Don't Look Back     Don't Look Back

 by Alison

  

 Author's Website: http://uk.geocities.com/asylum_girluk/utopia.htm

 Disclaimer: 

 Author's Notes: 

 Story Notes: 

 

 

 The hotel room's kinda small for the three of us, but once Dief figures
that he has to take the floor and leave the bed, things work out pretty
well. 

 Fraser's looking better now he's out of the hospital, but he's too thin
and he's got something about him; a tiredness that's never been there
before. When I look at him, I don't see Super Mountie; I see a tired, worn
down man who's seen too much hate and has been through too much grief. You
can only stretch so far, so many times. And when you can't stretch any
more, you suddenly discover that you can't bounce back either, and you're
just left, empty and lost. 

 He's lying on the bed, half asleep, while I make a call to my Lieutenant,
just letting him know where I am, and that I'll be taking more vacation
time. 

 "So when do you think you'll be able to drag your sorry ass back here?"
he says, and I can feel my fist clench against my thigh. This kid sucks,
always has. People used to think I had an attitude, but that was before
this asshole came along. 

 "Dunno," I answer. "Another couple of weeks, I guess. I've got another
three weeks of vacation due, so I may just take it all." 

 "When will you be back in Chicago, at least?" he says, and I shrug,
before I remember that he can't see me. 

 "Dunno that either. When Fraser's ready we'll move on, but we'll go where
he wants. I'll keep in touch." 

 And I put the phone down. I've got more important things on my mind than
whether or not my Lieutenant is pissed at me. He usually is. 

 "Is everything okay, Ray?" Fraser says to me, real soft, and I turn
around on the bed so that I can see him. 

 "Sure," I answer. "I was just telling the Lieutenant not to expect me
back any time soon." 

 "I don't want you to get into trouble on my account," he says, but his
hand reaches out and rests on my thigh. He needs the contact now; it's
like he needs an anchor to keep him here. 

 I put my own hand out and cover his, looking down so that I don't have to
meet his eyes. 

 "Don't wanna be anywhere else," I say. "I've waited a long time for this,
and I'm not gonna walk away." 

 "You deserve better," he whispers, and I shake my head. 

 "No, I don't." 

 I shift so that I'm sitting with my back against the headboard. I'm still
holding his hand, so he has to come with me or risk having his shoulder
dislocated. He ends up half lying on my thigh, and for the second, that's
enough. 

 "Frase," I say, real soft. "I don't want anybody else. From the second I
turned around in that squad room and saw you, I couldn't think about
anybody else. I tried to get you out of my mind, god knows I tried, but I
never could. In the end, it all came back to you." 

 "I'm tired, Ray," he says, and I feel his breath warm against my leg.
"I'm not the same person I was." 

 "And I am?" I ask. "You said in the hospital that I'd changed. And I know
you're tired, I can see it." Real gentle, I put my hand on his hair and
begin to twist it between my fingers. I've always loved his hair. It's a
bit thinner now, and I can see grey strands threading through it, but it's
still like fucking silk. Girl's hair. Girl's eyes and girl's hair, and the
rest of him so far away from feminine that I used to wonder whether nature
got distracted halfway through making him. 

 "I don't think I can face going back to Chicago," he says. "I'd like to
stay up here for a little while." 

 "Then we'll stay here," I answer, without thinking. "I've told you, I'm
not going anywhere without you, not now." 

 "But your job..." he begins, and I tug on his hair, just a little bit,
just enough to make him stop. 

 "Fuck the job," I say. "You're more important than any job." 

 We stay there for a while, until his breathing starts to lengthen, and I
realise he's gone to sleep, but I don't move. I just stay where I am,
playing with his hair.	

 By the time he wakes up I can hardly move. My back has seized up from
being in the same position for hours, but like the sappy fucking jerk I
am, I don't care, because Fraser looks rested, more like his old self, and
that's worth just about anything. 

 "Hi," he says, sitting up. One side of his face is red and creased from
where it's been resting against my jeans, and his hair's kinda mussy. He
looks real; human. 

 "Hi," I answer. "You okay?" 

 "Better," he says, after thinking for a second. "I'm sorry for going to
sleep." 

 "Nah," I wave my hand at him. "You needed the rest. Nobody can sleep in
hospitals." 

 He rubs a hand over his face, then glances out of the window. It's
getting dark out there, and it looks cold and mean. I shiver, but not `cos
I'm cold, and he pulls himself up until he's sitting next to me. I lean
into that warmth and he smiles, not speaking. 

 "I think I need to take Dief out," he says softly. "Would you rather stay
here?" 

 "No, I'll come," I say. "I'm hungry anyway. We need to eat before the
town shuts up for the night."
 "Let's go, then." He kinda presses against me, and then moves away,
climbing off the bed. He goes into the bathroom and I find my jacket,
waiting by the door until he comes out. 

 Finding somewhere for Dief to eat isn't a problem. The town isn't exactly
packed with restaurants, but we find a real nice cosy place down a side
street, where Fraser is greeted like a long lost son and Dief is fussed
over until he looks like he's going to die from all the adoration. As
usual, when I'm with Fraser, I get the full treatment, too, and it's not
long before we're sitting down, hardly able to see each other over the
mound of food in front of us. 

 "Well, tuck in," says Fraser and proceeds to push his food around his
plate. 

 "Frase, you have to eat," I say, real quiet. "You're way too thin." 

 "Pot, kettle and black come to mind," he snaps, and I blink, putting my
fork down and trying to make him look at me, but he keeps his eyes fixed
on his plate. 

 "I'm sorry, Ray," he says softly. "I didn't mean to bite like that.
Perhaps I'm more tired than I realise." 

 Hmm. I let it go, but I'm not in any rush to speak again, so I watch him
pretend to eat and wonder what's wrong. 

 "Constable, I just heard you're out of hospital." A woman stops by the
table and crouches down, one hand on Fraser's arm. I feel my face trying
to scowl, and tell it to stop. 

 "Constable," he replies, real formal, and I relax a bit inside. This
should be okay. 

 She looks at me and half smiles, and I stick out my hand, which she
takes, looking back at Fraser, waiting for him to make the introductions,
but he's gone off into a world of his own. 

 "I'm Tracy Westerman," she says. "RCMP." 

 "Ray Kowalski," I answer. "CPD." 

 "So * you're * Ray," she says softly, looking at me properly. "I've heard
a lot about you." 

 "Good I hope," I say, and then cringe inside. Lucky for me, she doesn't
answer. 

 "I've just got back from Whitehorse," she says, turning back to Fraser.
"I was hoping to see you before you go, to say how sorry I am about what
happened." 

 I see Fraser shut up shop, watch as the blinds come down, and I can't
stop a sigh. Tracy glares at me, but that's just tough. I'm used to
Canadian females glaring at me. It's one of my things. 

 "Thank you," he says politely. 

 "So what are you going to do next?" she asks, looking around for a chair
to pull up. I pretty obviously shift until I'm taking up at least two
thirds of the table, and she looks at me like I should be under the
nearest stone. I give her back the same. 

 "We haven't decided yet," I say, before Fraser has time to answer.
"Fraser needs time to heal before he makes any big decisions." I stop and
look over her shoulder. "Oh, it looks as if your food's ready." 

 "I haven't ordered any food yet," she says, confused, looking over her
shoulder as well. 

 "Yeah, you did," I answer. "And it's ready now." 

 She gets it this time, and turns to me, shaking her head slightly. 

 "I'm not a threat, Ray," she says softly. "I'm a friend." 

 "And a friend would know when to leave." I turn back to Fraser, ignoring
the look she's giving me again. With a muttered `goodbye', she leaves us
alone. 

 "Ray," Fraser says softly. "That wasn't very nice." 

 "Well, I'm not very nice," I retort. "I don't want people bugging us,
Frase. I've had enough of people, and I'm damn sure you have." 

 He shrugs, and there's a tiny nod, like he doesn't really want to admit
it, and he looks so fucking lonely that I can't help reaching out and
touching his hand. 

 "I won't let them hurt you, Frase," I say. "I'm here and I'll take care
of you." I pause, and then say the one thing that's still on my mind. "I
won't ever leave you." 

 "Good." 

 "Okay." 

 "Right." 

 "Good."  

 Late that night, he's lying in my arms, giving off so much heat that I'm
seriously thinking of getting out of bed and opening a window, when he
suddenly speaks, scaring me half to death. 

 "So what are we going to do, Ray? Where are we going?" 

 "That's a kinda deep question, don'tcha think? I don't know where we're
going," I answer, trying to make him laugh, and I'm rewarded by the
faintest whisper of sound. 

 "You know that I didn't mean it like that," he says. "Where are we going
from here? That's what I meant." 

 "I know, Benton buddy, I know." I pause, and tighten my arms around his
shoulder. "Same answer." 

 "I can't take Chicago yet," he says. "I don't know if I'll ever be able
to take Chicago again. There are so many memories there now..." he tails
off and sighs. I nudge him a bit. 

 "What?" I ask. "You didn't finish that did you? What else is there?" 

 "Is it cowardly of me to try and avoid seeing the Vecchios?" he asks,
real quiet. 

 "Frase, they don't hate you, you know that," I start, but he interrupts,
lifting one of his hands and resting it on my stomach. 

 "I know. But Ray, I hate myself." 

 I can't think of anything to say then, or at least nothing that'll
comfort him. This hurt seems to go so deep with him, and he's locked it in
a place I can't reach. 

 "Do you remember, Ray, that my father's cabin was razed to the ground?"
he asks me quietly, and I nod, before I realise that he can't see me. It
doesn't seem to matter to him though, because he just keeps on speaking.
"Well, when Sergeant Frobisher died, there was a sentence in his will
bequeathing his cabin to Diefenbaker, who has kindly said that if I ever
need a bolt hole from the world, I can use it." 

 "Buck Frobisher left the cabin to Dief?" I ask, not sure if I heard
right. 

 "Yes, I know it sounds a little strange, but he was under the illusion
that Dief is more than simply a wild animal." 

 "Wonder where he got that idea," I say innocently. 

 "I have no idea," he answers, and I almost believe him. 

 "And you need the bolt hole, right?" I ask, feeling his head move as he
nods. "Do you want me there with you?" 

 "Very much," he says. "But it's quite remote; you'd have to rely on me to
get you there and get you back safely. Would you trust your safety to me?"


 I can't believe he's asking. I slide down on the bed until we're sharing
the same air. 

 "I've trusted you since day one," I say. "You think that I'd let just
anybody do all that stuff to me?" 

 He smiles at me and reaches up, putting his hand on the side of my face. 

 "We did do some strange things, didn't we?" he asks. "But we had a good
time." 

 "Better times to come, Frase," I answer, rubbing my face against his
hand. "just wait and see."  

 "It's not much, but it's home," he says, a bit too heartily, dropping the
bags in the middle of the floor. 

 "You ain't lying," I answer without thinking, and then I look at him and
smile. What it is, is a room. One big room, with a huge fireplace at one
end. There's a couple of chairs and a well scrubbed table with four chairs
around it. A stove which I reckon is going to be more than a bit of a
challenge to use, and a bed. That's it for furniture. 

 "When the fire's lit and the bed's made up, it's really quite cosy and
homely," he says, coming to stand next to me, and I nod, not speaking. I
can't. I feel so fucking sappy, so - full - that I don't want to say
anything. Whatever I say will ruin this, I know it will. I'll trip over my
tongue and sound like some complete jerk, and whatever's building here
will be lost. 

 "Ray..." he whispers, and I feel his fingers, feather-light, on the back
of my neck. I push into the touch without thinking, then turn towards him,
putting one of my hands on his chest, trying to feel his heart through the
layers of clothes he's wearing. I look into his face, and he smiles at me
with his eyes. 

 "Girl's eyes," I say, and then bite my tongue at his expression. 

 "What?" he asks, and I shake my head. Maybe I'll tell him one day, but
not now, not here. 

 "We've been waiting a long time," he says, when he realises that I'm not
going to say anything. He moves his hand until it's cupping the back of my
neck and then he starts to pull me towards him. I can either resist the
pull, which would be stupid, because I don't want to, or I can do - this. 

 I step towards him, into his space, until we're practically nose to nose,
and then I kiss him. Simple, really. 

 He gives a kind of sigh, and then both his arms go around me and I'm
pulled against him. I get my arms around him too, and rest my hands on his
hips. He tastes - of himself. Of home. Of something I never knew I was
missing. 

 He pulls away and puts both hands around my neck, his thumbs stroking
along my jaw. He looks at me out of those eyes of his, and now I realise
they're not girl's eyes, not really; they're his. Part of what makes him
who he is, what he is. 

 "What?" I ask, sliding one of my hands around until it's resting on his
chest, holding him away. "What's wrong?" 

 "Oh god, nothing," he says. "I just can't believe it's taken us so long
to get here, to this place. I'm sorry for all the time we've lost." 

 "So'm I," I answer, moving my hand again so that I can touch that silky
hair. "But we're here now, you an' me, right?" 

 "Right," he says, and moves in for another kiss. It's more demanding this
time, and when I feel his tongue in my mouth, it triggers something in me,
and I hear myself groan, and I try to push even closer, even though
there's no space for air between us. 

 He moves his hands from my neck, sliding them down my back until he's
cupping my ass and I groan again, beginning to rub against him. I raise
one of my legs, wrapping it around the back of his calf, trying to get as
much contact as I can. 

 He pulls away from the kiss and begins to trail his tongue down my neck,
and I drop my head back, my eyes closing so that I don't miss any of the
feeling. I can feel his cock hard against my hip, and I grind myself
against him until he pulls away, gasping my name. 

 I open my eyes, and suddenly I see it. Six years ago, I wondered what he
would look like when he was horny and mussed, and now I know. He looks
like all the good things that have ever happened in my life rolled into
one perfect package. "Ray, stop," he says. "I want this to be right, I
want to be able to take our time." 

 "Benton Buddy, believe me that this won't take a second," I reply. "After
that, things can be as slow as you like." 

 I'm still moving against him, watching him real close, and when he bites
his bottom lip, I laugh. 

 "Don't," he says. "Please don't." 

 "You don't wanna come?" I ask, feeling him hard and desperate. "You don't
want me to make you come?" 

 "Oh yes," he says, and I can almost hear the pleading in his voice. "But
not this way." 

 I stop moving, and he closes his eyes in relief, then leans forward and
kisses me again before he moves away to the fireplace to do his Mountie
stuff and light it with a single glare. Or something. 

 I reach down and do some readjusting before I start singing soprano, and
then get on with finding homes for the groceries we've brought with us.
Dief looks at the unmade bed, then at me, then at Fraser, and huffs his
way to the fireplace. 

 By the time I've got the groceries put away and the bed made, the fire
and the stove are both blazing and Fraser's chopping and cutting and
slicing things which I think are called vegetables. Whatever. Sensible
guy's already made the coffee, so I sit at the table and watch him move.
He knows I'm watching, because he keeps kinda half smiling, but he won't
look at me. 

 He's still way too thin, but he's looking better. Some of the tiredness
has faded from his face, and he looks less - worn down, I guess. 

 And then it hits me. I can't take that away from him. I can't make him
give this up and come back to the city with me, because the city will
start to kill him again, and I can't let that happen. He's right, some of
the rough edges have gone from me, because I know that I would rather stay
up here in the tundra with him than put him through the misery of Chicago.
Jesus, we've got some tough thinking to do. 

 But not tonight. Tonight I'm gonna make him feel so good that he
remembers what it's like to be alive, what it's like to feel. And Vecchio,
the hospital, all his bad memories, will be forgotten, even if it's just
for a little while.  

 The bed's plenty big enough for us, and it's warm and soft. I let him
take control, at least to begin with - after all, we don't know each other
like this, we have to learn what turns each other on. 

 He pushes me down into the mattress, covering me with his body, and
suddenly it's like he's developed eight hands, stroking me and squeezing
me. He kisses me hard, his tongue licking everywhere in my mouth, and all
I can do is reach down and cup his ass, pulling him close against my cock.
I part my legs under him and wrap them around his thighs, urging him
closer. 

 When he finally lets go my mouth, I reach up and touch my lips. They feel
real tender and swollen; haven't felt like that in a long time. He begins
to bite my neck, working his way down to my chest, and all the time he
keeps up this weird monologue. 

 "Ray, oh god Ray, you're perfect, so perfect. You can make me forget,
forget everything..." 

 I want to say something to him, tell him that yes, I'll make him forget,
but he slides even lower and suddenly my cock is in his mouth, and I'm
just about on the ceiling. 

 "Oh, Jesus! Fraser, Fraser..." My brain short circuits completely and I
can hear myself moaning and panting, gasping out his name. This is it.
This is what I wanted all these years. 

 He releases my cock and he slides back up my body, kissing me, and I
reach between us, holding us together, fitting into the groove like we
were born for each other. 

 He pushes himself up on his hands so that we can see each other, and I
feel myself grinning like a maniac at him. He does the same, and for one
timeless, perfect moment, everything else vanishes. The cabin, the fire,
the wind rising outside. And more than that, the memories of Vecchio, of
six wasted years, of everything I should have said to him and never did. 

 Then his eyes close, and I feel his whole body quiver against mine as he
comes over my hand and belly. I don't want to miss the way he looks, and I
stop moving my hand, trying to hold myself back. He collapses against me,
his face buried in my neck, breathing real hard, and I slide my free hand
around him, resting it on his ass. 

 "Oh god, Ray," he mutters, then slides his hand between us, resting it
over mine. He begins to move, and he raises his head until he's looking at
me. He doesn't speak, but he reaches down and kisses me real slow. I push
up into his/our hand, and I can feel myself losing it, coming so hard that
I can't even breathe. Jesus.  

 We spend a week at the cabin, and slowly I start to see my Fraser come
back. He loves this place, and I know he doesn't want to leave it. During
the day, he tries to teach me how to trap and hunt, but I can't do it.
Sure, I like to eat animals, but I don't want to see them in their furry,
dead state. After a couple of days he doesn't ask me to set traps, and
instead he leaves the repairs of the cabin to me. I've always been good
with my hands, and I like to fix things, so we settle into a kinda
routine. 

 But the nights - Jesus, the nights. Learning what he tastes like, what he
likes to do and have done to him. Seeing him losing it, hot and needy
begging me to let him come. 

 When I let him fuck me, I didn't know what to expect; I knew it was going
to hurt, but what I didn't know was that once I'd gotten through the pain
it was going to be so incredible. To be with another person like that -
fucking incredible.  

 I'm lying in front of the fire, watching the flames. Fraser's half lying
on me, half on the rug we've spread in front of the hearth. I like the
feel of him against me, naked and defenceless. When he's like this, he's
not Super Mountie, or anything special, he's just a guy. A guy I've fallen
for so fucking hard that I can't imagine that I could even breathe if he
wasn't with me. 

 I roll over until I'm on my back and look up at him. 

 "Hi," I say. 

 "Hi," he answers, lowering his head and kissing my belly. I feel myself
shiver at the touch, and he smiles against my skin. 

 I reach down and rest one of my hands in his hair. Not girl's hair; just
a part of what makes up the whole. 

 "This is kinda nice, huh?" I say in the understatement of the the decade,
maybe the century. 

 He realises it's a fucking stupid remark because he doesn't answer, just
pulls away from my hand, working his way towards my cock, which is already
rising to the occasion. 

 "Horny fucking teenager," I mutter, but it ends on a gasp as I feel his
tongue lick slowly up my whole length. I can't stop my hips lifting up to
meet him, knees spreading wide. He smiles again and shifts position until
he's kneeling between my legs, then takes my cock into his mouth. 

 I love this. I love the feeling of his hot mouth around me, and the way
his tongue licks me, searching out my taste. And when he does - that - I
lose it every time. His finger sliding between my butt cheeks, working its
way inside me. The only thing better than his finger is his cock, and I
pull away from him, flipping over onto my stomach, not speaking. Don't
need to. 

 His body over mine is warm and strong, and when he cries out my name I
want to cry from happiness. I'm not going to lose this, not when I've only
just found it.	

 "Ray?" he says a little later, pulling me out of my stupor. 

 "Hmm?" 

 "The snow will be coming soon. You have to make your decision." 

 "What decision?" I ask, still not really listening. 

 "Whether to stay with me or go back to Chicago." 

 That wakes me up and I sigh, pulling away from him. The fire's burned low
now, and the cabin feels cold. It's real dark outside; we don't have
clocks here, but I've learned enough to realise that we're in that weird
non-time in the dead of night. It's probably about 4am. 

 "Frase," I say, real quiet, "I don't wanna lose this. Shit, I'm * not
*gonna lose it, no fucking way, but just what is there to do up here for a
Chicago cop with an attitude problem?" 

 "Be my pillar," he answers. "Give me all your strength so that I can get
up every day and function. Give me something to come home to." 

 He doesn't say it, but I hear it: //Give me something to live for//. 

 "I gotta think," I say, getting up and looking for my clothes, shivering
a bit in the cold night air. I look over at him, and he looks so sad
again, that I reach down and kiss him as hard as I can. "It's not you," I
say, trying to reassure him. "It's me. Gotta decide if I can live here." 

 Beckoning to Dief, I step outside the cabin and catch my breath. It's so
cold everything starts to go numb immediately, but it's fucking beautiful,
the sky so clear that it's like a living thing sparkling above my head. 

 I kneel and pull Dief's fur, getting a face full of wolf tongue in
return. 

 "So whaddya think, Dief?" I ask. "I got two choices; I go back to
Chicago, back to the job and an empty apartment and a shit load of
memories, or I stay here, with him and with you, and I risk it all." 

 Dief whines and looks back to where Fraser's standing, framed against the
door, and then back at me. He doesn't understand what the problem is; as
far as he's concerned there isn't a choice to make. 

 And he's right, I know he is. I pull on his fur again and bury my face in
that thick pelt of his. 

 "I guess so," I mutter. "But god it's big up here, and it could be so
fucking lonely." 

 //But it won't be lonely, will it, fuckhead? Because you'll be with the
one person you need. If you go back to Chicago, then you'll be lonely,
don't matter how many people you have around you.// 

 Dief pulls away, but I stay where I am, kneeling on the cold ground. I
know what I'm going to do, sure, but how will he react? What if he's
waiting for me to go? 

 I hear footsteps and look up as he comes towards me. Reaching down, he
pulls me to my feet, and brushes me down. 

 "Well?" he says, and his voice cracks, just a little bit, and I realise
that he's as nervous as I am. Jesus, what a pair. 

 "I don't wanna go back without you, Frase," I say. "But I know that you
don't wanna go back at all, so I guess we both stay here. At least for a
while. Is that okay?" 

 His whole body kinda sags, and after a second I realise that it's relief,
and for the second time I get that stupid, sappy feeling in my throat, and
I start to laugh. And I can't stop. It's relief and release and everything
in between. After a second he joins in, and we stand there, freezing cold,
in the ass end of nowhere laughing like a pair of idiots. 

 "Come in out of the cold," he says when he finally calms down, and I nod,
following him back into the warmth of the cabin. 

 Just before I go in, I look up. The moon's real clear; I can smell snow.
If I don't go back in the next week or so, I won't be going anywhere until
spring. 

 "Ray?" Fraser's voice pulls me into the cabin and I close the door
against the cold and the dark, and I can't help but smile at the sight of
him bustling around the cabin, building up the fire, putting water on to
boil. 

 Guess I can wait until the spring. 

End