More Than You Know	  More Than You Know

 by Beth H

  

 Author's Website: 

 Disclaimer: You still need to ask? They belong to Alliance and the Pauls.
Unfortunately.

 Author's Notes: Thanks to AuKestrel for the fastest beta in the West. Or
East. Any quirks that remain in the story are the result of my own
willfulness.

 Story Notes: Spoilers? BDtH, Asylum, and CotW - or something like that
anyway.

 

 

 More Than You Know
 by Beth H  

 It felt like one of those rare, perfect fall mornings Ray Kowalski could
still remember with almost perfect clarity from his childhood. Sun just
rising into a cloudless morning sky that was already so blue and bright
that it almost hurt to look at it for more than a moment. Ground lightly
carpeted by the first of the red-orange-yellow leaves to fall from the
surrounding maple trees. Crisp, clean air with just the faintest scent of
woodsmoke beneath...and an even fainter scent below which hinted at the
promise of snow. 

 Ray sat on one of the thick fallen branches that he and Fraser had hauled
back to their makeshift campsite the afternoon before and squinted into
the fire he'd started earlier that morning, listening carefully for the
first telltale sounds of water boiling in the tin kettle he'd hung on the
metal hook that was suspended over the flames. 

 After five years of living on the southern edge of the Northwest
Territories, Ray had come to love the land almost as much as Fraser did
himself, but he still clung tenaciously to some of the familiar comforts
of the urban world in which he'd spent most of his life... and starting
the day off with a cup of strong, sweet coffee was one of those things he
didn't think he'd ever learn - or want - to do without. 

 Diefenbaker, who had already made two early morning exploratory circuits
of the area - tent to campfire to woods to lakeshore and back again -
loped up the rocky incline from the water's edge and laid his wet muzzle
on Ray's jeans-clad thigh. 

 "Hey!" Ray said, taking the wolf's muzzle off his leg and lifting Dief's
face up until man and wolf were nose to nose. "I thought we already
discussed this...no soaking my clothes with fishy-smelling lake water!" 

 In reply, Diefenbaker offered only a wolfish grin and lapped his rough
tongue over Ray's face. 

 "Eww! And that's another thing we've talked about...no face licking!" Ray
wiped his face dry with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. "Geez, you
developing that short term memory loss thing?" 

 Then he grinned as he watched the wholly unrepentant wolf trot back down
to the lakeside. 

 "No harassing the turtles!" Ray called after him. 

 Laughing a little to himself, Ray turned his attention back to the
now-bubbling kettle and began to fix two cups of coffee, even though
Fraser had yet to surface for the day. As if on cue, Ray heard the sound
of the tent's front flap being unzipped. 

 "You know, Ray," said Fraser as he crawled slowly out of the tent,
"Diefenbaker is no less deaf today than he was on the day you first met
him." 

 "So you say," Ray answered, grinning over his shoulder at his
sleep-tousled partner. "Personally, I'm not at all convinced." 

 Fraser's answering grin was immediately erased by a jaw-splitting yawn.
"God," he said, kneading his bare lower back, then lifting his arms as
high above his head as they could go and stretching in an effort to begin
working some of the kinks out of his body. "I have no right to still be
this tired." 

 "Right, schmight...just admit I wore you out last night, and we'll be
fine." 

 "You did not 'wear me out,' as you put it," Fraser huffed a little
indignantly, then smiled over at Ray. "Perhaps I've just adopted your
charming habit of wallowing in the morning." 

 Ray watched as his partner - jeans still unbuttoned and shirtless -
continued to stretch himself awake, and he thought, not for the first
time, that he could be happy just looking at this man for the rest of his
life. A few more lines around his eyes, more than a few extra streaks of
grey in his silky dark hair, and yet all Ray could think was how beautiful
Fraser was...and how lucky they were to have found each other. God, you're
a sap, Kowalski, he thought, chuckling to himself a little. 

 "What's so funny?" asked Fraser. 

 "Nothing. Just thinking. Hey, you want some coffee?" Ray asked, turning
back toward the fire and taking one of the steaming mugs in his hand. 

 Fraser walked over to join Ray at the campfire and laid his hands on his
partner's shoulders "To be truthful," said Fraser softly, leaning over and
sliding his hands down Ray's chest, "All I want is you." 

 Ray closed his eyes and turned his head until his cheek was resting
against Fraser's soft, smooth skin. Ray darted his tongue out and licked
Fraser's belly, letting the tin cup slide from his fingers to the ground
below. 

 Fraser had just brushed a kiss on the top of Ray's head when the
all-too-recognizably snippy sound of a howling wolf came from the
direction of the lake. 

 "Perhaps Diefenbaker disapproves of public displays of affection," Fraser
said against Ray's hair, and laughed. 

 "Nah," Ray said, eyes still closed. "Wolf's just jealous. Hey, Dief!," he
called. "Get your own boyfriend and quit being such a nosy parker." 

 Diefenbaker's answering howl....  

 Ray woke with a start as the distant sounds of an arctic wolf chorus
pierced through his dream. 

 "Jesus Christ! What the hell was that?" 

 "I'm sorry, Ray," Fraser said, kneeling down in the cramped tent and
helping Ray extricate himself from the RCMP-issue double sleeping bag in
which both men had spent the night. "Did my return startle you? It is
rather cold this morning and the arctic winds can be...." 

 "No...no...I'm good. I think it was Dief and his buddies that woke me. Or
maybe the smell of...coffee? God, Fraser...where'd you get that?" he
asked, staring at the insulated mug Fraser held in his hand. 

 "Ah," Fraser said with an almost-smug grin, passing the mug to his
friend. "It would appear that Constable Maxwell had just purchased a small
supply of coffee moments before the detachment was called out, and he has
been...persuaded...to share the wealth, as it were." 

 "Persuaded, huh?" Ray said. "Is that Canadian for pinned to the ground
and tortured until he gave up the goods?" 

 "Something like that," Fraser allowed with a laugh, and sat down at the
far end of the sleeping bag. 

 "You been up long?" asked Ray, while Fraser removed his parka and lit the
small lamp that the two men had been given the previous night. 

 "Long enough to have contacted Ottawa," Fraser replied, the smile leaving
his face. 

 Ray frowned as he noted the hard set of Fraser's jaw. "Everything okay?
Muldoon...?" 

 "Muldoon has been safely transferred and is in custody awaiting trial."
Fraser said tersely. 

 Ray waited to see if his partner was going to add anything, then he said
quietly, "But it's not enough, is it?" 

 Fraser looked away, over at the flickering shadows being cast by the lamp
against the wall of the tent. "No," he said in a voice little more than a
whisper. "It's not enough." 

 A long minute passed, then Ray sighed. "Yeah, I get that. Hey, Fraser,"
he said, placing the mug down beside the sleeping bag. "Turn around." 

 "What?" 

 "Just turn around." Ray waited until his confused-looking partner had
turned in the opposite direction, then he crawled down the length of the
sleeping bag and placed his hands on Fraser's back. "Tight as a drum,
man," he said. "Let's see what we can do about this." 

 "Ray?" 

 "Just go with it, Fraser," Ray said, as he began to massage some of the
knots out of his partner's shoulders. Fraser lowered his head, and within
a few minutes, Ray could feel some of the tension in Fraser's back begin
to disappear. 

 "So," Ray said slowly, pushing his fingertips hard along the edges of
Fraser's spine. "What happens now?" 

 "Now?" Fraser asked, his voice slightly muffled. "I suppose now we wait
for the trial to begin and...." 

 "No, not that," Ray said, rubbing his thumbs up and down on the back of
Fraser's neck. "What happens with us?" 

 "Ah. Understood. Well, I suppose we...." Fraser paused and swallowed
hard. "I don't know, Ray." 

 Ray closed his eyes, his hands stilled on Fraser's neck. "You're...you're
not coming back to Chicago, are you?" 

 Fraser lifted his head slightly. "I haven't received any official word
about my new assignment, but it's possible that.... No. Ray, I just can't.
Can you understand that?" Fraser asked in a quiet, rough voice. When Ray
didn't answer immediately, all the tension that had been temporarily eased
by the massage tightened the muscles across Fraser's back again as he
continued, "I'm so sorry, Ray. I just don't know what I can...." 

 "Hey, Frase. It's okay. I get it. I do." Ray ran his right hand up the
length of Fraser's neck and began to comb his fingers through Fraser's
hair. "But...we've been good partners, haven't we?" 

 "Yes, Ray, the best. And good friends. And...." Fraser stopped. 

 "So, you know, maybe I'm not in any hurry to get back to Chicago,
either." 

 Fraser's head jerked up. "Where do you....?" 

 "I had the weirdest dream last night, Frase. Can't remember much of it,
but I think you and me were on some sort of adventure. I thought maybe we
were looking for the Hand of Franklin, but...there aren't any maple trees
up where he disappeared, are there?" 

 "No, Ray," Fraser replied, cautiously allowing his head to rest against
Ray's warm hands. "Franklin's party was well above the tree line." 

 "Yeah, that's what I thought. Anyway, I'm thinking maybe that dream was a
sign or something. Like, maybe we're meant to go off on a
adventure...together, you know?" 

 "Together?" asked Fraser hesitantly. 

 "Yeah...um...if you'll have me." 

 "Oh, Ray!" Fraser said, turning around to face his partner. "Of course I
will." 

 "So," Ray said, a huge smile beginning to bloom on his face. "We good
then?" 

 "We're good, Ray," he said, an answering smile appearing on his own face.
"We're good. Better than good. In fact, I'd say we were...." 

 "Fraser?" 

 "Yes, Ray?" 

 "Shut up and kiss me!" 

 Fraser's eyes widened in shock, but only for a moment. Then Fraser
laughed out loud as he scrambled to his knees, knocking over the lamp in
the process....  

 The sound of a lamp crashing to the floor jerked Ray out of his dream and
almost off the edge of his bed...his bed?...no, not his bed. Where the
hell was he? Why was he shaking and...he.... 

 "Ray? Are you all right?" 

 Fraser's voice? What the hell was Fraser doing here...on the floor? Ray
fumbled a little anxiously for his glasses, and when he found them, he
looked over the side of his bed - no, it was not his bed...it was a
cot?...Fraser's cot? - to see his partner sitting up on a bedroll and
looking at him with concern. 

 "Are you all right, Ray?" 

 Fraser's cot. The Canadian Consulate. Ray slapped his palm a few times
against the side of his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. 

 "Ray?" 

 "Yeah, yeah...I'm good, Fraser." Okay...the Volpe shooting. Running to
the Consulate and to...yeah, it was all coming back to him. "I'm good.
Just a weird dream, you know? Sorry about the lamp." 

 "Don't worry about the lamp, Ray. It seems to have survived the fall
intact." 

 Fraser got up from the floor, replaced the lamp on the small table, and
went to pour a glass of water from the pitcher he'd left sitting on his
desk before the two men had turned in for the night. He waited as Ray sat
up, peeled off his sweat-drenched t-shirt, and wiped himself dry with it,
then Fraser handed him the glass. 

 "Thanks, Frase," Ray said, his hand trembling a bit as he took the water.
"Sorry I freaked out on you like that." 

 "Perfectly understandable, Ray. I imagine that the events of yesterday
have left you rather on edge." 

 "Oh, yeah...on edge," Ray said. He took a drink. "It's just...I just keep
hearing those gunshots, you know? Can' t get them out of my head." 

 Fraser put the water pitcher back on the desk, then went back to Ray and
sat next to him on the edge of the cot. "Is that what you were dreaming
about, Ray? Gunshots?" 

 Ray thought for a moment. "No. And I sure as hell wasn't dreaming about
Andreas Volpe. I'm not sure what I was dreaming about. Maybe Alaska. Maybe
some forest somewhere. Don't know. Snow. Trees. Lots of freaky things."
Ray rubbed his bare arms with his hands. "I think you were in the dream,
too." 

 "Ah." Fraser said, raising an eyebrow. "I take it I would be one of those
'freaky things?'" 

 Ray stared at Fraser, his face set hard. "That was not what I meant,
Fraser. I didn't mean that I thought you...I mean, I know I've called you
a...." He shrugged his shoulders. "That wasn't what I meant." 

 "No, I'm sorry, Ray. I know you didn't mean anything by that." Fraser
turned toward Ray and sighed. "That was just a small attempt at humor on
my part which was obviously misplaced." 

 "Very small, Fraser," said Ray sharply, still rubbing his arms. 

 "Understood, Ray." 

 Fraser continued to watch his partner's face closely until finally Ray
cracked a tiny smile. 

 "So, was that Canadian humor, Fraser?" 

 "Most likely, as I am Canadian," answered Fraser, smiling back at Ray. 

 "You are? Really?" 

 "So I've been informed, although I know the news must come as quite a
surprise to you." 

 "Freak," said Ray, starting to laugh. 

 The two men sat together for a moment in the dark office, then Fraser
turned to his friend and said, "You know, I think it's time that you tried
to get some sleep. I'm certain this will all look better in the morning." 

 "Yeah, you're probably right." Ray dropped his sweaty t-shirt over the
edge of the bed. However, he made no move to get back under the covers,
despite the fact that he was shivering. 

 "Ray." 

 "Yeah?" 

 "You appear to be...well, you look rather cold. Would you like me to get
you something to sleep in? One of my shirts, perhaps? 

 Fraser started to rise from the cot to find something warm for his
friend, but was held back by the slightly shaky touch of Ray's hand on his
arm. "Nah, don't bother...not tonight. It's not that cold. Maybe tomorrow,
huh? I'll need something to wear then, if that's okay." 

 Ray lay back down and put his head on the pillow, not releasing his
partner's arm from his grasp. A minute passed before Ray noticed he was
still holding Fraser's arm. "God. Sorry, Fraser." he said, staring down at
his own hand as if it were something he'd never seen before. "Guess I'd
better let you go, huh?" 

 When another minute passed by and Ray still hadn't released his hold,
Fraser said, rather hesitantly, "Ray...would you prefer...would you mind
if I just stayed here with you tonight?" 

 Ray looked back at Fraser, searching his face for...something. Then he
rolled over on his side, facing away from his partner and said, "Knock
yourself out. It's your...it's your bed, Fraser." 

 Fraser lay down carefully and stiffly at the edge of his cot, seeming for
all the world as if he was poised to flee if he were given half a chance.
But before he could even consider acting on this impulse, Ray scooted
backwards against his partner's warm body, and Fraser's arm moved
automatically to cover his still-shivering friend. 

 "Frase?" said Ray softly. 

 "Yes, Ray?" 

 "Thanks." 

 "Sleep well, Ray. Pleasant dreams."  

 The maddeningly shrill sound of the new alarm clock shocked Detective
Raymond Kowalski, a.k.a. Ray Vecchio, awake - and into a mad scramble over
the pillows he'd been nestled against as he slept. "Where the hell is that
thing?" Ray muttered as he fumbled for the clock and his glasses, which
had disappeared along with the alarm clock sometime during the night. 

 After two minutes of frantic crawling around on his bed, Ray finally
found the clock under the blankets - down by the foot of the bed. He
slapped at the top of the alarm and the piercing noise came to an
immediate halt. 

 "God." Ray flopped back down on the bed and took a deep breath. "I hate
getting up in the morning." 

 He finally untangled himself from the covers and stumbled to the shower,
then wrapped a towel around his waist and went into the kitchen to see if
the timer on the coffee maker had worked for once. Oh yeah, there it
was...thank you, caffeine gods! 

 By the time Ray had dressed, fed his turtle, checked out the box scores
at the back of the sports section in the Chicago Tribune, and finished his
first two cups of coffee, he was beginning to feel almost normal...except
for some lingering weirdness from the dream he'd had during the night. 

 "That was seriously freaky," Ray's turtle, Curtis, stared back at him,
unblinking, from his rock. "Talking wolves. No, really. Jumping out of
planes? A nuclear submarine? Geez, what was I smoking last night? And that
guy in...the blue flannel shirt?...the red pajamas?...whatever. He was
pretty cool...or hot...well, pretty something, anyway. Wonder where I
dreamed him up from?" He shook his head and laughed at himself a little.
"I don't know...I seem to have a more interesting life when I'm sleeping
than I do when I'm awake." 

 Six hours later, Ray had all but forgotten his dream or that he had been
wishing just that morning for a more interesting life. His new assignment,
undercover at the 2-7, was...well, if not really interesting, at least it
was keeping him busy, and that would have to be enough for the time being.


 Ray sighed and leaned over Vecchio's...his desk and took a look at the
arrest report that Elaine had just returned to him for a signature. 

 From somewhere behind him, he heard a voice call "Ray!" and turned
around. 

 God! 

 He couldn't stop the huge smile that he knew had just taken over his
face. 

 It was...um...he couldn't quite remember. It was that guy from his...from
where? *Where'd* he seen this guy before? Come on, Ray! 

 Then he remembered: it was the guy from the Vecchio file. The Mountie. 

 Ray threw his arms wide open. "Fraser! Buddy!"  

 The...beginning 

End