, but the detective was still sullen and refusing to talk about anything other than Artemis. Finally, they turned in the jeep that Vecchio had rented and headed back to Maggie's to gather their things to head home on the sled

         Stan and Fraser arrived back at the cabin just before dark. They dug a small grave for Artemis and Stan even fashioned a wooden marker. They placed rocks over it to keep any animals from digging it up.

         Later, Stan set about reading through Fraser's library of wild life books to figure out how to feed Artemis' orphaned babies. Fraser helped fashion a proper nest for them in the loft that would give them room to move around but would keep them warm without their Mother's body heat.

        They worked in silence, on the remainder of their chores, before finally returning inside for the night. Fraser prepared a simple meal of soup and sandwiches. They ate quietly, though neither seemed to have much of an appetite and Dief was the benefactor of the majority of their meal.

         Stan put the kettle on for hot chocolate, because coffee would keep them both awake, then settled at the kitchen table to wait for it to boil. Fraser sat opposite him waiting to continue their conversation from earlier.

         "You...you were going to tell me why you hate Ray Vecchio, Stan?" he reminded finally, after Stan had prepared their hot drinks and returned to the table with the plate of cookies.

        "I don't really hate him," Stan assured, sipping his chocolate and dunking his cookie for another bite. "I resent him a whole hell of a lot, but I don't hate him. I was jealous, I admit it, but not over Stella and Vecchio."

         "Well, who then?" Fraser demanded, puzzled.

        "Think about it, Fraser," Stan encouraged. "There's only four people in the loop. You take one out and who do you have left?"

        Fraser stared down at his chocolate, thoughtfully. Well, there was Stella and Ray and himself and Stan. If Stan wasn't jealous of Stella and Ray then who...He raised his eyes, shocked and could see the answer in his friend's quiet gaze.

        "Yep, that's the way I felt about it too," he commented, amused. "Scared the livin' shit out of me, in fact." He set his mug down and leaned across the table, intently. "Then I thought about what you said, Fraser. I listened to what you said, really listened to the words over and over and the way you were saying it." His smile vanished and his statement became muted. "Still wanna apologize for what you said, Buddy?"

        He knew! Somehow Stan had reached inside Fraser's heart and heard the feelings that Fraser couldn't convey openly. Stan knew that Fraser had been jealous of Stella and had seen her as a threat to his and Stan's relationship. That was why Fraser tried to force Stan to leave, because he didn't think he stood a chance in the wake of his partner's feelings for his ex-wife.

        "Stan I..." Fraser stammered, appalled, confused, hopeful and scared to death simultaneously. He couldn't tell if Stan accepted his feelings, reciprocated them or was disgusted.

        Ira hadn't told Fraser all of what he had said to Stan, but from his partner's reaction the idea that Stan could be attracted to another man had not appealed to the former Detective. However, Stan as much as admitted just now that he had been jealous of Vecchio, not over Stella but over Fraser.

        "I...I'm sure you've been confused these past few days, Stan," he offered, finally.

        That was true at least. It had been a difficult time for both of them when the Vecchio's arrived. Stan was no doubt torn between his love for Stella, his loyalty to Fraser and his resentment of Ray. It was no wonder his partner was so mixed up.

        "So what are you sayin' Fraser?" Stan demanded, tonelessly. He tried to ignore the way his heart had dropped into the pit of his stomach. "Are you sayin' I'm imagining things? That I'm reading it all wrong, what's happening between us-is that what you're sayin', Fraser?"

        "Stan," Fraser tried again, sensing his friend's frustration but afraid to do anything about it. "This had been an....emotional and no doubt confusing week. Perhaps, if we just stepped back, took some time to relax and settle back into our normal routine ..."

        Stan slammed his mug down on the table. "I don't want to settle back into a routine, Fraser!" He ran his hands through his hair and stalked to the living area a few feet away. How could he ever think he was strong enough to deal with this calmly? He never did anything calmly; it just wasn't in him. "Damnit! Why are you making this so hard? Ya think this is fun for me, ya think I'm having a good time playing this...this game?"

        Fraser watched him, startled, but remained seated. "I...what game, Stan? I don't understand what..."

        Stan growled, stalked over and grabbed Fraser by the shoulders, hauling him to his feet, roughly. "Fraser, I swear, I swear to God if you say you don't understand one more time I am gonna pop you!"

        Fraser didn't know how to respond to his partner's anger, nor what had caused it. He was trying to give Stan a way out; didn't the American understand that? Fraser knew Stan didn't want to be burdened by Fraser's feelings, he knew Stan was confused. Why was his friend so angry?

        "I..." He'd been about to say he didn't understand again, but thought better of it because of Stan's threat. They had quarreled during their time together, many do even as friends, but he had thought Stan had gotten past this physical aspect of his temper.

        Stan shook him by the shoulders. "Admit it! Tell me that you understand. Tell me I'm not alone in this, Fraser. For the love of God, Fraser I'm loosin' my freakin' mind here-are ya gonna let me do it all alone?"

        "I...I don't know what it is you wish me to say, Stan," Fraser protested, his resolve weakening. I want to tell you, Stan, he pleaded silently. Whatever you need to hear, but I don't think what I have to say and what you want to hear are the same things.

         "Fraser," Stan warned and Fraser slipped up.

        "Stan I don't understand..." His mouth snapped shut as Stan's eyes narrowed and his statement darkened, dangerously. Oh dear.

        However, instead of hitting Fraser, as promised, Stan's hard, lithe body was suddenly pressed against the Mountie, pinning him to the wall, as Stan's mouth devoured Fraser's. Fraser was in shock. He felt his entire body tremble, his heart rate increase ten fold and his legs threatened to give beneath him.

        He wanted to kiss Stan back, Oh God how he wanted to, but he was afraid. The last time, the only time, Stan had kissed him was to prove that there was nothing between them, as a testimony to Ira. This kiss was also out of anger and frustration, so Fraser was wary of responding.

        Stan swore and pulled away, releasing Fraser so abruptly that the Mountie's weakened state almost ended him up on the floor. He grabbed for the countertop beside him and managed to remain standing as Stan braced his hands against the table and lowered his head, defeated. The view it offered Fraser of his behind was almost too tempting for the Mountie to ignore, he had always liked the way Stan's jeans fit him so snugly in that area.

        "I guess that's it then," Stan finally said and straightened slowly. He didn't turn back to Fraser; he couldn't face him right now. "Sorry if I...if I crossed the line there. Ya can pop me if you want to." He shook his head. "I...I'm...not myself." Whoever the hell that might be, he added silently. "I'm going to bed."

        Fraser watched his friend walk into the bedroom and slowly lowered himself into a chair. What should he do? He'd felt Stan's reaction to their kiss; he could hardly miss it pressed together as they were. If he were only confused; then he probably wouldn't have such a strong reaction, would he?

        Fraser glanced at the doorway of their room and braced his elbows on his knees. He folded his fingers together and rested his chin on them. His heart was in his throat, he was sure his temperature was off the charts and his hands were cold and clammy. If this was what it felt like to be in love, no wonder so many people referred to others as sick.

        He traced his slightly swollen lips with the tip of his index finger, thoughtfully. Stan was an excellent kisser. He could see why Stella might still want her ex-husband. He wondered what Stan would be like with a little encouragement, instead of the stilted reaction Fraser had given him.

        Judging by Stan's reaction to the kiss, perhaps Fraser had misjudged his friend. Stan wanted  Fraser to admit to something, but Fraser was unsure what that something was. If Fraser admitted that he was in love with the volatile American, would Stan stay and reciprocate or leave in disgust? Which of those reactions was Stan finding frustrating to wait for?

        Diefenbaker whined beside him and Fraser glared at him.

        "I am not afraid," he lied.

         The wolf huffed.

        "As if you have any idea what this is about."

        Another low, pathetic, whine and a glance toward the bedroom door.

        Fraser snorted impatiently. "That is simply not the case and I will thank you to mind your own business."

        Diefenbaker barked once and stared mutely at him, offended.

        "Oh, so you want him to leave do you?"

        Dief gave a little shake and a quiet whimper.

        "Well, there you are. I don't wish him to leave either, so I simply cannot tell him."

        "Fraser, quit talkin' to the wolf and come to bed!" Stan's irritated voice called from the bedroom.

          Fraser froze. He had forgotten how good Stan's hearing had gotten living here. He wondered exactly how much of the conversation his partner had understood.

        Diefenbaker didn't wait for a second invitation, he cast the Mountie a look that said 'you-know-I'm-right-so just 'fess-up' then bounded for the bedroom.

        Fraser shook his head at the animal, quickly cleared away their dishes and headed in as well. Blowing out the hanging lamp in the living room, Fraser followed the glow of the lamp Stan had lit in the bedroom across the darkness that now engulfed the cabin.

        Stan was already in bed, his chest bare, sitting up reading a novel he had purchased in town.
Diefenbaker was beside him, his head in Stan's lap. Stan held the paperback in one hand and was petting Dief with the other.

         Often, late at night, Stan would offer one of his books to Fraser to read aloud, so they could both enjoy the story. Fraser suspected that would not be the case this night. He slowly stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt, he saved his long underwear for the colder weather. Despite the recent temperature drop, it was still mild to the Canadian. He folded his clothes neatly and set them in the chair by the closet. Stan's clothes were on the floor by the bed, where he usually left them until he got up in the morning.

        Fraser nudged Dief until the wolf adjusted his position enough for the Mountie to climb under the covers. He pulled off his watch and set it on the small lamp stand.

        "Want me to turn blow out the light?" Stan offered quietly, keeping his attention on the book in front of him.

        "No, I can sleep with it on, thank you anyway," Fraser returned. He could sleep with the lamp on, because Stan usually read for about an hour before actually going to sleep, unless he was really tired and went straight to sleep. "Good book?"

         Stan shrugged "Just started it, not bad so far I guess."

        Fraser bit his lip and finally rolled over on his back, turning his back to his partner. He hesitated to bring up their kiss or the entire conversation in general. He didn't want to anger Stan again. His father had once told him a partnership was like a marriage and it was remarkable how much like a married couple he and Stan seemed to know each other.

        Fraser knew that it took at least three cups of coffee for Stan to fully wake up in the morning, so the Mountie was always up and ready with a fresh pot brewing. He knew Stan rarely ate breakfast, but chose to eat a big lunch later in the day. They took turns with the cooking and the dishes.

        Fraser did the majority of the housework inside and Stan reciprocated by doing the more hearty chores outside. Stan was a slob, or so he claimed, and housework wasn't his bag. Fraser didn't mind this arrangement, because he liked things done in a certain way and put in their place.

        However, Stan was not outrageously messy, considering the way some men lived. He generally kept his things picked up. A stray shirt here or there tossed on the bed or over a chair, that he may have removed during the day and kept out to wear again later. Occasionally, he might leave his mug on the coffee table, but he usually put his dishes in the sink. They never ate or drank in the bedroom, so there was never any dishes in there.

        Stan's big thing was dusting, something Fraser was insistent about, so the Mountie took care of the dusting, windows and cleaning out the wood stove and small fireplace. He would do their laundry, since Stan didn't have a clue how to use the washboard and drain method

         Stan chopped and kept their woodpile fresh. He would shovel snow when it called for and was usually the one to take care of shoveling out the barn and keeping the animals fed and watered. Fraser did his share of that as well, but Stan enjoyed caring for the animals, so Fraser usually left him to it.

        He knew that on occasion Stan often mixed up their clothes and would wear Fraser's shirts, jackets or socks. Fraser didn't mind, it gave him a secret thrill to see his partner in his clothes, as decadent as that might sound. The only thing Stan never wore was the Mountie's uniform, other than his Stetson on occasion.

        He sighed and tried to clear his mind for sleep, but thoughts of Stan's kiss were keeping him awake. He had always been ardently aware of the blonde in the bed beside him when they slept, but even more so now. The heavenly scent of chocolate and peppermint that was uniquely Stan filled his nostrils and every movement of the mattress as Stan shifted or fidgeted beside him increased Fraser's awareness.

        Finally, after only a few minutes, but what seemed an eternity to the Mountie, Stan blew out the lamp and snuggled down under the covers. Fraser was surprised when his friend touched his shoulder.

        "Fraser, turn over."

        Fraser complied and found Stan also lying on his side, facing him. Fraser mimicked the position and met his friend's steady gaze.

        "I'm really sorry for...for losing my cool, earlier," Stan offered quietly.

        "I probably deserved it," Fraser returned. "I...I didn't mean to provoke you, Stan I..."

         "Fraser?"

         "Yes, Stan?"

         "Did...did you mean what you said about...about things going back to normal?"

         Fraser nodded. "Don't you want them to?"

         Stan considered that for a moment. He wished he could just forget about everything that had happened this week and go back to just being Fraser's partner and friend, but he was too far over that line now. He'd accepted the feelings he once feared and he didn't think he could go back to just looking at Fraser as a friend.

         "Sure," he lied rather than admit to the truth. Rather that risk loosing Fraser.

         Fraser watched his friend's fingers trace the pattern on the sheets and he reached out to place his  hand over Stan's. "Talk to me, Stan."

         "I am talkin', Frase," he muttered. "You're just not listening."

         Fraser lowered his eyes ashamed. He was listening, he was just afraid that this was all a passing thing and that in a few days, after things calmed down, Stan would not feel the same. Slowly, he scooted closer, nudging Dief to leave his position between them. He folded his fingers over Stan's and lay his head on the detective's pillow so their foreheads were close to touching.

         "I'm listening, Stan," he said softly and watched the hope and uncertainty spring forth in his partner's eyes. "Talk to me now and I'll hear you. Give me a second chance, please?"

        Stan shivered and lowered his eyes.

        Fraser frowned. "Are you cold, Stan?"

        "No, not cold just..." Stan bit his lip and was surprised when Fraser reached up to caress his cheek.

        "Scared?"

        Stan shook his head. "No, not really. Maybe a little, yah." He took a deep breath. Fraser said he was listening now, so Stan had to try. "Fraser, I know this stuff is hard for you," he stated gently. " It's really hard for me too and every...every little thing you say, or rather don't say seems to make it harder."

        Fraser lowered his eyes, contritely.

        "But, that's okay, I just want to make sure we're on the same wavelength..." Stan continued quickly. "I have to know if...if I'm reading things right or if I'm goin' crazy, so let me ask you a question and all ya have to do is nod yes or no."

        Fraser agreed, curiously.

        "Do you find me attractive?"

        Fraser's lips twitched at the familiar question, and he offered a blessing for his friend for selecting the one question that the Mountie could willingly answer and would still tell Stan everything that needed to be said.

        "Oh yes," he breathed, relieved. "Very much so."

        Stan captured Fraser's face between his palms. "I find you....I do too," he amended, also not quite comfortable with the words. "I have to know, Fraser, do you find me...attractive enough to...to do something about it or am I on my own in this?"

        Instead of answering, Fraser moved forward and touched his lips to Stan's in a shy kiss. He started to pull away again, almost immediately, but Stan shook his head pulled him into his arms.

        "Not this time," he whispered pressing his lips to Fraser's once more. "No more running, Fraser. Please stay with me on this."

        Fraser's blood turned to liquid fire and started rushing through his veins, making his head and body throb in awareness. He didn't move a muscle, afraid to break the spell, afraid he would repulse Stan in some way, but his partner just pulled him closer and hugged him hard. He could tell by close proximity that Stan was also affected by their kiss.

        "I...but you..." Fraser stammered as Stan released is hold enough for Fraser to meet his gaze and gather his breath. "I thought you only liked...wo...women Stan?"

        "I like who I like," Stan shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me, Fraser. I never thought of being with a guy until yesterday, but apparently I'm cool with it." He winked. "I'll try anything once."

        "T...twice if you like it," Fraser croaked, appalled that his control had slipped so completely from just that brief moment in Stan's arms. "W...What do we do now?" He blushed. "I...I mean I've never...I don't want to...to do anything..."

        "We'll play it by ear, Fraser," Stan assured, pulling him close again. He licked Fraser's ear, sending a shiver of desire through the Mountie. "Your ear, my tongue, my ear your..."

        His words were swallowed by Fraser's mouth claiming his, passionately. Stan released a soft moan and returned the kiss eagerly. He couldn't believe he was lying here, kissing another man-and enjoying it, but whatever butters your muffin, right?

        Stan's whole body went rigid and he started to shake, but still he did not push Fraser away. Fraser slid his tongue suggestively across his partner's lips and was pleasantly surprised when the other man's lips parted to give him access. Fraser had intended to go slowly. He had not wanted to scare his friend any further, but at this open invitation, he found his control slipping.

        Fraser moaned and tasted the sugar sweetness that was Stan's definitive flavor. Cotton candy and chocolate that's what Ray tasted like, and for once Fraser couldn't get enough of the sweet flavor. He devoured Ray's mouth like he had been dreaming to do for months, sucked, nipped, caressed and plundered and Stan seemed to keep up the pace Fraser had set.

        "Stan!" Fraser groaned into his partner's mouth and pulled the blonde closer against him.

        Stan's arms went around Fraser, awkwardly at first, then with a firm declaration that this was what he wanted. Finally they broke apart and stared at each other-shocked at their own reactions.

        "What...what...?" Stan couldn't even manage a coherent sentence. "Why'd you stop?"

        "Stan." Fraser murmured huskily, touching his forehead to his friend's. "I want you, but I won't force you. This has to be right for both of us or it doesn't happen. You have to be sure. I...I don't think I could stand it if this was just a...a passing thing between us."

        Stan stared at him and wet his lips, probably not realizing how much that small action turned Fraser on.

        "I...I don't know, Fraser," he admitted, honestly. "I don't think it is, I...what I feel seems pretty...solid but I...this is kinda new to me still."

        "It's new to me as well," Fraser admitted. "Tell me what you want, Stan?"

        "I...I want...I want..." Stan stared at him pleading.

         He couldn't say it, couldn't bring himself to ask, not yet. He lowered his head frustrated, his hair falling across his face like a soft blanket of gold; hiding his distress.

        "This?" Fraser supplied, raising his friend's gaze with a finger under his chin, and gently touching his lips to Stan's again causing the American to sigh almost in relief.

        "Yah," he admitted against Fraser's mouth. "This...this is good...this is...mmmm."

        Stan gave into Fraser's exploration and the talented tongue inside his mouth. All thought that it was his best friend-another man- that was kissing him flew from his mind. The need for air caused them to break apart again. Stan was shaking, his whole body was surged with fear and excitement. It was a feeling he had had many times before when chasing a suspect, or being shot at, but never just being held like this.

        "Do you want to stop, Stan?" Fraser suggested, giving his friend the option, as he nibbled at Stan's sensitive neck.

        Stan didn't know what he wanted-in reality. He didn't want Fraser to stop kissing him, it felt wonderful, but he knew kissing might lead to something he perhaps wasn't ready for-not yet anyway. Fraser was giving him the out he needed.

         Still, he couldn't stop trembling. The gentle caress of Fraser's lips and sweet breath on his skin simply caused him to shiver more and he was shocked at his own state of arousal
.
        "Do you...do you want to...Fraser?" Stan finally managed as Fraser kissed his collarbone. "To...to stop I mean?"

        Fraser rose to meet his gaze.

        "I want whatever you want, Stan," he implied, gently.

        Stan stared at the desire clouding the usually clear cerulean eyes of his partner.

        "No," he refused and emphasized the fact by boldly reaching down to fondle the Mountie through his shorts. "I want this, Fraser, with you."

        Fraser's eyes widened in surprise and desire, even as he shamelessly pressed against his partner's hand.

        "Oh, Stan," he murmured and suddenly rolled over so his body was stretched out over Stan's. He hungrily claimed his partner's mouth again, grinding their hips together in a frantic, animalistic rhythm.

        Stan moaned and ran his fingers through Fraser's hair, because he had always wanted to mess up the Mountie's perfect hair. His victory was short lived however as his need increased and Fraser started licking his way down Stan's naked torso.

        "Mmmm...oh Christ! Fraser!" he whimpered, appalled at how wanton and husky his voice sounded to his own ears.  "What are you doing to me?"

         Fraser's eyes danced merrily as he moved lower still.

        "If you have to ask, Stan, please allow me to demonstrate," he taunted as he pulled down his friend's boxers and swallowed the blonde's swelling erection.

        "Oh God!" Stan writhed beneath him, in shock and desire. He giggled, headily and covered his surprise with his usual wit. "Sh...shouldn't put that in y...your mouth, Ben- ya don't know w...where it's been."

        Fraser paused and Stan thought the Mountie took him seriously.

        Stan met his partner's intent gaze. "What's wrong?"

        "Say it again," Fraser pleaded and Stan stared at him confused.

        "Say what again?"

        "My name."

        Stan smiled. "Sure, Ben," he whispered and was delighted when Fraser again returned to his cock. "Ben, Benton, my buddy Ben."

        "Oh Stan," Fraser moaned around his friend's cock and felt Stan stiffen.

        "Ah...Ben...wait buddy I think..."

        Fraser ignored him and increased his suction and his pace.

        Stan was almost panting as he lifted his hips to meet Fraser's talented mouth. "Oh God! Oh my God...yes.....Mmmmm, just...wait....there..." Stan thought he might pass out from the incredible orgasm that rocked him.

        Fraser swallowed, smiled and settled climbed back up next to him.

        "What you won't put in your mouth, ya freak," Stan teased when he could talk again.

        Fraser smiled and kissed him. It seemed so easy now that they knew.

        "Stan?"

        "I'm gonna start callin' you Hoover," Stan commented and Fraser smiled again.

        "Stan?"

        "Yah?"

        Fraser stalled over the words and Stan smiled into his eyes.

         "I love you too, Ben," he whispered gently and pulled Fraser in for another kiss. "Now lets get you taken care off."
 

 the end?
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