What I Do	 What I Do

 by Gina

  

 Author's Website: http://jonesie.tvheaven.com

 Disclaimer: due South and its characters do not belong to me, but I can
dream, right?

 Author's Notes: This is my first dS fic. Please be kind. :)

 Story Notes: 

 

 

 What I Do
 By Gina 

 Undercover's my gig, you know? Need a player? You got me. That's how I
work. That's who I am. Nobody, or anybody. Whichever you prefer. That's
why I took the job at the 2-7. It was time for a change. I was ready. And,
besides, it sounded like a great chance to lose myself for a while. 

 Just cover for the cop turned fed, they said. Hell, I'd still be a cop,
so that wasn't gonna be hard. I thought it was a bit strange when they
said I was supposed to be Italian but, hey, they know what they were
doing, so I went with it. Don't worry, I told my mum, I'll still eat
paczki and pierogies whenever the opportunity came along. 

 I settled into Vecchio's, I mean my desk with ease. Strange looks from
the other detectives, I could handle. I was used to it. Hell, even when I
wasn't undercover I got the stares and frowns. What's new? Welsh had
warned me about my 'partner' and had said he'd take care of it. When he
walked into the precinct, though, I was stunned. He moved with such
authority, such tenacity, and I knew that my simple assignment had just
gone up in flames. 

 The Mountie, that is Frase, and I, got along great from the beginning.
After his initial shock at the new situation, we settled into a rhythm,
and worked together like we had known each other our whole lives. We began
hanging out after work, too. First, because he and his Ray used to do
that. Then, because we had such a great time together. And now it's been
almost two years. 

 I told you, undercover is what I do, who I am. It allows me to keep some
distance between the others. The one's that want to know the real
Kowalski, the real Ray. I have to keep reminding myself that I can't show
myself. I'm not real. The real Ray is living it up somewhere in Las Vegas.
Except now I am the real Ray. At least according to Fraser. 

 I asked him about that a while back. We had been on a stakeout all day
and into the evening. When our relief had finally gotten there, I
suggested pizza and Big Red agreed. Returning to my apartment, we had
gorged ourselves, the three of us including Dief, and Frase and I were
sitting back on the sofa, trying to regain the energy to move. I looked
over at the peaceful expression on his face and the thought that had been
bugging me all day just flew from my mouth. I asked him what would happen
to me when Ray Vecchio came back. 

 He looked at me strangely, as if I had just spoken fluent Inuit or
something. I remember laughing nervously, a deep sad laugh that I know
didn't fool him. His eyes told me he knew better. That, and his frown. I
wanted to crawl right inside the couch we were sitting on. I had allowed
my fears and my weakness to show and I was going to pay for it. 

 He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and took a deep breath.
Without looking at me he asked me what I thought would happen. Damned if I
knew how to answer him. I mean I knew what I wanted to happen, but it
wouldn't. I wanted him to stick with me; to be my friend. I wanted him to
get to know Stanley Raymond Kowalski. Not just the tiny glimpses that I
let seep through the cracks every once in a while. I wanted him to feel
for me just a small amount of the feelings I held in my heart for Benton
Fraser. 

 My brain, fried that it may be, screamed a different story. It cried out
for me to run, to hide all my feelings so that I wouldn't get hurt again.
Yes, again. See? That's the thing. On the inside I'm a poet. Yeah, I know
you've heard that before. But what you haven't heard are the tormented
sonnets and epics of loves, and friendships lost. 

 Oh, of course there was the monumental crash and burn that is called
Stella. Everyone knows about her. It was the one huge part of my past that
I couldn't hide during this stint as Vecchio. She wormed her way into this
web of deceit much to my annoyance, and I was forced to allow the
surrounding players to catch that glimpse of the real Ray. 

 There were others. My best friend in high school, David. He died in a car
crash the night before graduation. I wasn't in the car, but I wish I had
been. Then there was my first partner on the street, Carla. Damned hyped
up junkie shot her before she could even pull her own weapon. Even Mum and
Dad left me for sunny Arizona. Stella was the only one that got me through
those rough times, except for the folks. That time I was on my own. 

 When Stella pulled away I had nothing, and no one. After pitying myself I
bucked up and saw my life for what it was. Nobody I loved was ever going
to stick around. Either they died, or they...just left me. So I had to
take control. And the easiest way was to not let anyone in. And the
easiest way to do that was to hide myself, even if that meant hiding me,
from me. 

 So, I go undercover. It's what I do. It is who I am. No harm, no foul. No
hurt feelings, and no tears. 

 But that night, in my apartment, on the couch, the tears showed
themselves. I looked back at Fraser and saw his eyes glistening. He wasn't
all-out crying, really, but I could tell I had hurt him deeply. I leaned
forward on the couch, unconsciously mimicking his pose, and tried to
speak, to tell him what I thought. 

 I was going to lie to him and to tell him it didn't matter. That it was
all a game, a play that we were acting out the past two years. I planned
on telling him that I knew he would return to Vecchio and that I would go
on to my next assignment. When I opened my mouth, though, all that came
out was a gravely sort of grunt. I couldn't lie. 

 I was clearing my throat again when he finally raised his eyes to meet
mine. He told me he thought we would remain best friends, or possibly even
more. And then he blushed, probably realizing that, while wearing the red
uniform, he had just admitted something that was decidedly
un-Mountie-like. He stammered and I even think I heard a muttered "Oh,
dear," from between his lips, but I'm not sure. I was still reeling from
his confession. 

 My head was warring with my heart and I was stuck in the middle. I guess
my silence must have felt like a refusal, to him. All I know is that the
next thing I saw was Fraser standing and heading for the door. I knew
enough not to let him leave and rushed after him, grabbing his arm and
turning him to face me. His eyes tore through me and I knew, then, that I
was truly lost. Such ended that night the friendship I had with Benton
Fraser. 

 Ben, as I call him now that we have become partners in the truest sense
of the word, and I have been together for a couple of months now. Ben
moved in with me a few weeks ago, and he's even got me writing in this
damned journal, like he does. All the time he's catching more and more
glimpses of the real Ray; the Ray Kowalski that I never meant to show
anyone, ever again. 

 That, I'm afraid, is why I have to do this. That is why I left this
latest diary out for you to find, my dear Ben. I know you will find that
you are at fault somehow, and will blame yourself for my leaving. It isn't
you. I love you so much that it hurts inside. I don't know what I'd do if
you left me, willing or unwilling. So I have to take back control. I have
to lose myself again. 

 I do undercover. It's what I do. It's who I am. 

 Benton Fraser, Liaison for the Canadian Consulate, friend to Ray Vecchio,
and lover to Ray Kowalski, his real Ray, closed the leather bound book and
quietly wept. 

End