BYGONES Part Three	    BYGONES Part Three

 by Grey

  

 Author's website: http://www.e-fic.com/~grey/

 Disclaimer: 

 Author's Notes: 

 Story Notes: 

 This story is a sequel to: BYGONES Part Two 

 

 BYGONES Part Three
 By Grey 

 Ray sat on the exam table wearing a flimsy paper gown with an even
thinner paper sheet across his lap. He still wore his socks, but he
shivered involuntarily from the cold. He hated waiting, hated sitting
there tired and not quite able to focus. 

 Dr. Barnes came into the room, holding his chart, his face looking
anything but happy. "Well, Mr. Kowalski, Ray, what have you been up to?" 

 "Puking mostly." 

 "I can see that. Did the Phenergan help?" 

 "Yeah. Lucky you gave Fraser that sample." 

 Barnes shrugged. "Unfortunately, this particular antibiotic, while
effective against resistant infection, can sometimes have unpleasant side
effects like the ones you've experienced. The sample was a precaution.
I'll write you a prescription. You should use the Phenergan an hour before
you take your antibiotic. That should cut down on the nausea and
vomiting." 

 "You expect me to use one of those things every day?" 

 "Actually, it'll be three times a day, once before each dose of
antibiotic. It should also help you rest more." 

 "Look, can't you give me a pill instead?" 

 "I can, but to be honest, the suppositories are often more effective." 

 "I still want the pill." 

 "Fine. It's up to you, but I warn you, that if the vomiting continues,
you'll need to use the alternative." 

 Ray ignored the threat and complained, "This stuff makes me really
sleepy." 

 "But you're not nauseous or vomiting now, right?" 

 "Right." 

 "So, take the medication. Your white blood cell count is down and that's
good, but it's not completely normal yet and you're still running a low
grade fever. You need to finish this round of the antibiotics." 

 Ray refrained from saying fuck you, but just barely. 

 "You also need to drink more. Try increasing your fluids with juices or a
sport's drink." Barnes stopped and put the file on the counter. "And
you've lost another two pounds since your release. That's twelve pounds
all together in the last three weeks. You need to either eat more or start
using the supplement I suggested, at least until you get your strength
back." 

 "That the stuff I drank in the hospital that tasted like chalk?" 

 "They've got other flavors, but I do believe chalk is the preferred
flavor in most hospitals, yes." 

 Ray had to check to see the faint grin on Barnes's face to realize the
guy finally slipped a joke in like he might be human after all. "Funny." 

 "Seriously, Ray. Get the chocolate or whatever flavor you can tolerate.
You can't afford to lose more weight, not when your body's supposed to be
healing." 

 "I'll try." 

 Nodding, Barnes pulled out latex gloves from the box near the table.
"Good, now let's take a look at those wounds." He pulled open the back of
Ray's gown, exposing the shoulder bandage. He peeled back the covering and
threw it away before pushed around the edges of the injury. "Keep using
the antibiotic cream on this, but leave the bandage off unless it gets
irritated." He closed the gown again and then moved to the front. He
pulled back the sheet and spread Ray's thighs. Removing the bandage, he
frowned. Carefully, he examined the raised, red area by pushing down. Ray
hissed. 

 "Sorry. Still sore?" 

 "You could say that, yeah." 

 "Any pain when you walk or move around?" 

 "Not much." 

 "Define not much." 

 "Just some twinges if I move the wrong way or go too fast. Like I said,
not much, not as bad as it was." 

 Nodding, Barnes used a swab to rub down the area and reapplied antibiotic
before putting on a fresh bandage. "This one needs more tending. Keep it
covered and I'll check it in a few days." 

 "Sure." 

 Barnes used his stethoscope and listened to Ray's heart and lungs,
nodding. "Good. Your lungs are clear, heartbeat strong and regular." 

 "We done?" 

 "Not quite. Lie back." 

 "What for?" 

 Trying to be patient, Dr. Barnes dropped the gloves in his bio-waste bin
and washed his hands. "I want to examine the rest of you. Now, please, lie
back and relax." 

 Ray did lie down, but he couldn't relax, not with Barnes's hands checking
out the rest of the lacerations and his throat in particular. Then he used
the stethoscope to listen to Ray's belly, his face even more solemn. "How
are your bowels?" 

 "Fine." 

 "When was the last movement?" 

 "Jeez, Doc, I don't know." 

 "You don't know?" 

 "A few days ago in the hospital, I guess." Ray squeezed his eyes shut, so
not wanting to think about that. 

 "Any pain or bleeding?" 

 "I was a little sore, yeah, but no bleeding." 

 "Good, but I'll give you a stool softener to take with you. It should
help." 

 "I don't need that." 

 "You need it. Take it. Now, roll over. Let me check your back." 

 Fuming, Ray turned over, resting his head on his right arm, his left arm
by his side. Hands touched and studied every scar and bruise. "Looks good.
Now, on your side." 

 KY Jelly appeared and more gloves came out of the box. Ray froze. "What's
that for?" 

 "I need to do a rectal. Just relax." 

 Instead of relaxing, Ray sat up quickly, swinging his legs over the side
of the table. "No." 

 "Ray..." 

 "I said no. I can say no. I got rights." He swallowed hard, remembering
the painful exams from the hospital. He forced his voice to stay steady.
"Look, I'm good, I'm fine, no need to do that." 

 Barnes studied him for a moment an then took a deep breath. "I know this
is difficult. I know it's not pleasant, but it's necessary. I need to be
sure the tears are healed." 

 "I told you I'm not bleeding." 

 "I know what you told me. I still need to check. I can sedate you if you
want." 

 "I'm sedated enough. I just don't need it." 

 "You don't really have a choice." 

 "So, we got one of those stalemate things going here, huh?" 

 "Not if I get your partner in here." 

 Ray gulped, the defeat like lead in his stomach. "That's not playing
fair." 

 "I do what I have to as a doctor, Ray, just like you do as police
officer. Now, please, lie down on your side. I'll be as careful as I can
be." 

 Which, as it turned out, still hurt like hell. When it was over, Barnes
wiped him off and then dropped his gloves in the bin. "You can sit up now.
It looks better." 

 Carefully, Ray eased himself back to a sitting position, refusing to let
the pain show. "Told ya." 

 "Still had to check. You'd be surprised at the number of patients who
aren't always truthful with their physicians." Barnes crossed his arms,
leaning back on the counter. "How's the pain in the arm?" 

 "Better." 

 "Still taking the Percocet that Dr. Raines prescribed?" 

 Ray didn't look up. "Yeah." 

 "I'd like you to reduce the dosage or go to Tylenol or ibuprofen
instead." 

 "Dr. Raines thinks I should have the Percocet, at least until the cast
comes off." 

 "I just don't want you to be over-medicated, Ray. Taking it with the
Phenergan could be a problem." 

 Rubbing his face, Ray sighed. "Okay, okay. I guess I can cut back. The
arm doesn't hurt that much anymore. They just help me sleep more than
anything." 

 "Having trouble sleeping?" 

 "Some." 

 "How much is some?" 

 "Off and on. I have bad dreams sometimes." 

 "That's understandable. Have you seen a counselor yet?" 

 "I have to see one before I can go back to work, but not yet, no." 

 "Why not?" 

 "Been busy." 

 "Look, Ray..." 

 Holding up a hand, face red, Ray cautioned. "Don't say it. I know. I know
I should see someone about this and I will. Just get off my back about it,
okay? I'm tired of everyone ragging my ass." The words came out hard and
rushed. 

 "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like I was ragging your ass." 

 Hearing the words coming back his way, Ray shook his head. "No, I'm
sorry. I'm just not ready to talk about this, not to you or anyone else. I
still hurt." 

 "And you will for some time." Barnes paused. "Are you still determined to
go to Canada?" 

 "Yeah. First thing next week if I heal up enough." 

 "You plan to stay long?" 

 "Two weeks. I have to be back to get the cast off and start PT." 

 Barnes nodded, considering the words carefully. "All right then, if
you're going to go, I'll get a file ready. You can either carry it or get
me a fax number for the hospital in Yellowknife." 

 "You don't have to do that." 

 "It's just a precaution." Barnes uncrossed his arms, but still leaned
back against the counter. "You're doing remarkably well, but you're far
from healthy yet. I just don't want you to end up in another country and
not have the information available to let the doctors know your history if
something should happen." 

 "Okay, sure. I guess it's a good idea." 

 "Good. Now, get dressed. I'm going to write out the new prescriptions and
instructions. I'll leave them at the check-out. Make a new appointment
with the nurse. I want you back in here with more lab work in 48 hours." 

 "I just gave." 

 "And you'll give more until I'm satisfied this infection and anemia are
completely cleared up. Any questions?" 

 "You ever consider I might be anemic because you keep taking blood?" 

 Barnes smiled, shaking his head as he headed out the door. "I'll see you
in a couple of days, Ray." 

 Getting off the table, Ray reached for his clothes, but sat down quickly
on a nearby stool as the dizziness hit him again. Lowering his head, he
waited for it to pass and then carefully dressed himself. He prayed he
could get out the door and home without Fraser having to carry him over
his shoulder like a useless sack of nothing, like the hollow ache he
lugged around in his gut most of the time now.	

 "What's that?" 

 Fraser lifted his head after he put the carton into the shopping cart.
"Dr. Barnes said he wanted you to start drinking at least two of these a
day. They're more economical if we buy a bulk unit." 

 "It's a waste of money. I'm not drinking that shit." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Put it back." 

 "No." 

 "No?" 

 "No." Fraser stepped closer, his voice a bit lower, but firm. "You want
to leave for Canada on time, then you follow the doctor's orders to the
letter. Otherwise the trip might be cancelled until spring." 

 "That's blackmail." 

 "I wouldn't have to resort to extortion if you weren't so stubborn." 

 "Look who's talking. Your middle name's pig-headed." 

 "I do believe we're back to the kettle-pot metaphor, Ray." 

 Ray shut his eyes and shook his head, too tired to keep dealing with an
obstinate Mountie in the middle of a drugstore. "Okay, okay, you win." 

 "Thank you kindly." 

 As Ray proceeded to push the cart, Fraser added Gatorade and a pound of
decaf to their cart. Ray reached in and put the coffee back on the shelf.
"Forget about it." 

 "You're not sleeping well. Reducing your caffeine intake only seems
prudent." 

 "Then I'll cut back on coffee after dinner. I'm not giving up real
coffee." 

 Reluctantly, Fraser gave in. He studied Ray a moment. "You look tired.
Perhaps I should pay for this and then come back for the prescriptions
later." 

 "We're already here. No need to make an extra trip." 

 "I just don't want you to tax your strength." 

 "I'm leaning on the cart here like a little old lady, Fraser. I think I
can handle walking around a little bit." 

 "It's just that you sometimes tend to ignore your physical limits." 

 Ray sighed and didn't look up. "You worry too much. Just stop it. I'm
doing a lot better. Barnes said so." Fraser didn't answer, but his jaw
clenched as he tugged at his ear. "What? You don't think I'm better?" 

 "Well, yes, Ray, you're improving, but you still need proper care and
tending to fully recover." 

 "But I don't need to treated like some kid, Fraser. I can make my own
decisions about what I will and will not do." 

 Fraser straightened, his tone suddenly more icy. "You think I'm treating
you like a child?" 

 "I didn't say that." 

 "But you implied it." 

 "Well, yeah, maybe, but I didn't mean it to hurt your feelings. I just
need to do what I need to do." 

 "Which means what, exactly?" 

 Ray stood up and held out his hand, anger swarming through his head.
"Give me the keys." 

 "What?" 

 "I said give me the damn keys. I'll wait in the car." 

 "Ray, it's cold outside." 

 "Not as cold as Canada." 

 "Well, no, but..." 

 "So, give me the keys. It's better than me losing it right here in the
middle of the fucking store. I'll wait outside." 

 Fraser read his mood quickly and then nodded as he fished for the keys in
his pocket. "Very well. I'll be out shortly." 

 Without answering, Ray walked away, his head buzzing and full of shit he
wanted to do like kick down the wall or smash out a few windows. Outside,
he pulled up his collar against the cold wind and drizzle as he headed to
the car, the old Buick they'd borrowed from Frannie. He got in the
passenger's side and sat back, closing his eyes, working to calm down, to
pull back in before he exploded all over the place. 

 Ray absolutely hated the way Fraser took over, wanted to run things.
Problem was, he also loved that about him, too, how he didn't have to
worry about details, because Fraser knew how to do details better than
anybody in the whole fucking universe. Didn't make it any easier to deal
with when it came down to the personal boundaries though, down to the line
that he didn't want anybody, not even Fraser, to cross. 

 Swallowing hard, Ray thought about control, how he needed it now after so
long, to regain it, to master it, to know that he had some way to be the
one who called the shots in his own life. Sure, he could give in to Fraser
sometimes, wanted to, liked it because he knew Fraser needed to be in
charge, too. Still, there had to be limits, a point where he said what he
wanted or didn't want, what he would or would not do. Fraser had to
respect that, regardless of how banged up Ray was, no matter how fucked up
he ended up. Bottom line, he couldn't keep being pushed around, not unless
he wanted to end up like he did with Stella, unable to make up his own
mind about something as simple as being a boxer or even checking out dirty
magazines unless he did it on the sly. 

 Squeezing his eyes shut even harder, he fought down the rising anger, the
frustration. He worked to calm himself, to stop overreacting, leaping when
he should just stand still and keep breathing, not cut off his nose to
spite his fucking face. 

 He loved Fraser and Fraser loved him. Simple. He just needed to get some
perspective and breathe a little deeper before he blew his damn head off. 

 The knock on the glass startled him and turned to see Fraser motion for
him to unlock the doors. He flipped up the locks and sighed as Fraser
loaded the groceries, dreading the apology. As soon as Fraser opened the
door and got into the driver's seat, Ray cleared his throat and tried not
to mumble. "I'm sorry." 

 "About what?" 

 "About acting like a jerk." 

 Fraser turned in the seat, concerned, but not angry. "This has to be very
frustrating for you." Fraser reached out and brushed his cheek lightly.
"Sometimes I can be a bit overwhelming, but I do mean well, Ray. I love
you. I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to take over your life." 

 "I know that. I didn't mean to make it sound like I don't appreciate
everything you're doing." 

 "Still, you can't help but resent giving up some control in your life.
It's only natural. You haven't been able to do what you've wanted for
almost a month now. I would no doubt feel the same way were our positions
reversed." A small smile thinned his lips. "And I do believe that you'd be
just as zealous until I got better." 

 "Zealous, huh?" 

 "Oh, yes, Ray. I'm looking forward to your full recovery with great
anticipation. I'm doing everything I can to make that happen as quickly as
possible." 

 Ray's throat dried at the impact of the words. "I get that. You want me
well, I want to be well. I think we're on the same page here." 

 "We just need to agree on an interpretation of how to achieve that goal."


 "How about together?" 

 Fraser nodded, his face more relaxed. "Agreed. Now, I think we should go
home so you can eat and get some rest." 

 "I thought we were going to go get some clothes and gear for the trip." 

 "Perhaps later this evening." 

 "Compromise. I'll eat, take a nap like a good boy, and then we'll hit the
stores this afternoon." 

 "Done." 

 Ray nodded, a lot less fearful as Fraser started the engine and pulled
out into traffic.  

 Ray woke up and rubbed his eyes, surprised by the flickering light from
the TV. Fraser never watched television alone. Getting up slowly, he
steadied himself and walked into the living room to find Frannie sitting
next to Dief on the sofa, both woman and wolf intently watching THE YOUNG
AND THE RESTLESS. 

 "Hey, Frannie. Where's Fraser?" 

 "Hey, yourself, Bro." She put down the potato chips and stood up, shooing
Dief off the sofa and motioning for Ray to sit down. "He had to run some
errands." 

 Ray settled onto the couch while she went to the kitchen and brought him
back a small bottle of apple juice and a pill. "Fraser told me to give you
this as soon as you woke up." 

 Popping the medicine and swigging the juice, Ray drank about half before
putting it on the table. "What errands?" 

 Frannie shook her head. "He didn't say." 

 "He call you over to baby sit?" 

 "Of course not. I was going to come by anyway." Frannie didn't meet his
eyes as she got up and turned off the TV. She never did lie worth shit.
"How are you feeling?" 

 "Good. I'm good. You?" 

 Shaking her head, she crossed her arms. "You don't have to lie to make me
feel better, Ray." 

 "Lie about what?" 

 Again, she didn't look up, but leaned forward, her hands together. "You
know." 

 Fuck. "Frannie, listen, I don't know what to say." 

 "Say it hasn't been going on under my nose all the time I've been making
a big, fat fool of myself." 

 "It hasn't, and you're not a big, fat fool. Hey, who wouldn't throw
herself at a guy who looks like Fraser?" 

 Frannie shook her head, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "It's not just
about that. Sure, he's about the most gorgeous man on the planet, but it's
not about how he looks, never has been. He's a good man." She finally
raised her head and met his eyes. "You know I'm divorced, right?" 

 "Yeah. Same here." 

 "Oh, yeah, we all know about Mrs. High and Mighty, I'm Too Good to Be
Married to a Cop Stella." 

 Considering the situation, Ray gave her a pass on the bitchiness and
prompted, "What about your divorce?" 

 "It was ugly. I married him straight out of high school, because in my
family that's what you do. You find a guy, you marry him, and have a house
full of babies." 

 "So why didn't that happen?" 

 "Because he was a pig. He cheated on me with everybody." She paused as
she emphasized the last word. "I mean everybody, Ray, man or woman, it
didn't matter." 

 "I'm sorry." 

 Frannie waved a hand in dismissal as he continued her story. "Then I met
Fraser." She stopped, her eyes big, her words breathy. "He was so
beautiful that first time I saw him. Ray brought him home and I thought my
heart would just split open. I couldn't take my eyes off him." 

 "Or since." 

 "Like you've got room to talk. I'll bet you did the same thing with
Stella." 

 Grudgingly, Ray nodded. "Yeah, I did." 

 "Anyway, he was working with Ray a lot and I got to know him, how smart
and kind and just how good he is. He's not like any man I've ever met,
nothing like the men in my family." 

 "He's not like anybody else, Frannie. Fraser is Fraser, one of a kind." 

 "Yeah, he is. I just can't believe I missed something so important about
him. I mean, I never once had a clue he might be gay." 

 "He's not." 

 Frannie sat back and rolled her eyes, her words biting. "Call it whatever
you want, but he's still sleeping with you, so to me that's gay, okay?" 

 "And are you okay with that?" 

 "No." 

 Ray bit his lip, her pain almost like another knife to his throat. "He
never meant to hurt you. You know he really cares about you. We both do." 

 "I know. Doesn't make it hurt less." 

 "I'm sorry." 

 Frannie sighed and crossed her arms. "I always thought I was good about
spotting gays." 

 "Spotting gays? What's that, some kind of sport?" 

 "At my house, in my neighborhood, yeah." 

 That hurt, made Ray worry about what might be said about him and Fraser
when it all came out. "Your mom know about us?" 

 "Yeah. She hasn't said anything, but she's not stupid. After the
hospital, there's no way she couldn't know." 

 "What about the hospital?" 

 "What do you remember?" 

 Ray cleared his throat and then reached for the bottle of apple juice. He
finished it off and then worked to keep calm. "To be honest, I don't
remember much. Pain mostly. And Fraser." 

 "Yeah, Fraser. He was there almost the whole time. Wouldn't leave your
side. When you were in surgery for your arm, Ma and me, we showed up and
he was sitting in the waiting room, head down, crying." Her voice choked.
"I'd never seen him cry before, not even when he got shot in the back that
time. I don't know what he would've done if he'd lost you." 

 Ray blinked away his own tears, gut clenched at the thought of Fraser so
upset and so alone. "He's my partner, Frannie. Even guys cry when their
partners get hurt. That didn't necessarily mean we're gay." 

 "No, but I saw how Ma acted when Pop died and my friend Martha when her
Vinnie got sick. It was the same thing, the same pain. He loves you, Ray.
No way can I can compete with that. Hell, there's no way I'd want to. I
had my shot, but he wasn't interested. Seems he only has eyes for
criminals and partners." 

 Ray's head came up. "Partners?" 

 Frannie snorted, smiling for the first time. "Not partners like my
brother. Partners like you, you doofus." 

 "Just checkin'." 

 Smile faded, Frannie shook her head. "I don't know what the hell Ray's
going to say when he hears about this." 

 "He's not going to find out until he comes back." 

 "No, but he'll come back someday." 

 "How do you think he'll take it?" 

 "I love my brother..." 

 Shit. "But?" 

 "But he's not the most open-minded son of a bitch. He's not going to like
it and he's not shy about complaining about what he doesn't like." 

 "You saying that he'll hurt Fraser?" 

 "Knowing Ray, he'll shout and then think later." Before Ray could
protest, she raised a hand. "Don't worry. He loves Fraser like a brother.
He'll get over it, but it might take some time. You and Fraser, well,
you've just got to be patient. It's not easy to get used to the idea that
the guy you thought was one way turns out to be something completely
different." 

 "He's not that different, Frannie." 

 "Trust me on this, Ray. In my head and in my brother's head, he's
different. For the past three years I've thought about him in a certain
way, a way I will not talk about, and now I find out that he's that way
with you, and there's no way he'll ever be the way I thought he was." 

 "He's still your friend though. So am I, if you'll have me." 

 "Wouldn't be here if I held it against you." 

 "Thanks." Ray hesitated before he asked the next question. "Does Fraser
know that you know?" 

 "No, but I figure he will after you spill the coffee." 

 "It's the beans, Frannie." 

 "Beans, coffee, who cares? The point is, I don't want to tell him and I'm
not going to talk to him about it." Her face flushed. "It's just too
humiliating." 

 "You don't have to feel that way." 

 "Don't tell me how to feel, Ray. It's bad enough that I lost the best guy
in the world to the dope playing my brother. I don't need your pity on top
of it." 

 "Dope? Who you calling a dope?" 

 "If the pump fits." 

 Ray sat back and shook his head in amusement. "It's shoe." 

 "Shoe, pump, sandal. You're missing the point." 

 "Which is what?" 

 "That you're family." Ray couldn't speak, couldn't even swallow. "So, I
guess in a way, it's like Fraser's my brother-in-law." Her voice softened.
"And I want that to be okay. I need to be all right with that idea, but
it's going to take some time. Just give me some time to get used to it,
that's all." 

 "Sure." He stumbled over his thoughts, not really sure what to say, so he
kept it simple. "Thanks." 

 "For what?" 

 "For thinking of me as family." 

 "Well, considering yours sucks to high Heaven and you're risking your
skinny Polish ass to protect my brother's butt, it's the least I can do." 

 Ray couldn't argue, so he nodded as he leaned back and pinched the bridge
of his nose. "Did Fraser say when he'd be back?" 

 "Just that he'd be gone a couple of hours." She studied him with a frown.
"You don't look so good. You want something to eat?" 

 "No, I'm good." 

 Frannie didn't argue, but she wasn't convinced, either. She picked up the
bag of chips and held them out to Ray. "Here. Have one. We'll catch the
end of YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS or you can watch that stupid hockey stuff." 

 "Hockey's on? What channel?" 

 Turning on the set, Frannie switched it to the sports network. She handed
Ray the remote and went to the kitchen. "I'm having coffee. Want some?" 

 "Sure, I can do coffee." He watched the game with growing enthusiasm,
lost in the wild thwack of the puck and the call of the announcer. 

 Frannie handed him a cup of coffee and then sat down in the chair,
slipping Dief a couple of potato chips as she smirked at the game. "What
is this, thugs on ice? Look at those guys. What a bunch of bozos." 

 Instead of being annoyed, Ray gathered his strength and argued, smiling
and fussing, just like old times, glad he had a sister to mess with.  

 "Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Reese." 

 Reese stood up and motioned to a chair in front of his desk. "It's no
problem, Constable. As a courtesy to your government, we offer human
resources to all Canadian personnel in the city." 

 "Will it be confidential?" 

 "Yes. The only exception, of course, is if you threatened to harm
yourself or someone else." 

 "Of course. I understand." Fraser hesitated and then added, "I'd like to
keep this private. I'd rather not have my superior officer know I've
resorted to counseling." He didn't add how much Inspector Thatcher's
opinion mattered, how much he hated that it did. 

 "This isn't mandated, so there's no reason for people to know unless you
wish to tell them." 

 "Thank you." 

 Reese sat down, moved his seat closer to the desk, and then turned his
full attention on Fraser. "Now, before we begin, I must tell you that I
can't discuss anything that your partner shared with me during our
sessions. I hope that won't be a problem." 

 "No, I'm not really here about Ray. Well, that's not exactly true. I am
here because of Ray, but this isn't really about Ray, not as such." 

 "Excuse me?" 

 Fraser shifted uneasily in his chair and pulled at his collar. "One of
the reasons I wanted to speak with you was because you're already aware of
the situation with my partner." 

 "Yes?" 

 "And I suppose I was hoping that would make it less difficult to explain
why I'm here." 

 "Why are you here, Constable?" 

 "I'm not sure." 

 "Are you certain about that? You don't strike me as a man who would go to
the trouble of seeing a counselor if you didn't know why." 

 Fraser stood up and walked to the window, his hands clasped tightly
behind his back. No matter how many times he'd rehearsed in his head, his
tongue still stumbled over the words. "Are you aware that Clooney made a
tape of Ray's assault?" 

 "I didn't know that, no." 

 Blinking hard, his throat choked, Fraser struggled to speak. "I've been
an officer of the law for all of my adult life. I took a sacred oath to
defend the rights of all people, and for the most part, I'm good at my
job. Despite that, I couldn't protect the one person I care most about in
the world." 

 "How did that make you feel?" 

 "Impotent, angry, guilty, and incredibly sad." Fraser stopped and quickly
brushed away a tear before he regained the use of his voice. "I suppose
I'm here because I need to find a way to deal with all these intrusive
feelings." 

 "Have you told your partner about these feelings?" 

 "He needs to focus on his own recovery. In fact, I feel guilty blathering
on about this when he's the one who had to endure the actual ra..., that
is, the assault. However, though I've tried a variety of ways to contain
and channel these emotions and impulses, nothing seems to work for any
length of time." Fraser turned towards Reese, his eyes pleading. "I
suppose I'm here because I need your advice on how to deal with the
negative impact of my partner's brutal attack." 

 "You started to say something instead of assault, Constable. I think you
should say it. Your partner wasn't just assaulted." 

 Fraser closed his eyes, the grotesque images of Clooney hurting Ray
flooding his brain. It took him several long moments before he responded.
"He was raped. He still doesn't remember what happened, but I saw the
tape. In some ways I envy his lack of recollection." 

 Reese sat back in his chair, his face pinched and serious. "May I call
you Ben?" 

 "I prefer Fraser." 

 "Okay, Fraser, we need to talk about several things before I think I can
help you deal with this trauma." 

 "It's Ray's trauma." 

 "But it's yours as well. Tell me about your relationship with Ray." 

 "We're partners." 

 "At work, yes, but is it more than that?" 

 Fraser swallowed down his fear of exposure and said the words out loud.
"We're partners in every sense of the word." 

 "Intimate partners?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Rape and trauma don't just affect the survivor, but all the people who
care about him or her. In this case, you're the one closest to the
immediate fallout. Dealing with this won't be easy for either one of you."


 "It's harder for Ray." 

 "This isn't a contest." 

 "I didn't mean to suggest that it was." 

 "No, but you also don't seem to be able to accept that you have a valid
reason for the strong reaction you're having to what happened." 

 Fraser didn't respond right away. Instead, he settled in the chair across
from Reese, but didn't look up. "I'm very uncomfortable with strong
emotions." 

 "Why is that?" 

 "I suppose it's because I was always told that men weren't supposed cry
or show those kind of feelings. Regardless of whatever progressive
psychological research I've read that supports the opposing theory, that
early developmental model stays with me." 

 "Your parents told you not to cry or show emotion?" 

 "My mother was murdered when I was six. I rarely saw my father. I was
raised by my paternal grandparents. They came from the generation that
believed showing strong emotions meant a loss of self-control, the
ultimate sin for a Fraser." 

 "Your mother was murdered when you were just a child?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Is that why you became a member of the RCMP? 

 "My father was an officer as well. I came to Chicago on the trail of his
killers." 

 Reese sat up straighter and nodded with recognition. "I remember the
story now. He was killed by a fellow officer, a man you sent to prison."
The doctor paused and studied Fraser with a deeper regard. "I'm sorry.
That had to be difficult for you." 

 "That, I believe, would be a classic understatement." 

 "Do you have any family left?" 

 "I consider Ray to be family." 

 "I see." 

 Fraser almost smiled, remembering Ray's easy irritation at his own habit
of saying those words. "Ray and I have been best friends since we became
partners. It's only recently that we admitted to other aspects of our
relationship." 

 "You mean sex?" 

 "I was speaking of romantic love, but, yes, sex is a part of that." 

 "Do you consider yourself homosexual?" 

 Fraser shrugged, uneasy with the shift in the discussion. "I'm more
attracted to men than women, but I have had a relationship with a woman,
disastrous as that was." 

 "Why disastrous?" 

 "She was a criminal I sent to prison." Fraser stopped, not ready to
reveal the rest of that story. "It ended badly." 

 "In what way?" 

 "I'd rather not talk about that." 

 "Why not?" 

 "Because it's got nothing to do with my feelings for Ray. He's nothing
like Victoria or anyone else I've been with. He trusts and loves me and I
feel the same about him." 

 "Do you?" 

 Fraser's head came up. "I beg your pardon?" 

 "You say you love him, and I believe you, but do you really trust him?" 

 "Of course I do." 

 "Have you told him that you're here?" 

 Fraser flushed deeply. "No." 

 "Why not?" 

 "I suppose I didn't want to deal with his reaction." 

 "Which would be?" 

 "Negative." 

 "And?" 

 "He might also feel hurt, upset that I didn't trust him enough to share
my problems like I try to induce him to share his." 

 Reese tapped a pencil on his paper and nodded, satisfied with that
answer. "Trust is always one of the most difficult things to achieve in
any relationship." 

 "It's not Ray. He's the most trustworthy man I've ever met, well, at
least about most things." 

 "What does that mean, about most things?" 

 Fraser hesitated, not sure he could talk about Ray's struggle with
addictions. "It wouldn't be fair for me to say. Besides, this isn't about
Ray. This is about my own trust issues. I realize that. I don't always
trust myself, therefore I sometimes project that suspicion onto Ray." 

 "Does this mistrust lead to problems between the two of you?" 

 "I can't deny that our most heated arguments do tend to be about trust as
well as control." 

 "Control? Explain that." 

 Fraser sighed and stood up again, unable to think about the fear that he
might lose his partner, might fail to help him recover. "Ray is sometimes
his worst enemy, or seems to be. He's very resistant to following doctor's
orders. I want him to be healthy, so sometimes I do tend to overreact, to
take charge. He resents when I try to dominate him, which I confess, is a
valid complaint." 

 "Do you consider yourself domineering?" 

 "No, but I do like to control aspects of our lives that really aren't
mine to control. I understand the problem, but I don't seem to know what
to do to change it." Fraser stepped to the window, his eyes trained to the
outside, but his mind seeing a whole different picture, a flash of Ray's
bloody and battered body. He closed his eyes briefly as he rubbed his
forehead. "I'm afraid of losing him." 

 "Do you think that's a realistic fear?" 

 "In the beginning, yes. He almost died and he's been very ill since then.
Still, with proper treatment, he should recover. In some ways, I'm more
afraid now than I was then." 

 "Are you afraid of rejection?" 

 "I don't question his love." 

 "That's not what I asked. Are you afraid that he'll change his mind about
the relationship once he's physically healed and he won't be as dependent
on your care?" 

 "Ray told me that he most admired me because of my self-control, my
ability to seem calm when everything else is chaotic. He values that
greatly. I suppose my fear is that he'll see the truth about me and not
like what he sees." 

 "Because you don't like what you see?" 

 Fraser turned and met Reese's intent brown eyes, surprised at hearing the
words outside his head. "Exactly. My self-image never seems to correspond
to what others perceive." 

 "You think that if Ray sees you as you see yourself, he'll leave." 

 Nodding, Fraser once again found his seat, his chest tight. "I suppose
that's why I'm here. If I can't master my own fears and insecurities, how
can I possibly help Ray deal with his?" 

 "You realize that's a very tall order." 

 "Perhaps, but I want to try." 

 "That's the best way to start."  

 Ray squeezed his eyes shut, pulling up the blanket and working hard not
to wake up completely. Vaguely, he heard whispers and thank you kindlys
before the door shut. Barely opening one eye, he smiled when he saw Fraser
kneeling beside the sofa ready to kiss his forehead. 

 "Hey." 

 Fraser pulled back, startled. "You're awake." 

 "Not yet. Where's Frannie?" 

 Combing his fingers lovingly through Ray's hair, Fraser studied his face
as he spoke quietly. "She had to leave. You look pale." 

 Ray closed his eyes again, and took several deep breaths, savoring
Fraser's soft touches. "Where you been?" Contact stopped abruptly and
Fraser stood up to go to the kitchen. Ray opened his eyes, fully awake.
"Fraser?" 

 "I needed to run a few errands. I thought it best that you rested." 

 "That's what Frannie said. By the way, I don't need a baby sitter, but
thanks anyway." 

 "I just wasn't comfortable leaving you alone and Francesca mentioned she
intended to visit. It seemed a good way to accomplish both purposes." 

 "She knows about us." 

 Fraser turned from the counter, frowning. "She spoke to you about it?" 

 "Yeah. She's embarrassed, but she seems okay with it, well, as okay as
she can be considering how she feels about you." 

 "Oh, dear." Fraser shook his head. "I never wanted to hurt her." 

 "She knows that. It's just hard when you love someone and they don't feel
the same way." 

 "Are you relating her feelings to how you felt about Stella?" 

 "Not everything's about Stella, but, yeah, maybe in this case I am. It
was tough still being in love when she wasn't. So, I guess that makes me
feel a little bit more for Frannie than I would if it was just any lady
who had the hots for the guy I love." 

 Fraser flushed. "I appreciate that." 

 "What? That I feel bad that she's unhappy or that I love you?" 

 "Both, I suppose." 

 Ray sat up and rubbed his eyes before patting the cushion beside him.
"Have a seat and tell me where you went." Fraser closed his eyes briefly,
suddenly more tense. "Fraser, you're acting funny. What's up? The Ice
Queen call and want you to cancel leave or something?" 

 Reluctantly, Fraser sat down beside Ray as he shook his head. "Nothing
like that, Ray. No, this was something I needed to do. I'm uncomfortable
because, frankly, I'm not sure quite how you're going to react." 

 "React to what?" 

 "I probably should've told you before I made the appointment, but I was
afraid that if I did that, I might not follow through." 

 "Fraser, quit stallin' and just tell me what the fuck you did. What
appointment?" 

 "I made an appointment with Dr. Reese." 

 The room got suddenly very still. Even Dief stopped moving and stayed
hunkered down on the rug. Ray didn't speak for several long moments. "You
made an appointment with Reese? For me?" 

 "No, Ray, for me." 

 "For you? What for?" 

 Rubbing his eyebrow and avoiding Ray's questioning stare, Fraser
swallowed several times before he found his voice. "I felt the need for an
objective ear." 

 "Objective ear? You went to a shrink because you needed someone to talk
to? What am I, chopped liver?" 

 Fraser turned and shook his head. "I love you, but you're anything but
objective when it comes to me." 

 Crossing his arms, Ray snapped, "So, you had a session with Reese because
you think my opinions aren't good enough?" 

 "Not at all. Your opinions matter a great deal. The problem is, sometimes
we're more alike than is prudent when it comes to addressing situations
which disturb us." 

 "What's that mean?" 

 "It means we both avoid dealing with difficult issues sometimes." 

 "Nothing wrong with a little avoidance, Fraser, not when it comes to
stuff that sucks." 

 "Perhaps, but sometimes we need to face our fears, Ray." 

 "You saying I don't face my fears enough?" 

 "I'm saying I don't. This wasn't about you, Ray. It was about me. I
needed to do this." His throat dried, confession even harder than he
expected. "I've found increasingly difficult to maintain my composure when
dealing with this situation." 

 "You mean being with me?" 

 "No, Ray, I mean knowing that I couldn't stop what happened to you." 

 "What the fuck are you talking about? You think you're responsible for me
getting hurt?" 

 "I couldn't stop it." 

 Ray's voice softened as he turned sideways on the sofa, the blanket
pushed back out of the way. "You dumb Canadian, even the cops and Feds
couldn't stop what happened. You think you're bigger and badder than all
those tough guys put together?" 

 Fraser closed his eyes as he lowered his head. "I know intellectually
what you say is true, but..." 

 "You don't believe it deep down?" 

 "No. I keep going over it in my head, trying different scenarios, trying
to figure out what I did wrong, how I could've protected you better.
Nothing seems to help." 

 "So you're obsessing about it, huh?" 

 "Yes, along with other things. I needed to talk to someone who has some
emotional distance and psychological expertise to help me come up with
constructive strategies to control these insidious feelings." 

 Ray touched his cheek gently. "Yeah, I know how those feelings get to you
sometimes. So, you feel better?" 

 Fraser lifted his head and met Ray's eyes as he captured the hand at his
face. He kissed the palm, his tongue quickly licking the center before he
pulled back. "Not better, no, but different. Dr. Reese's perspectives are
rather insightful. He gave me some ideas to ponder." 

 "Any homework? The guy's a freak about that kind of shit." 

 "Exercises, yes. For one, he wants me to start keeping a journal." 

 "I thought you already did that." 

 "I do, but this is a different type of journal, one where I'm to address
my emotional reactions rather than a simple accounting of my day." 

 Still allowing Fraser to hold his hand, Ray studied the deep blue eyes.
"You can do that, write about stuff like that? It won't bother you?" 

 "I think the fact that it will bother me is the point." 

 "I don't get it." 

 "If I'm to master these feelings, I must confront them, express them. I
can't do that if I don't put them in some kind of logical order outside
myself. Right now I feel a great deal of anxiety about what's happened. I
think Dr. Reese's suggestion is not without merit." 

 Ray shook his head in admiration. "That takes guts, Fraser. I couldn't do
that." 

 "Have you tried?" 

 "I don't write that great, never have." 

 "You write all the time, Ray. Your reports are always quite thorough, if
not entertaining at times." 

 Ray chuckled and shrugged as he leaned in closer, letting Fraser wrap his
arms around him. "I guess that's why Welsh says they're a joke, huh?" 

 "Seriously, Ray, you're not a bad writer." 

 "But that's work, Fraser. I write down the facts, fill in the blank
stuff, nothing about how I think the scumbag should be locked up or shot.
It's not the same thing." 

 "Perhaps not, but I think you underestimate your expressive abilities." 

 "Not when it comes to writing. I used to cut school sometimes to avoid
turning in papers. I had to take summer school for English twice so I
could finally graduate, just barely. I ain't good at that stuff. And if
you want me to write about how I'm feeling, it's like I got this brick
wall between me and the paper. I just can't put it down so it makes any
sense." 

 "Have you ever tried drawing what you feel?" 

 "Drawing?" 

 "I've seen you draw on several occasions, Ray. You're actually quite
good." 

 Ray turned in his arms, wondering if Fraser got kicked in the head or
something. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

 "Those sketches you make in your personal notes." 

 "Those are just so I can remember stuff better." 

 "I know, and I'm saying, they're quite well done. When I see one of your
extemporaneous images, I usually know what it means without reading the
narrative. I'm just suggesting, that perhaps it might be easier for you to
find a way of expressing yourself graphically rather than through
writing." 

 "You think I draw okay?" 

 "Yes, I do." 

 Nodding, warmed by Fraser's strong praise, Ray settled back against him.
"Thanks." 

 "You're welcome." 

 "I still don't want to keep a journal though." 

 "It was just a suggestion. It might help you deal with some of your
anxiety." 

 "Right now all I want to deal with is thinking about getting out of this
place for a while. I was thinking we should go shopping for clothes and
then figure out what we need to take with us next week." 

 Arms tightened around him as Fraser kissed the top of his head. "It
doesn't bother you that I'm going to keep seeing Dr. Reese?" 

 "I'm trying not to think about that right now." 

 "I gathered that by your attempt to change the subject." 

 "Didn't work, huh?" 

 "Seriously, Ray, I need to know. If it bothers you, I can find someone
else." 

 "I'm not sure how I feel. I mean, if you need to see somebody, I guess
that's okay. But, why Reese?" 

 "I like him." 

 "Even though I thought he was a prick?" 

 "Even though, yes." 

 "Why?" 

 "For one, he seemed genuinely concerned about you when you were hurt, but
it's more than that. He's also professional, and he's very focused. I need
that, Ray. I need someone who's not going to be swayed by my tendency to
lead conversations or shy away from difficult subjects." 

 "Yeah, he's tough, that's true." 

 "If you don't mind my asking, what was it about his approach that
bothered you so much?" 

 Ray tightened at the memories of his two intense sessions. He forced
himself to block it out, to not think about feeling so trapped, so out of
control of his own life. "It wasn't just him. It was me. I know that. I
resented being forced to be there. Still do. It should be up to me if I
want to go or not. It pisses me off that they don't give me that choice,
that to keep my job I've got to go spill my guts to some stranger. I guess
if I'm fair, I took that out on Reese." 

 "Do you think it will be better when you start again with someone else?" 

 "I don't know. Guess I don't have a lot of choice about finding out." A
wave of quick anger hit him again. He sat up and leaned forward, his
elbows on his knees, his head down. "Look, I'm glad it's okay for you,
that you can talk to somebody if that's what you need, but shit, Fraser,
the point is you get to choose and I don't. I hate it." 

 Fraser rubbed small circles into his back, the touch soothing, calming.
"I'm sorry, Ray. I wish there were something I could do or say that would
make the prospect less threatening." 

 Shaking his head, Ray took a deep breath and stood up, the anxiety back
to full force. "It's not about threatening. I'm not threatened by that
shit. I just don't see the fucking point. It's stupid. Some asshole
listens to you bitch and moan and talk about stuff you can't change and
then he wants you to tell him what it feels like to get kicked senseless,
like that's some kind of fucking joke, like there's anything on this
fucking earth that you can say that will make it better. Nothing he says
or you say makes it better, nothing. Like I said, I just don't see the
point of going through that, but I am not, I repeat, I am not threatened
by some shrink who doesn't know dick about what I've been through." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to make you so angry." 

 "I'm not mad at you. I'm just, I don't know, I'm just pissed about this
whole shrink thing. Seems like everybody's on my case to get started, and
I'm not ready. Hell, I don't know if I'll ever be ready." Ray stopped for
a moment and stared down at Fraser, his voice not as tense. "But I hope it
works for you. Fuck, Fraser, you're the best thing that's ever happened to
me. I don't want you to feel bad because you got hooked up with me. It
wasn't your fault and if you need someone like Reese to convince you of
that, well, then do it." 

 Fraser stood up and took Ray in his arms. "You enrich my life, Ray. I
just wish I could make it easier for you and I think I can do that more
effectively if I settle my own mind about some troubling, rather
deep-seated personal issues." 

 Ray dropped his head to Fraser's shoulder, letting the rage drain out,
wanting to just let his partner hold him like nothing else mattered around
them. The hug charged him up, went right to his dick, made him flushed and
suddenly hot all over. "Just so long as you don't think I blame you for
what happened, because I don't, not ever." 

 "I know and I thank you for that." 

 "No need for thanks. It's the truth." Ray turned his head and kissed the
side of Fraser's neck and then moved to capture his mouth. Pulling back,
he whispered, "Any objections to a quick nap together?" 

 "Nap?" 

 "Your mouth, my hand, that kind of napping. Just thinking about it makes
me hard." Ray smiled and took Fraser's hand, sliding it down the space
between them to push against his bulging cock. "Feel that?" Breath
hitched, Fraser nodded without speaking, his eyes never leaving Ray's
hungry gaze. "Yeah, yeah, you feel that. You know you do that to me,
right? 

 Hips shoved toward him, Fraser's own budding erection his answer. Ray
guided him into the bedroom, his mind focused on being with Fraser,
feeling good again, not thinking about anything other than that wonderful
mouth, that safe harbor from pain.  

 Naked under the covers, Ray leaned against Fraser, his mind sleepy, his
whole body relaxed, his partner's strong arms around him. Coming took on a
whole new meaning when he came with Fraser. He sighed, contented as Fraser
kissed his neck and laced his fingers through his right hand. Fraser
lifted it to his face and breathed in deeply. 

 "Fraser?" 

 "Yes?" 

 "You sniffing my hand again?" 

 "It would seem so, yes." 

 "Freak." 

 "Understood." Fraser kissed him again and rested his chin on the top of
Ray's head. "You make me extremely happy, Ray." 

 "Yeah, I sort of got that. Same here." 

 "You seem to be feeling a lot better. I take it the new medication is
working to improve your condition." 

 "Yeah, I guess. I'm still kind of sluggish, but yeah, I feel better. Of
course, it helps to have mind-blowing sex with a Mountie. Gives a whole
new meaning to the saying, clearing one's head." 

 The soft chuckle shook both of them as Fraser lifted Ray's hand and held
it up like a prize. "You have beautiful hands, Ray. So graceful and
elegant, much like the rest of you." 

 "Graceful and elegant?" 

 "Yes, and talented." 

 "Well, talented I get." Ray pulled his hand back down, bringing Fraser's
with it, and rested it over his heart. "I'm glad it's good for you,
Fraser. I know it's damn fine for me." He paused, his voice lower. "I've
never in my whole life had anybody do that for me." 

 "Stella never performed fellatio?" 

 "She tried, but she hated it, so after a while, I just stopped asking.
But you, you're incredible. I mean, my God, Fraser, you swallow me whole.
How the hell do you do that?" 

 "One must relax the throat muscles and suppress the gag reflex. It takes
practice, but I've found the results to be well worth the effort." 

 "I'll say." Ray hesitated. "But is it really good for you? I mean, do you
really like doing it?" 

 Fraser squeezed him with a quick laugh. "Indeed, I do." He whispered in
Ray's ear. "I love sucking you off, Ray." 

 The crude words from Fraser's mouth made his cock tingle, eager to get up
and try again, have that gorgeous mouth back in business. Unfortunately,
recovery took longer than a few minutes. "You have any idea how hot it is
to hear you say stuff like that?" Fraser's hand slipped down and stroked
Ray's slowly reviving dick several times as his teeth nipped the side of
Ray's neck. He arched back, complaining, "God, you're a fucking tease,
Fraser." 

 Fraser rolled his balls, fondling him, his touches electric. Ray's dick
hardened, ever so slowly, the ache deep down, his thighs shaking with
anticipation. Fraser's hand wrapped around the cock and pumped him as his
tongue and mouth explored his neck with licks and kisses. Ray moaned, the
heat growing, the delicious fire easing up through his belly once again.
"Fraser, Jesus, I just came." 

 Fraser growled deep in his throat as he suckled harder, his teeth marking
Ray's skin. His hand stayed busy, the rhythm growing more steady as Ray's
cock responded, grew harder, burning for more. Hips thrust into Fraser's
hand, matching the action, Ray's whimpers lost in the fury of wanting
more, needing to come, taking forever. Air thinned, Ray's panting caught
up in the sudden rush of ecstasy that hit out of nowhere, his whole body
shooting off at once. The raw scream caught him off guard, his mouth
suddenly covered with Fraser's, the spasms ripping his spine from his
body. Fraser's tongue probed deeper, blocking all air, meeting moan for
moan. He couldn't stop coming, each wave like splashes of goodness
everywhere at once. 

 Eyes still closed, he fell back, completely at the mercy of the man he
loved. Fraser washed his face with more kisses, his hands all over, his
tongue like magic. Ray struggled for air and finally managed a breathy,
"Fuck, Fraser." 

 "Maybe next time, Ray." 

 Laughing out loud, Ray opened his eyes to see the hunger in those blue
eyes, the fire he rarely got to see so close. He lay on his back, Fraser
stretched out on top of him, their bodies sweaty and slick. He shook his
head in amazement as he caressed Fraser's cheek. "What the fuck was that?"


 "Sometimes the second climax is more intense than the first." 

 "But how did you know I could even get it up?" 

 Fraser dipped down and kissed him again, this time his tongue lazy and
possessive. When he pulled back, he spoke in a hush. "I've never been this
responsive to anyone, Ray. I just hoped you felt the same way." 

 "So you got hard again and you wanted me to join the ride, huh?" 

 "Thankfully, you appear to have enjoyed the activity as well." 

 Laughing, Ray hooked the back of his neck with his right hand. "Enjoyed?
Yeah, you could say that." Closing his eyes, drinking in the rich scent of
their sex mixed together, he wanted to slip down into sleep, the comfort
of Fraser's embrace like a call to nothing but pleasant dreams. 

 Fraser's voice nudged him back to awareness, but just barely. "We need to
clean up, Ray." 

 "Later." 

 "Ray, please. We need to shower and change the sheets." 

 "Ever the practical Mountie." 

 "You'll thank me later, Ray. Nobody likes to sleep in the wet spot." 

 "Love's a messy game, Fraser." 

 Fraser kissed him again in agreement, his tongue still wild and starving.
Ray returned the favor and decided he and Fraser could live with wet spots
just a little while longer.  

 "We need to make a list before we head out to the stores, Ray. Your
wardrobe at this point is almost non-existent. We need to restock your
closet first and then we can buy what you'll need for the trip." 

 "Sounds like a lot of work." 

 "Not necessarily. If we organize, we should be able to accomplish the
task in two trips. I recommend we buy your clothes first, come home for
lunch and rest, and then, if you're well enough, we can get the other
supplies in the afternoon." 

 Ray stretched out on the sofa under the blanket, his head resting on a
pillow as he watched Fraser fixing supper. He wiggled his toes and enjoyed
the coziness of just lying back and letting Fraser do the whole domestic
thing. "We could've gone out this afternoon." 

 Fraser turned and smiled, his body relaxed for a change. "I much
preferred what we did instead, Ray." 

 "No complaints from me." 

 "I should think not." 

 "Smug bastard." 

 "My parents were married before I was born, Ray, so that's not entirely
accurate. However, I must confess to feeling a trifle smug, so I will
concede to part of that description." 

 "With good reason." 

 "Thank you kindly." 

 Ray chuckled, amused by Fraser's light tone. Who knew it took amazing sex
to get the guy to loosen up? Hell, he hadn't had sex that good for a
while, either, so he felt pretty damn fine himself. "I don't really need
that many clothes, Fraser. Jeans, T-shirts, some underwear and socks.
Nothing fancy." 

 Fraser shook his head as he returned to peeling the potatoes. "You need
everything, Ray. You don't even have a good suit left." 

 "I don't really need a suit right away." 

 "True, but you will eventually. The point is, we need to make a list and
we can either try to do it all at once or get the basics and do the rest
when we return. The main thing is, you need thermal gear for when we
travel. Nothing you own is going to be adequate for the weather in
Yellowknife in December." 

 "Cold?" 

 "It's the arctic. It's frigid by any definition you can imagine. The
average temperature can be minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit and that doesn't
include the wind chill factor." Ray shivered involuntarily on the sofa as
Fraser continued, "Properly outfitted, you should do fine, but there's no
way we'll travel until you have a good cold-weather coat, hat, and
gloves." 

 "That's going to cost some bucks, huh?" 

 Fraser stopped working and turned. He wiped off his hands on the
dishtowel tucked around his middle and stepped closer to the sofa. "I can
pay for the gear, Ray. You don't have to worry." 

 "Come on, Fraser. You don't have to do that. I can pay my own way. It's
just a lot at one time, that's all." 

 Fraser sat down on the armrest and shook his head. "You don't understand,
Ray. I don't mind. My monthly allotment is automatically deposited to my
account and to be quite honest, being single and living at the Consulate,
my expenses have been minimal. It's not a hardship." 

 "Still, I'd feel weird if I thought you thought I couldn't pay my own
way." 

 "I don't think that." 

 "That's good, because I can. I'll pay for my own stuff, okay? It's not a
problem." 

 "Certainly, Ray, but you know if we're going to be together, we need to
eventually sit down and review our financial arrangements." 

 "You mean like having a joint bank account or something?" 

 "Well, I have moved in. It's only fair that I pay for part of the living
expenses. According to most studies, the two things that cause the most
discord in a marriage are sex and money. I don't want those to be problems
for us." 

 Ray sat up a little and smiled. "Well, the sex part is good." 

 "And I want to be sure that finances are also satisfactory and not a
source of conflict." 

 "Sure, sure, that's fine. I'm not that great with money. Stella used to
handle all the bills and shit. I mean, now I just put the check in the
bank and then buy what I need. I usually have enough to cover stuff. I try
not to use the credit card unless I have to." 

 "You have a credit card?" 

 "Don't you?" 

 "No." 

 "Never?" 

 "They're not very feasible in the Yukon." 

 "But you've been in Chicago three years. You're tellin' me you've never
used a credit card?" 

 "I've never needed one." 

 "What about when you're renting something or buying plane tickets? They
won't let you get that stuff without a card." 

 "They will if you go in person and pay in cash." 

 "Canadian or American cash?" 

 "Depends on the airlines." 

 Ray took a deep breath, shaking his head, amazed at how differently
Fraser lived from anyone he ever knew. "That's pretty damn cool, Fraser. I
wish I'd met you years ago before I got in debt up to my ass. Took me ages
to pay off those cards. Now I've only got the one, but like I said, I try
not to use it. Thing is, I either use the card or go into my savings to
replace all the stuff that was destroyed. The insurance check will
probably cover it, but that hasn't shown up, probably because I haven't
gotten around to filing all the papers yet." 

 "Insurance?" 

 "Yeah, renter's insurance. They should pay for the damage and to replace
what got ruined. I just have to get a police report and send it to my
agent." 

 "That's excellent news, Ray. Perhaps we can pick up a report tomorrow and
file the paperwork right away. The processing might be done by the time we
return from the trip." 

 "And we might get a free trip to Jupiter, too." 

 "I'm being optimistic on the timeframe?" 

 "You might say that, yeah." 

 Fraser shrugged. "At least it will eventually provide reimbursement. That
should help alleviate the brunt of the financial burden of replacing what
you need." 

 "Yeah." Ray nodded, trying to block out the images of the destroyed
apartment, the mess, the broken bits and pieces of his life. "So, what are
we having for supper?" 

 "Ah, well, I thought I'd go with something simple. Broiled steak,
scalloped potatoes, and green beans. For dessert there's Mrs. Vecchio's
pineapple cheesecake." 

 "You trying to fatten me up?" 

 "May I plead the fifth amendment?" 

 "Does that apply to Canadians?" 

 "I certainly hope so." Fraser stood and headed back to the kitchen. He
finished putting the potatoes in the dish while he talked. "You can take a
short nap if you like. This should be done in about thirty minutes." 

 Ray chuckled under his breath, pulling the blanket higher. "Two naps in
less than an hour are about all I can handle, Fraser." 

 "I meant the traditional type of nap, Ray." 

 "We need a different name then. From now on, whenever I hear the word
nap, I'm only going to think of one thing, you and the best sex in the
whole fucking world." 

 Fraser flushed a deep red and turned toward him, the bright blue shine in
his eyes truly stunning. "I love you, Ray. Sex is only one way to express
that." 

 Ray's voice softened. "I know that, Fraser, I know it's not just about
sex and getting laid. I know you love me better than anyone's ever loved
me or will ever love me again. I feel the same way. Just wish I hadn't
waited 'til I was all busted up to say it." 

 "The important thing is that it's out in the open now." 

 "Yeah, I guess." 

 Frowning, Fraser stepped back out of the kitchen. "What?" 

 "It's just I hate having to keep it a secret from almost everybody." 

 "We both knew that was part of it for now. We can't let most people know,
at least until the Vecchio assignment is over. Perhaps then we might
consider being more open." 

 The warmth of the moment evaporated. "As long as I'm a cop, it's going to
be a problem, Fraser." 

 "It doesn't necessarily have to be." 

 "What's that mean?" 

 "It means that you can be in a gay relationship and still be a police
officer in Chicago. Legally, they can't fire you." 

 "They don't have to. Fraser, I told you how it is here. This isn't
Canada. If I stay a cop and want to do my job without extra shit every
day, I have to stay in the closet about this." 

 Fraser's expression hardened as he sat down in the chair across from the
sofa. "Will you be able to do that?" 

 "I don't know." 

 "So, what exactly are you saying, Ray?" 

 "I'm not sure. I guess I'm sort of thinking out loud." 

 "Are you thinking that being together is a bad idea?" 

 Ray met his eyes, startled. "No, I'm not saying that at all. Jesus,
Fraser, I just got up the courage to be with you. I'm not going to give
you up just because a bunch of backward assholes can't handle me being a
faggot. I'm just not sure I'm going to be able to keep it secret and if I
can't do that, then I'm going to have to think about other job options." 

 "You're thinking about quitting the police force?" 

 "Maybe." 

 "What would you do instead?" 

 "I don't know. I can do lots of stuff." 

 "Of course you can." 

 "I guess, I was just throwing it out there so you wouldn't be too shocked
if I suddenly said so long to the badge when Vecchio gets back." 

 Fraser crossed his arms, his eyes studying Ray carefully. "I appreciate
you telling me, but it's your decision. I'll support whatever you decide
to do." 

 "What if I told you I wanted to move to Canada?" 

 Fraser sat back, stunned. "You mean that?" 

 "I'm thinking about it. I mean, it's a sure thing that eventually they're
going to move you back. They can't keep you in exile forever. When they
do, I just want you to know I'm planning to go with you." 

 Fraser bit his lower lip, his eyes suddenly red. "You have no idea what
that means to me." 

 "I think I do. You think I don't get that you think that I'm going to get
tired of you once I get on my feet again. But you forget you're not the
only one in this partnership for the last year. I know you, Fraser. You
really think I'm going to use you and move on once I'm well again? If I
didn't love you so damn much, I'd be pissed, but, see, I know how you
think. What you need is someone like me who doesn't give up. Once you've
got me, I don't let go easy. You think you've seen me stubborn? You ain't
seen nothing yet. Where you go, I go. A permanent duet. Got that?" 

 Fraser hesitated, but only for a brief moment. He smiled and nodded, his
voice slightly choked. "Yes, Ray, I do. Thank you." 

 "For what?" 

 "For saying what I needed to hear." 

 "You're welcome." Ray closed his eyes, his breathing even, happy he
finally said what he'd been keeping so close to his heart. "I'm tired. You
wear me out with this stuff." 

 Fraser answered with a kiss on his forehead as he slipped back to the
kitchen, his soft, happy hum like a serenade to their love.  

 "Ray?" 

 "Yeah?" 

 "What are you doing?" 

 "It itches." Ray jabbed the business end of the steak knife down the end
of his cast, scratching the godawful, nonstop itching. He wanted to scream
at the way his skin crawled just under the plaster. 

 Fraser reached over and took the knife from his hand. "I know it itches,
but it's dangerous to do that. You could damage the skin or stab
yourself." 

 "It's a fucking steak knife, Fraser. I'd have to poke it in there pretty
damn hard to hurt anything. I just want to take the edge off a little." 

 Fraser shook his head and took the knife to the sink before sitting back
down. "I've had broken bones before, Ray. I know how terribly distracting
the irritation can be when they're healing. However, we can put talcum
powder in the cast and that should help relieve the sensation." 

 "The knife's quicker." 

 "I'm sure it is, but we're not going to do that again." 

 Ray tilted his head, his lips pursed with annoyance. "What's up with the
we shit? You're not the one wearing the cast last time I checked." 

 "Perhaps I should go fetch that powder." 

 "Perhaps you should take Dief for a walk instead. He hasn't been out and
I'm thinking he's crossing his paws about now." 

 "It's only natural to be irritable during convalescence, Ray." 

 Ray got up from the table and headed for the bedroom. "Just take the damn
wolf for a walk before I get pissed." 

 Fraser followed right behind him, his voice tense. "It would seem it's
too late for that. Why are you so angry?" 

 "I'm not angry." 

 "Ray, you're overreacting about the knife." 

 "It's not the knife. It's not about the fucking knife." 

 Ray paced back and forth at the end of their bed, Fraser watching him
intently from the doorway. "Then what is it about?" 

 "It's about what the knife stands for." 

 "I don't understand." 

 "Give the man a cigar. Of course you don't. How could you, Mr. I always
know what's best? I'm a grown man, Fraser. You don't get to tell me what
to do all the time." Ray stopped and took a deep breath, working like hell
to push down the waves of anger swelling all around. "Look, it's like I
know you mean well. I get that, but you've got to trust me to know what I
know, too." 

 "Know about what?" 

 "About me, about what I need sometimes. If I want to use a fucking
butcher knife to scratch my arm, then by God, that's my own damn choice." 

 "Ray, using a butcher knife would just be foolish." 

 "Fuck you, Fraser. You're not listening." 

 Fraser paused, his face pale, his eyes serious. "I am listening, Ray. I'm
just not sure I understand what you're saying. Do you really think I'm
arrogant?" 

 "I never said you were arrogant. You're not stuck up. I didn't say
anything like that." 

 "No, I meant arrogant in that I think I know everything, because that's
not true. I don't think that." 

 "You might not think it, but you act like it, and fuck, why not? You do
know a lot of stuff, a lot more than I'll ever know, a lot more than most
people will ever think about knowing. That still doesn't give you the
right to tell me what I can and can't do. Don't do that, okay? It makes me
really crazy when you do that." 

 "I can see that." 

 Ray stopped pacing suddenly and then sat on the edge of the bed, his head
down. "Just take Dief out for a while. I'll be fine when you get back." 

 "I don't want to leave you when you're so agitated." 

 "I need a little space here, Fraser. I'm not used to a 24/7 watchdog,
especially one that never misses a fucking thing." 

 "Well, obviously I missed something. I never saw this coming." 

 "This what?" 

 "This reaction." Fraser stepped closer and then sat down beside him, his
hand on his back. "I never meant to upset you. I'm sorry." 

 "What for? You didn't really do anything you haven't done a million
times. It's me, Fraser. I can't seem to figure out what's wrong with me.
I'm just fucked up." His words choked. "I'm sorry. Just leave me alone for
a little while. I'll be okay." 

 "I'll take Diefenbaker to the park. I'll take your cell phone in case you
need to call." 

 "Sure. That's good." As Fraser kissed him on the temple, Ray closed his
eyes, his body shaking. "I'm sorry, Fraser. I just keep losing it for no
reason. It's not you." 

 "I love you, Ray." Fraser stood and headed to the doorway, signaling for
a worried Diefenbaker to follow. He called back from the living room.
"I'll be back shortly." 

 Ray didn't answer, just waited for the door to close, listened for the
fading footsteps on the stairs to go away. Still sitting on the bed, he
took a deep breath. "Fuck." He had absolutely no idea why he'd gone nuts
like that, none at all, not really. 

 Standing, he went back to the kitchen and got the knife, held it up and
studied the edge, the smooth sharpness of it just beyond the handle. His
gut twisted as he remembered a similar blade, one held to his throat, one
that bit into his skin like a thin burn and then long ribbons of pain all
over. He dropped the knife in the sink and sagged down in the chair by the
table. Head down, he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting off the visions of
other cuts, gashes into his leg and back, his skin being sliced away as a
larger man held him down. Clooney's bloody mouth suckled the wounds,
whispered in his ear about the flavor, about the taste of him, about
fucking the bitch as long as he wanted. Ray's struggle failed completely
as he fell back, his heart pounding, Clooney touching him all over, his
legs forced apart. 

 Gasping for air, Ray jerked up and opened his eyes, the light of his
apartment grounding him in the present. "Jesus." Still breathing hard, he
forced himself up from the table, and rushed to the bathroom. He stripped
off all his clothes, checking for blood. Part of him knew he was crazy,
irrational, no way there was blood now, not now. The other half of his
brain made him see for himself, know for sure that it wasn't then, wasn't
the time before, the time when he couldn't stop what happened. 

 Satisfied, but exhausted, Ray slid down the wall, his knees up. He
shuddered, his arms wrapped around himself.  

 "Dear God, Ray, what happened?" 

 Eyes still closed, Ray bit back the lingering fear. "I panicked a
little." 

 "Panicked? About what?" 

 "I don't know." 

 A blanket draped around him as Fraser moved to sit beside him on the
cramped floor of the bathroom. "Ray, please, tell me what happened." 

 "I'm not sure." Fraser hugged him closer, Ray relaxing, drinking in the
heat of his lover's body. 

 "Just tell me what you remember." 

 The words came out haltingly, resistant. "It was like I was dreaming, but
I wasn't asleep. It seemed real." 

 "What seemed real?" 

 "The cuts. I was looking at the knife and then I remembered getting cut."


 Fraser embraced him even harder, a brief kiss to his cheek. "Why are you
in here naked?" 

 "Blood. I had to check for blood." 

 "Ray, there's no blood. You're safe." 

 "I know. I had to see for sure though. It was real." 

 "It was real before, but not now." 

 Ray sagged against Fraser, exhausted again. "You weren't gone very long."


 "I was gone for over thirty minutes." 

 "Really?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Didn't feel like it. It happened so fast. Everything just tilted and I
was back where I was before." 

 Strong arms held him and then urged him up. "Let's get you to bed. You're
freezing." 

 Ray didn't protest, just let himself be guided to the bed, safe and warm
under the covers. Fraser sat on the edge, watching him with concern. "I'm
sorry I upset you before." 

 "It wasn't you. It was the knife." 

 Nodding, Fraser cupped his face. "I think you've had what's known as a
flashback." 

 "Fuck. That can't be good." 

 "No, no, it's not, but it isn't totally unexpected." 

 "It was for me." 

 "I can imagine." Fraser kissed him sweetly and then sat back up. "Do you
have any idea what triggered it?" 

 "The knife. I was holding it and then I remembered being cut." 

 "Did you recall anything else about the attack?" 

 "I remembered he liked sucking the blood, but other than that, no." Ray
bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, his voice strained as he held back
the smallest of lies, the biggest of lies. "This is scary shit, Fraser. I
mean, this came out of nowhere." 

 "No, it didn't, Ray. You've survived a serious trauma, most of which
you've blocked out. Flashbacks aren't that uncommon for situations like
yours." 

 "They're not common for me." 

 "Of course not. I didn't mean that." 

 "I know." 

 Ray took Fraser's hand and held it to his chest, trying desperately not
to sound pathetic. "Come to bed, Fraser. I'm tired and I don't think I can
sleep alone." 

 "Let me lock up and I'll be right back." 

 As Fraser stood to leave, Ray released him. He closed his eyes again,
hoping like hell he didn't have to deal with the whole blood shit again,
knowing deep down that it most likely would get worse before it got
better. He trembled at his own thoughts, his own predictions, and prayed
for Fraser to hurry.  

 Ray sat at the table, his shoulders hunched over as he held the coffee
mug with both hands. It didn't stop the shaking, but he managed to drink a
little bit before he finally set it back down. Fraser busied himself with
oatmeal. "Ray, I think we need to talk about what happened." 

 "I don't." 

 "I understand that, but..." 

 "But you still want to talk about it. Fine, talk. Feel better." 

 Fraser ignored the hostility and served up the oatmeal before returning
the pan to the stove. He sat down, but didn't touch his spoon. Instead, he
leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together in
front of his face. "When I saw you last night, Ray, it scared me." 

 Of all the things he could've said, that was the one thing Ray didn't
expect. "Fuck, Fraser. I'm sorry." 

 "You didn't do it on purpose, Ray. You had an episode, something that you
had no control over. It's nothing to be sorry about. Still, it concerns
me." 

 "Me, too." 

 "Have you had anything like this happen before?" 

 "What? You mean like going nuts and thinking I'm covered with blood when
I'm not?" 

 "That or something like it." 

 Ray sat back, his arms crossed, his sweatshirt not nearly warm enough to
make up for the bone deep cold he couldn't seem to shake. "Nothing quite
as bad as that, no." 

 Fraser moved his arms off the table and studied him closer. "Nothing
quite as bad implies that you've had similar situations." 

 "Sometimes I lose time, just sort of get lost in my head a while.
Sometimes I remember shit out of nowhere, smells, sounds, feelings." Ray
closed his eyes, fighting off the memories. "You've seen what can happen a
couple of times. I just lose it. At least this time I didn't upchuck all
over the place." 

 "I should've recognized what was happening when you got sick before. I
didn't make the connection." 

 Ray shrugged, not meeting Fraser's concerned gaze. "I didn't make the
connection, either, so don't feel bad. I've always had a tricky stomach." 

 "I know, which is why I didn't see that there might be a bigger problem
than just a reaction to stress or exhaustion. However, at least now that
we've seen what can happen, we can be more prepared if it should occur
again." 

 Ray turned his head and frowned. "You're not going to insist I go see
some shrink right this minute?" 

 "Is that what you expected me to say?" 

 "Yeah. I figured you'd be pushing me hard to get my ass in right away." 

 Fraser sighed and shook his head. "Ray, I'd be pleased if you decided to
see someone, but that's up to you. As you've pointed out repeatedly, you
don't feel ready. I see no reason to belabor the point. Might as well try
to count every snowflake in Canada." 

 "Not going to happen, huh?" 

 "Something like that." Fraser motioned to the bowl in front of Ray. "Eat
before it gets cold. I've prepared a list and we can head out to the
stores early." 

 "You think it's safe to take me out in public?" 

 "I take Diefenbaker out in public." 

 "Good point, but he's got better manners." 

 "I'd say you were pretty much even." 

 The wolf sniffed, not the least bit amused at the joke as Ray laughed and
drank some more coffee. He still didn't touch his oatmeal, though, and
Fraser handed him some toast and pineapple preserves. "Try to eat
something." 

 "You know me and breakfast don't see eye to eye. It's a waste to even fix
anything this time of day." 

 "I know you've told me, but..." 

 "But you keep trying. I know." 

 "Perhaps we could stop at Kuntz Bakery for some Danish before we go
shopping." 

 "Yeah, maybe. It just takes me a couple of hours to put anything in my
stomach other than caffeine." Ray dipped his spoon into the mushy oatmeal
and let some of it drop back into the bowl. "It's nothing against your
cooking, honest. I felt the same way when Mom fixed stuff. Never could get
me to eat it." 

 Defeated, Fraser nodded and proceeded to eat his own breakfast while Ray
drank more coffee, filling his cup twice more before he drank the last
bit. Sitting together quietly, just the two of them, calmed Ray more than
he ever expected. When Fraser got up and cleared the table, Ray stood and
helped. He returned the milk and preserves to the refrigerator and then
positioned himself beside Fraser as he ran the water to do the dishes.
"You want me to dry those?" 

 "No, that's fine. Why don't you go make the bed and take your medicine?" 

 "You make the bed better than I do." 

 Fraser met his eyes. "Yes, I do, but practice might change that." 

 "Okay, okay, I'll make the bed. Just don't expect to bounce any
quarters." 

 "Would that be an American or Canadian coin?" 

 Ray leaned in and kissed the smirk off his partner's face, his tongue
darting in, the taste of tea and oats mixing with his coffee. He pulled
back and leaned his forehead against Fraser's. "I love you, you know that,
right?" 

 "And I you, Ray. Now, go make the bed and get ready. There's something
called an early bird special at Bloomingdale's. We get an extra 15 percent
off any clearance items if we get there and make our purchases before
eleven." 

 Ray pulled away and headed to the bedroom, muttering as he went. "Right,
right, early bird special. Gotcha." 

 "And, Ray?" 

 "Yeah?" 

 "If you start to get tired or you feel like you need to leave, just tell
me." 

 "Sure, Fraser. The same with you. If we get there and the crowd bugs you,
we can just wait or go some place else." 

 "That seems fair." 

 "Good." 

 Ray walked into the bedroom and stared at the bed, wishing like hell he
could just crawl back under the covers. The idea of shopping to replace
all the destroyed clothes almost made him dizzy. Still, he had Fraser and
if anyone could organize a quick, in and out, get it done efficiently with
the least amount of hassle expedition, it was his Mountie. Hurriedly, he
straightened the pillows and top sheet before pulling up and smoothing out
the blanket and comforter. Not for the first time, Ray realized that
having only one good hand sucked when it came to doing housework. 

 Ray stepped to the bathroom and picked up the pill bottles. He'd taken
the Phenergan earlier when he first got up, so he took his antibiotic.
Fingering the Percocet bottle, he thought about skipping another dose, but
figured with the nagging headache already creeping up the back of his
head, he'd better be safe. He popped one in his mouth, hoping it kicked in
quick, praying it worked its magic so he could just skip any jagged edges
that might snag his mind and make him act all crazy again. No way did he
want to think about getting in a busy store and making some kind of scene,
like he couldn't control himself anymore. He closed his eyes and pushed
away the thought, forced down the rising fear that the best thing he could
do would be to lock himself away. 

 Fraser stood at the doorway, watching him intently when he opened his
eyes. "Are you all right?" 

 "I'm fine. Just a little headache." 

 "Did you take anything?" 

 "Just the usual." 

 Fraser nodded and then stepped closer as he wrapped his arms around Ray's
waist. "You'll be fine, Ray. If you feel like there's going to be a
problem, I'll get you out quickly. You don't have to worry." 

 Ray shook his head and snorted lightly. "How do you do that?" 

 "Do what?" 

 "Read my mind." 

 "Actually, you're a very difficult person to read sometimes, but not
about this. Anyone would be frightened after what's happened." 

 "It's just shopping." 

 "It's going out into a crowd when you're not sure how you're going to
react even in private." 

 Ray relaxed into Fraser's embrace and rested his head on his shoulders.
Fraser rubbed his back lightly before a quick squeeze. "We should go." 

 "Yeah, yeah. We should." Ray didn't move from the hug. "Fraser?" 

 "Yes?" 

 "Just give me a minute, okay?" 

 "You've got as long as you need, Ray."  

 Ray held up the tag on a plain, grey sweater, his eyes squinty. "What's
that say, Fraser? I don't have my glasses and there's no way that can say
what I think it says." 

 Fraser read the tag, his right eyebrow lifted in surprise. "It says
$112.49, marked down from $224.99." 

 Snorting, Ray put the sweater back. "That's what I thought it said." 

 "It does seem a tad expensive." 

 "Try too fucking expensive. It's not even all wool." 

 "And I must say the workmanship isn't the best quality, either." 

 Ray shook his head and sighed. "I think we're going to have to admit
defeat here, Fraser. I can't afford this stuff even when it's marked
down." 

 "We got a good deal on the undergarments and socks." 

 "Yeah, yeah, we did, especially the thermal underwear, and I liked that
one flannel shirt that was on sale, but the rest is way out of my league.
Hell, they want sixty bucks for a pair of jeans and they're not even broke
in." 

 "Broke in? Do you mean broken in?" 

 "Broke, broken, whatever. I just mean pre-washed and soft so they fit
right." 

 "Ah." 

 Ray ignored the ah and went over to another clearance rack, still
disgusted at the outrageous prices. He didn't see a single shirt that he'd
pay his own money for. "I think we picked the wrong place to shop." 

 "Perhaps we did. I think if you're not put off by wearing broken clothes,
I might have a suggestion." 

 Ray looked up. "What?" 

 "There's a consignment shop I sometimes frequent that might be more to
your liking. There are also some thrift shops we could try." 

 "You mean buy second hand stuff?" 

 "It's seems a good option. I've found many a bargain." 

 "Bargain, huh? Sounds good. How fast can we get there?" 

 Fraser checked the clock over the nearby counter. "It's after one o'clock
now. I suggest we have lunch first and then drive over." 

 "Jesus, Fraser. We've been shopping for over three hours. No wonder my
feet hurt." 

 "Then lunch it is. Should we go home or eat out?" 

 "Let's save time. There's a Chinese place on the corner. Let's go there
and then check out these other stores." 

 At the restaurant, Fraser ordered for both of them. They sat quietly
while they waited, Fraser sipping tea, Ray drinking his coffee. After a
few minutes, Ray leaned in. "So, how come you've been holding out about
these consignment places?" 

 "I wasn't exactly holding out. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about
shopping second-hand shops as you call them." 

 Ray nodded, accepting the explanation with no problem. "You know, Stella
wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that." 

 "Why's that?" 

 "Take a guess." Before Fraser could hazard a response, Ray held up a
hand. "This is one of those times when I didn't really mean for you to
answer." 

 "I see." 

 "Yeah, you probably do. Stella has this thing about fitting in with the
upper class. No reason why she wouldn't. I mean, she came from money, and
I'm talking Gold Coast money. Her dad's a big shot who runs some kind of
finance company and her mom's into all these social clubs and shit. You
should've seen the look on their faces when Stella walked in with me.
You'd thought she'd stepped in a big pile of Dief shit." 

 Fraser didn't interrupt, but his face made his disapproval obvious.
"Yeah, I know, it was rebellion on her part. Sometimes when I get really
down on myself, I think that was the only reason she hooked up with me in
the first place. I was a way to snub her folks. Funny thing was, after a
while she was as bad as they were, looking at me like why the hell
couldn't I be more like she wanted, more like the guys she was used to?
She wanted to dress me a certain way, to eat fancy dishes, to give up
boxing, do what she wanted every damn time." Ray paused, his eyes not
really focused on the present. "And for a while, that was okay. I'd have
cut off my right arm to please her. But it was never enough, Fraser, never
enough. I could never do refinement, not the way she needed. So after a
while it just fell apart when I wasn't looking, when I wasn't on guard to
the fact that she got tired of putting up with this guy who would never be
the guy she really wanted." 

 Before Fraser spoke, the food arrived. As soon as the waiter left, Fraser
served the rice and then the sesame chicken. Ray used a fork and Fraser
used his chop sticks as he spoke quietly. "You know, Ray, as hard as all
that was to live through, you've at least managed to remain friends, or at
least remain relatively friendly. She does care for you. There's no
question about that." 

 Ray nodded thoughtfully, chewing the chicken, but then quickly gulping
down lots of water. "Damn, that's hot." 

 "It is rather spicy." 

 Ray took another bite. "It's not bad though." 

 "It's very good, actually." 

 "Yeah, it is." Ray bit his lower lip, a little self-conscious. "I didn't
mean to start in on Stella again. I'm not sure why I said all that." 

 "It must bother you. And as you mentioned, Stella probably wouldn't
approve of consignment or thrift stores." 

 "Yeah, she is kind of snobbish." Fraser tilted his head, a small grin
trying to show up. "Come on, Fraser, admit it. You think she can be
snobby, too." 

 "Ray, you already know what I think about Stella." 

 "Oh, yeah, you made that pretty clear." Ray sat back, more relaxed than
he could remember being in a long time. "And that's okay. So, you think
any of these places will have that cold weather stuff you were talking
about?" 

 "I doubt it, but we can check." 

 "Because I feel pretty good, but I'm not sure I can handle going for the
coat and gloves and shit all in one go round." 

 "That's fine, Ray. We'll buy what we can today and go tomorrow after your
appointment with Dr. Barnes." 

 Ray stilled. "I forgot about that." 

 "You're doing much better. It should only be blood work and a quick
exam." 

 "Should be, but you never know what that guy's going to come up with.
Seems to get his jollies making me squirm and giving me lectures about
shit." 

 Fraser frowned but remained quiet while he finished lunch. Ray ate about
half his meal and gave up. "You know what would be good?" 

 "What?" 

 "If I could get my car out of storage and have it towed over to Larry's
Garage." 

 "Larry's Garage?" 

 "Yeah, he's a friend from the old neighborhood. He's got his own place
now. Let's me use it sometimes." 

 Fraser put his chop sticks down and sat back. "I thought you wanted to
fix your car yourself. You seemed quite adamant about doing it right." 

 Shrugging, Ray didn't look up, just moved the food around on his plate.
"Well, yeah, I'd like to do it myself, but I don't see that happening
anytime soon and we can't just keep bumming off Frannie. I figure I can
let Larry replace the tires and put a few coats of paint on. Then in the
spring, I'll be able to do the rest myself. I mean, it would still be
drivable if he fixed it. It just won't look as good until I put on the
final coats and do some detailing. Larry's almost as good as me, though,
so I might even let him go for it." 

 "Then that sounds like a good plan. Would you like me to contact a
reputable towing service?" 

 Suddenly very tired, Ray shook his head. "No, I'll call Larry myself.
He's got his own truck. It won't be a problem." 

 "Are you all right? You look pale." 

 "I'm fine. I was just thinking." 

 "About?" 

 "About my dad." 

 "I'm sorry." 

 "Yeah." Ray sighed deeply. "It's just that we worked so damn hard on that
car and when he came back from Arizona that was his way of making it right
between us again. He didn't have to keep it up, didn't have to give it to
me, but he did because it was his way of saying he still loved me. Now,
here we're not talking again and the car is fucked. Just seems symbolic or
something." 

 "You mean you think the condition of the car represents the condition of
the relationship with your father?" 

 "Yeah, maybe." 

 "Do you think repairing the car might somehow mend the differences
between you and your father?" 

 "No, I don't think that." Even as he said it, he hated the words, didn't
want to admit the pain they carried. "My dad made his choice. He doesn't
want to call me his son anymore." 

 "That's his loss, Ray." 

 "I know." Ray looked up, his eyes blurry. "But it's mine, too." Standing
up, he took a deep breath to clear his head, and picked up the bill.
"Enough chitchat about stuff that don't matter. Pitter, patter, we've got
clothes to buy and budgets to turn to shit. You up to watching me write
some more checks?" 

 "Seems I've got the easier task." 

 Ray chuckled and shook his head. "Depends on how much stuff you get to
carry. Speaking of checks, let me pay this and then we'll take all those
bags to the car." 

 "Certainly." 

 Stepping to the counter, Ray pulled out his wallet and took care of the
check, his mind busy on counting bills and change and pushing away the
hurt of thinking about his father's rejection.	

 "Okay, okay, this is more like it. Look at this, a Bull's T-shirt for $5.
I think we've found the right place. 

 "But you already have one of those and it wasn't damaged." 

 Ray dropped the shirt over Fraser's arm and shook his head. "You can
never have enough T-shirts, Fraser, not with the right logos. Besides,
they're collector's items." 

 "I hardly think so, Ray. This one is far from mint condition." 

 "What do you expect for five bucks?" Ray continued pushing through the
rack of shirts, pulling out four sweatshirts along with two flannel ones.
"You should probably take those up to the counter and have her hold them
while we go through the other stuff." 

 Fraser nodded. "Perhaps you should try these on first." 

 "No need. I know what size I wear." 

 "You've lost weight over the last few weeks." 

 Frowning, Ray moved to the rack with the jeans. "Not enough to make that
much difference." 

 "There are dressing rooms in the back." 

 "I just said I'm not trying stuff on, Fraser, so drop it." 

 Fraser's lips thinned. "Consider it dropped." 

 Ray stopped and turned, grabbing Fraser's arm before he walked away.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to snap, but I just don't have the energy to strip off
and try on clothes. I just don't." 

 "Understood. It's not a problem." 

 "You sure?" 

 "Ray, it's your money, your clothes. You do what you're comfortable
doing." 

 "Thanks." 

 Smiling again, Fraser headed off to take the selected items to the
register. Meanwhile, Ray continued to sort through pants and jeans,
checking sizes and conditions of the clothes. As soon as Fraser returned,
Ray handed him three pairs of well worn jeans and a pair of grey slacks
that looked brand new. "I like this place, Fraser. I think someone must
have cleaned out the right closets just for me." 

 "It would appear that you're having good luck finding broken jeans." 

 "Just the way I like'em." Ray threw another pair over Fraser's arm and
then got a gleam in his eye as he headed for the jackets. "Oh, my God,
Fraser, look at this." 

 "What?" 

 Ray snatched a black leather jacket from the rack. "I can't believe this.
It's only $25." He had Fraser hold his tan coat. Then, he slipped on the
leather one, tugging to get it over his cast, the sleeves a little longer
than they should be, but not so long he couldn't roll them up or have them
altered. Hell, Fraser could do amazing things with a needle sometimes. 

 "Oh, my." 

 Ray lifted his head and met hungry blue eyes. "You like it?" 

 Fraser cleared his throat and licked his lower lip, his voice suddenly
more husky. "You look very James Dean-like, Ray." 

 Chuckling, Ray stepped closer and whispered, "I'll show you James Dean
when we get home." 

 Fraser blushed bright red and nearly choked when the owner walked up
behind them. "Having fun, guys?" 

 Ray laughed and nodded. "This is a great place." He held out a hand. "I'm
Ray Vecchio and this here is Constable Benton Fraser..." 

 "Of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who first came to Chicago on the
trail of his father's killers." 

 "I see you've heard the story." 

 Shaking his hand, the woman grinned. "The name's Debbie, and I've heard a
great deal about you, Ray." She glanced mischievously at Fraser and leaned
in. "He did say you were handsome, but he didn't say you were so raw." 

 "Raw?" 

 "I mean that in the best way." She looked him up and down, her eyes
bright with approval. "Oh, yeah, raw works. Like the jacket?" 

 "It's great." 

 "It just came in this morning. Looks good." 

 "You sure about the price?" 

 "Absolutely. The guy who brought it in is going through a preppy phase
and wants to get a new image. He wanted to sell quick and cheap." 

 "Works for me." 

 "Ray has an affinity for leather." 

 Debbie touched the soft brown leather of Fraser's jacket and nodded. "I
can see that." 

 Once again Fraser's complexion turned dark red and Ray couldn't stop
smiling. "He wears it to drive the girls crazy." 

 Debbie eyed him a moment, her eyes a little more narrow, as if the words
surprised her. Then she relaxed and nodded, "Let me know if there's
anything I can do, Fraser. Just bring it to the front and I'll hold it for
you. Ray, nice to meet you." 

 "Yeah, you, too." 

 As soon as she went back to the front counter, Ray turned to Fraser.
"What was that about? She acted like I farted or something." 

 "I think she was startled by your statement in reference to my trying to
make the girls crazy by wearing leather, which as you know, Ray, is hardly
the truth." 

 "Well, I can't say you wear it to turn me on." 

 Fraser shrugged. "Debbie is very astute about such things, Ray. I can't
say for sure, but I suspect she knows we're a couple." 

 Ray craned his neck and glanced at Debbie quickly and then back at
Fraser. "How?" 

 "As she mentioned, I have on occasion, told her about you." 

 "And you think she's figured it out by the way you talk about me?" 

 "I wouldn't be surprised if there were the case." 

 Ray took off the jacket and put his own coat back on, wondering if he
should be pissed or flattered. He decided on the latter with reservations.
"You know if we're going to get through this without everyone in the world
knowing about us, we've got to be a little more careful." 

 "I doubt Debbie is going to rush out and announce it, Ray." 

 "Well, no, probably not, but if she can work it out, what do you think a
room full of cops will do?" 

 Fraser tugged on his ear nervously. "Your point is well taken, though I
must confess I find it difficult to hide my feelings about you, especially
now that I know that the affection is returned." 

 Ray touched the hand down by his side. "It's more than affection,
Fraser." 

 Fraser squeezed Ray's hand in return. "Understood." 

 Ray closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he reluctantly released
Fraser's hand. "So, I guess handholding in public is probably not a good
idea, either, huh?" 

 "Unfortunately, I have to agree." 

 "Okay, okay, let's focus on getting done here. The jacket's great, but
let's see if they've got anything heavier." 

 "I've already checked, Ray, and there's nothing even close to what we
need here." 

 "Well, hell, I can't complain. We made a great haul. I'll have to come
back when I want summer stuff." 

 "Indeed. They have quite a diverse selection as the seasons change." 

 "I guess we should check out then." As he walked a few steps, Ray
stopped. "Oh, that's nice. Look at this." Ray held up a blue wool, cable
knit sweater that not only looked handmade, but almost new. 

 "It matches your eyes, Ray. It's lovely." 

 "Yeah, I like it, and damn, it's only $15. Jesus, I can't believe these
prices. Let's see if they've got some turtlenecks and we'll be done for
the day." Fraser paused, his face suddenly serious. He remained silent as
Ray quickly found three cotton turtlenecks to wear under his sweater,
blue, grey, and black. Ray turned. "That should do it." 

 "I've rarely seen you wear turtlenecks, Ray." 

 Self-consciously, Ray fingered the scar at his throat. "Never really
needed to." 

 "You don't need to now." 

 "It's a good deal on the shirts. Forget about it. Let's just go home." 

 "As you wish." 

 Ray gritted his teeth, knowing that tone too well, that tone that said
Fraser needed to talk more even if Ray had no desire to hear it.  

 Ray dropped to the sofa, the floor and table littered with the shopping
bags. "I don't know how women do this shit." 

 "Do what, Ray?" 

 "Shop. No wonder they talk about shopping till you fucking drop." 

 "Perhaps you should lie down and rest." 

 Closing his eyes, Ray let his head drop back. "Might sack out right here.
I'm too tired to move. God, I'm out of shape." 

 A pillow and blanket appeared out of nowhere. "Stretch out. I'll take
Dief for a short walk before I sort through the purchases and start
supper." 

 Following orders, Ray allowed Fraser to help him take off his boots and
then lie down on the sofa, relaxing, getting warm again. Eyes still shut,
he listened to the rustle of bags and the quiet movements of his partner
as he left with the wolf. 

 Rolling on his back, he opened his eyes to stare morosely at the ceiling.
Suddenly tense, he sat up and rubbed his face. Being alone made him
uneasy, almost anxious. He banged his forehead with his cast. "Stupid,
stupid, stupid." 

 Ray took a deep breath and pushed away the creepy thoughts pushing in
from all around, Clooney's face, the pain, the blood. Gulping down his own
panic, he stood up and went to the kitchen. He ran the cold water and
splashed his face, his stubble burning his fingers. The fear edged back a
little as he focused on Fraser, made himself think about his lover's
return, his strong arms, his warm voice. He needed all that, wanted it
now, but forced himself to wait, to not run out in the street and make a
big fool of himself hunting down Fraser. After a few moments, he managed
to sit down at the table without shaking too badly. He held himself
tightly and gritted his teeth as he waited, hoping like hell Dief wouldn't
take fucking forever to do what he had to do. Damn wolf played too fucking
much. 

 After a little while, he heard a whisper outside the door. "Now don't be
unreasonable. You know you always enjoy staying with Francesca. And now
that she has Ante..." A yip interrupted. "What? No, it's only two weeks,
and, yes, I know it'll be Christmas, but that can't be helped." A short
whine overlapped the sound of the key in the lock. "Yes, of course, I'll
bring you back some pemmican." 

 As Fraser entered, he stopped and stared at Ray still seated at the
table. "Ray? I thought you were going to rest. Are you all right?" 

 "Fine. You been talking to Dief in public the whole time you were gone?" 

 Slipping the key in his pocket, he closed the door and Dief headed to the
table, nosing his face against Ray's leg. Ray petted the thick fur as
Fraser removed his coat and hat and put them in the closet. "I was trying
to explain to him why it's not feasible for him to go with us to Canada,
but being a wolf, he does tend to be a bit stubborn." 

 Ray smiled and let the wolf lick his face a few times before he pushed
him away. Reluctantly, the wolf stopped, but instead of moving to the
living room, he settled at his feet under the table. Fraser frowned as he
came to the kitchen and filled the pot to boil some water. "Are you sure
you're not ill? You look pale." 

 Shrugging, Ray took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Took me a minute, but
I'm okay. I just got a little panicky, that's all. At least I didn't end
up buck naked and checking for blood this time." 

 Fraser sat beside him, his face concerned. "What happened?" 

 "Seems like every time I get a free minute, my mind gets a mind of its
own. Spooky shit comes out of nowhere. But I didn't let it get to me this
time. I didn't forget where I was, didn't lose my place and get all
wacky." Ray lifted his eyes to Fraser's. "I just thought about you and it
wasn't as scary." 

 "We overdid it this afternoon. I should've brought you home sooner." 

 "No, I'm okay, Fraser. Honest. Didn't you get the part when I said I
didn't freak out?" 

 Fraser paused, licking his lower lip as he studied Ray's face as if
searching for clues or deception. "I'm sorry. I just worry." 

 "I know." Ray sat back, sighing, his whole body complaining at once. "I'm
really tired. Think I'll sleep for a little while." 

 "You should take your medication first." 

 "Anybody ever told you, you should've been a nurse?" 

 Fraser fetched the pills, his face solemn and his tone deadly serious.
"Actually, I'd rather someone kick me in the head." 

 Ray chuckled. "I hear that." 

 Handing him the medicine, Fraser got him a glass of water before he sat
down again. "Ray, I didn't mean to suggest that I mind taking care of
you." 

 Ray took his pills and gulped down all the water before he wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand. "I know that, Fraser." 

 "It's just that being a nurse or any other medical professional takes a
kind of patience and resilience I doubt I could muster for a lifetime
commitment." 

 "So, you'd rather chase scumbags and get shot at than empty bedpans and
clean up puke? Gee, why doesn't that surprise me? Join the club. I'd
rather get a bullet to the skull than deal with sick people all day. Hell,
I don't even like dealing with me when I'm sick. I'd be fired before I
even got started." 

 "Oh, I doubt that. I think you'd do very well as a nurse or any other job
you chose to do." 

 Ray shook his head, suddenly even more exhausted and a little dizzy.
"Thanks, but no thanks. Nursing ain't my thing, never will be. If I never
see another hospital or doctor, it'll be too soon." He stood up slowly,
bracing himself against the table, careful not to step on Dief. "Look,
I'll get some shut eye and then we'll talk about whether we really want to
leave Dief at the Vecchios over Christmas." 

 "Ray, even without quarantine requirements, he'd have to be in a crate
from 12 to 48 hours, depending on flight delays for bad weather. While
pressurized, the baggage compartment is dark and not very comfortable." 

 "I don't suppose you could pull some Mountie strings so he could ride
with us or something?" 

 "No, Ray, I'm sorry." 

 Ray glanced down at Dief who watched them both with big, sad wolfie eyes.
"Sorry, buddy, but he's right. You're better off whooping it up with Ante
than coming with us this time. Maybe in the spring." 

 "Don't make promises, Ray. We don't know how long we'll get to stay
then." 

 "I know, I know. I just hate thinking about leaving him behind." 

 "He'll be fine. He'll complain like always, but he'll be petted and
treated better than when he's with us. You know how Francesca dotes on
him." 

 "And how he's a dolt around Frannie." 

 "That, too." 

 Dief barked in protest. 

 "Sorry, boy, but you know it's true. If you were human, you'd go after
her like nobody's business." Ray laughed to himself. 

 "What?" 

 "I was just thinking about how it's weird him being a straight wolf and
we're both, well, you know." Fraser's lip quivered as he fought down a
smile. "What? Please don't tell me the wolf swings both ways, too." 

 "Then I guess I shouldn't mention that one dog up in Whitehorse." 

 "Oh, God, Dief, Dief, I don't want to think about it." 

 Fraser piped in. "Well, he was a fine husky male, the leader of a
champion sled team." 

 "Nobody said the wolf didn't have taste." 

 "I should hope not." 

 Ray scratched his head, the humor fading. "Sorry, but I've got to sack
out. I feel like someone's punching bag all of a sudden." 

 "Then go lie down. I'll wake you for supper in a few hours." 

 "You think it'll take a couple of hours to cook?" 

 "No, I need to do laundry, too." 

 Even more tired thinking about Fraser working so hard, Ray shook his head
as he walked toward the bedroom. "You know where to find me." 

 Fraser smiled warmly. "Indeed, I do."	

 Ray woke up slowly and rolled over, his body still achy and hung over
from so much activity earlier in the day. He groaned as he sat up and
slipped his legs off the side of the bed, his thigh complaining. He rubbed
the muscle around it to lessen the pain and then stood up. Suddenly dizzy,
he sat back down again quickly, holding his head. He waited a few moments
for the faintness to pass before trying again. As he walked out of the
bedroom, he saw Fraser standing there ironing his new clothes, all now
pressed and either folded or hanging up. "There you go, Fraser, ironing
again. What's with that?" 

 Fraser glanced up and finished the collar on his grey flannel shirt.
"It's a pleasure to use such a fine appliance." He zapped the shirt with a
quick hiss of steam. "I grew up having to heat the iron on the stove, and
at the Consulate they only have the most rudimentary of irons available
for personal use. This is so much easier." 

 "You're kidding, right? You like ironing?" 

 "I find it very restful." 

 "Restful?" 

 "Yes. It gives me time to think." 

 "Think? Think about what?" 

 "Many things." As Fraser put the shirt on a hanger, he studied Ray. "I've
made some bark tea." 

 "I'd rather have coffee." 

 "I know, but it's after eight and you don't really need the caffeine." 

 Ray ran a hand over his head and then sat down at the table. "Why'd you
let me sleep so long?" 

 "You needed it. I'll have dinner served in just a few moments. Would you
like the tea or something else?" 

 "Just give me some water." 

 "What about some milk?" 

 Ray closed his eyes, his temper rising. "Why bother to ask me if you're
going to keep offering other stuff?" 

 "I'm sorry." 

 The hurt tone kicked him in the gut. "No, Fraser, I'm sorry. Here you are
out here slaving away to make things better for me and I'm being an ass." 

 "You're just a little irritable. That's to be expected." 

 "You don't have to be so fucking understanding all the time. You could
just smack me or something when I get a smart mouth. How the hell can you
put up with my shit without even getting just a little pissed off?" 

 Fraser stood there, his voice quiet. "Because I love you." 

 "That doesn't mean you have to take shit, Fraser. I love you, too, but I
tell you when you do stuff that makes me crazy. I just need to do it
without being such an asshole about it." 

 Fraser paused and then nodded as he stepped to the oven. "Yes, that would
be appreciated, Ray." 

 "So, you think I'm a prick, huh?" 

 Using oven mitts, Fraser took out the casserole and put it on the trivet
at the table. He talked softly as he worked to serve the meal. "You know,
Ray, your language is your own choice, but why do you continue to use
profanity when you know it bothers me?" 

 Ray pulled back, surprised. "Well, fuck, Fraser." He stopped and
swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I guess it's just habit. I was good before,
well, before you know, and I guess I just stopped worrying about it. I'll
try to do better. I know you don't like it when I cuss." 

 Fraser got the salad from the refrigerator and sat down at his place at
the table. "I'd appreciate that, Ray. I know it's difficult for you. It's
part of your culture, but sometimes it can be rather offensive." 

 Reluctantly, Ray agreed that his bad mouth needed reining in. "I'll try,
Fraser. That's all I can promise." As soon as Fraser finished spooning out
the lasagna, he leaned over a little. "Can I still talk dirty sometimes
though?" 

 Fraser dropped the spoon and flushed red, but smiled as he teased back.
"You're incorrigible, Ray." 

 "If that means I'm a bad influence, well, yeah, no argument there. So,
can I still talk dirty?" 

 "During intimate occasions, yes, I'd have no argument with that." 

 Ray picked up his water glass in a toast. "Okay, here's to me turning
over a new leaf, or tongue, as the case might be." 

 Fraser tapped his own water glass with Ray's. "Thank you." 

 "Good, now what kind of dressing do we have?" 

 "I made some fresh ranch, or there's some bottled Thousand Island." 

 "Ranch it is." Fraser handed him the dressing and then proceeded to eat
his salad along with his meal. Ray picked at his food a while and managed
a few bites before he leaned forward and asked, "So, what else is bugging
you besides the language and me flying off the handle and being a bastard
sometimes?" 

 Fraser glanced up, but then put his fork down and wiped his mouth. "I
can't really say there's anything in particular that's bugging me, Ray, at
least nothing intentional." 

 "Nothing intentional? What's that mean? I'm doing something unintentional
that bothers you?" 

 "You're not eating." 

 "I'm eating." Ray stabbed at the pasta and put a big bite in his mouth.
He chewed and then swallowed, making a big show of his efforts. "See?" 

 "Ray, you know what I mean. I know you've never had a big appetite, but
now it's essential for your health that you get proper nourishment. I
don't think it's anything you do on purpose, but if you want me to be
honest, that's what's worrying me." 

 "You think I'm too skinny? Well, hell, Fraser, I've always been skinny. I
told you that. Ever since I was a kid I've had to eat twice as much as
anybody else just to keep up. It's not something I can do anything about."


 "I understand that, Ray, but you're not an ignorant man. You've heard the
doctors say you need to eat more to get well." 

 Ray tensed, suddenly more defensive. "I'm doing the best I can." 

 Fraser voice stayed very soft, very calm. "I'm not saying you're not,
Ray. I'm just concerned. I've tried very hard to go out of my way to make
dishes that will help with the weight gain, but I can only do so much. I
can't force feed you and make you drink the supplements. That's all up to
you." 

 "You think I'm just being stubborn?" 

 "I don't know. Are you?" 

 "I don't mean to be. I'm just not hungry." 

 "I understand that, Ray, I do. I remember times in my own life when
depression robbed me of my appetite as well, but as an officer in the
service, I knew I had to maintain my health." 

 "You've got a lot of discipline, Fraser." 

 "As do you." 

 Ray snorted and shook his head. "Come on, I know you love me, but you're
not blind. Discipline isn't something that comes easy for me." 

 "You're wrong, Ray. You can't be the fine officer you are and not have
the self-discipline I've seen first hand. You couldn't box or work out the
way you do, if you didn't care about your body and your health." 

 "I do those things because I have to." 

 Fraser sat back, puzzled. "I don't understand." 

 "I box, dance, work out, all that stuff because it takes me out of my
head. It's got nothing to do with discipline. It's about survival." 

 "And I think that's my point. You need to eat to survive." 

 Ray closed his eyes briefly, reluctantly accepting the truth and power of
his partner's words. "You're right." 

 "Does that mean you'll at least try to make more of an effort to eat
better?" 

 "Sure. I guess. I'll give it a try." 

 "That certainly relieves some of my worry, Ray." 

 Without answering, Ray turned his attention back to the meal. He ate
slowly, but managed to eat most of the pasta and salad. He couldn't,
however, eat any cheesecake. "Enough. Another bite and I'll throw up." 

 Fraser stood to clear the table, but stopped. He walked around the table
to stand beside Ray and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing his
cheek. "Thank you." 

 "I really don't want to worry you." 

 "I know." 

 "All I can do is try." 

 "And I appreciate it." After another quick kiss, Fraser ran the water for
the dishes. 

 Ray got up and helped, wrapping the leftovers and putting them away.
After a few moments, he whispered, "Is that really all you want, Fraser,
for me to eat and not cuss?" 

 Fraser stopped working and turned around to face him. "A better question
might be what do you want from me?" 

 "I've got everything I need from you. You love me and take care of me.
What more could I want?" 

 "More trust." 

 "Trust? Are you saying you don't trust me?" 

 "I have trouble trusting anyone, Ray. It's not you." 

 "That's bull and you know it. I trust you, but you're saying you don't
trust me? How does that work? How can you love me and not trust me?" 

 Fraser kept his voice steady, not rising to meet Ray's anger. "I love you
more than life, Ray. Please, don't ever question that." 

 "Then why don't you trust me?" 

 "I do, mostly." 

 "There you go again, with the mostly stuff, never completely." 

 "I think you know the answer, Ray." 

 "Fuck." Ray shook his head defiantly, and didn't apologize for the
profanity. Instead, he swallowed hard and tried to put himself in Fraser's
position, tried to get into his head like he'd done before. "So, you can't
trust me because you got messed over by Victoria and that Bullweather
guy?" 

 "I want to trust you completely, Ray. That's one of the reasons I'm
seeing Dr. Reese." 

 "You can talk to him about it, but not me?" 

 "I find your easy temper difficult to deal with at times. I need to be
able to say what I'm feeling without fear that you'll take it personally
or get angry." 

 "Take it personally? Why the hell should I do that, just because the man
I love doesn't fucking trust me? Damn it, Fraser, this sucks." 

 "I know, Ray. I'm sorry." 

 "And don't fucking apologize. Jesus. I hate it when you do that. You feel
like you feel. And in my head, I know it's not about me, I know that. I
just hate knowing that you don't trust me even when I know why." 

 "Please, don't be angry, Ray. I do love you and trust you more than
anyone else, even more than myself." 

 Stepping closer, Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser and pulled him close.
"Sorry about the language, but you gave me a right hook out of nowhere. I
wasn't thinking." He controlled his voice as he hugged Fraser and rested
his head on his shoulder. "You got issues, I got issues, we both need
shrinks." 

 Fraser chuckled as he returned the embrace. "And yet overall, we're both
fairly well-adjusted considering." 

 "Considering we're both fucked." 

 "Indeed."  

 Lying together in bed, Ray relaxed against Fraser, his fingers slowly
petting and stroking the arm that held him. "So, when do you see Reese
again?" 

 The arm tensed slightly. "Not until we come back from Canada." 

 "Why so long?" 

 "It was difficult to work in another appointment before we left." 

 Ray nuzzled up against him, closing his eyes. "You going to be okay until
then?" 

 "I'll be fine, Ray. I've been dealing with a lot of these problems for a
long time. A few more weeks won't make much difference. In addition, I'm
doing what Dr. Reese suggested about the journal and other exercises." 

 "What other exercises?" 

 "He suggested I write down a list of goals and expectations both about
the therapy and about my relationship with you." 

 "He did, huh? Anything else?" Fraser hesitated and cleared his throat.
Ray lifted his head and looked at his suddenly nervous partner. "What?" 

 "Well, it's rather personal, and I have to admit that of the things he
told me to try, I'm having the most difficulty in managing it." 

 Ray stroked his cheek gently, his voice more soft. "What?" 

 "He wanted me to look in the mirror each day and say at least five things
I like about myself that have nothing to do with my profession. I have to
confess, I'm having trouble coming up with even one or two." 

 Shaking his head, Ray lay back against Fraser. "He expects you to talk to
yourself about yourself? That's weird." 

 "I believe it's about making self affirmations as a form of positive
reinforcement. It's part of the general belief that in behavior
modification techniques, one must rewrite one's personal script to change
one's self perception. It's not enough to think about it, but one must
make a conscious and vocal effort to change what one's been trained to
think before." 

 "So, basically, you're supposed to talk yourself out of feeling down on
yourself." 

 "Basically, yes." 

 "And you're having trouble because?" 

 "I'm not sure." 

 "Come on, Fraser. Tell me. You're bound to know why it makes you sweat." 

 "I never said it made me sweat. It just makes me very uncomfortable." 

 "You've got no problem talking to a deaf wolf and a dead guy. Why is this
different?" 

 "Perhaps you should try it yourself and see how easy it is." 

 The tone came out snippy and Ray pulled away. Sitting up, he leaned back
against his pillows. "Just tell me to butt out, Fraser. You don't have to
get pissed." 

 "I'm not." 

 "Sounds like it. Sounds like this thing hits a nerve. What? You having
trouble coming up with five things you like about yourself?" 

 "Can you come up with five things you like about yourself?" 

 "Good point, but we're not talking about me." 

 "Of course not, that would be too much to expect, Mr. Independence. You
can tell me I'm being silly, but you won't even attempt to open yourself
up to a therapist. I am trying, Ray, but it's difficult." 

 Eyes narrowed. "First of all, I never said you were being silly. Those
words did not come out of my mouth, so just forget about it. As for being
Mr. Independence, that's a crock and you know it. I need you, need you
more than I want to need you sometimes. Most of all, I think it's great
that you're trying to get better, but if you don't want to talk about it,
that's fine. If you think it's none of my business, just say so, and I'll
shut up about it. I just thought I might be able to help. I mean, I can
think of plenty of good stuff about you that's got nothing to do with you
being a Mountie." 

 Fraser's posture relaxed and he eased in closer to Ray, putting his head
on his chest, his breath warm against Ray's skin. "I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to imply that I thought my therapy was none of your concern. I'll try
to answer any question you have. It's just that most things come easily to
me, but I've found this kind of self-examination to be somewhat of a
trial, far more than I expected. I didn't mean to take that anxiety out on
you." 

 Ray held him and fingered his hair as Fraser pulled the covers up over
them. "It's okay. It's scary stuff. I get that." He paused. "So, what did
you come up with for your list so far?" 

 "I love Ray." 

 "That's on your list?" 

 "It's the best thing about me." 

 "You're a nut, you know that?" 

 "I don't think it's crazy to love you, Ray." 

 "No, no, you wouldn't, and you're damn good at it." 

 "Thank you kindly." 

 "So, what else?" 

 "I stalled after that." 

 "What about being kind?" 

 "I'm not always as kind as I should be." 

 Ray shook his head, wanting to meet up with all the thoughtless shits who
made Fraser so incredibly down on himself. "You're the kindest person I've
ever met, Fraser. You're even nice to the scumbags." 

 "That's merely being polite." 

 "Well, add it to the list, because you're polite as hell." 

 "Why do you say that like it's a bad thing, Ray?" 

 "I'm not, it's just not my thing. I mean, I've been trying harder, but
it's not as easy as it looks." 

 Fraser chuckled. "Yes, it does sometimes take practice." 

 "Add it to the list then. Plus, you're a great lover." 

 Turning dark red, Fraser protested, "I can't say that." 

 "Why not? It's true. You give the best blowjobs in the world." 

 "Well, Ray, that's not exactly something one could prove with such a
limited sample." 

 Ray hugged him harder and kissed the top of his head. "You're the only
sample I need. Add it to the list." 

 "I have to say the list for Dr. Reese. I don't think I'd be comfortable."


 "Then have a public and private list, one for him and one for us." 

 "That might be possible." 

 "Okay, good, good, also you can add generous. You'd give your coat off
your back to someone who needed it. Hell, I've seen you do it." 

 "That's just being a charitable person, Ray." 

 "Yeah, but that's a good thing, so add it to the damn list along with
being a good provider. I mean, you cook and clean and take care of me like
I've never been cared for. Plus, you're honest. You tell the truth even
when it hurts like hell and that's not easy. You've got a good heart, too,
and you love animals and children and old people. You'd give up your life
to catch a litterbug. Oh, oh, and you're smart, too. I never knew anybody
who knows all the stuff you know. It's pretty amazing. I think you'd make
a great teacher. And you're tolerant, Fraser. You respect people and their
different cultures and choices. I mean, how can you have trouble thinking
of just five good things when there are a ton of good things to choose
from?" 

 "I suppose because I don't always see myself as you see me, Ray. And
thank you." 

 Ray sighed and held him closer. "You're welcome. You know, if I could
meet up with the people who did this to you, you know I'd kick'em in the
head for you, right?" 

 "No one did anything, Ray." 

 "Fraser, I think that's what they call denial. I was in therapy long
enough to get that much." 

 "Possibly, but I can't blame other people for my own shortcomings. I'm an
adult and, therefore, responsible for my own feelings and behaviors." 

 "To a point, that's true, but face it, we're all products of our
upbringing. Sure we can break the patterns, like the homophobia stuff with
my Dad, but that doesn't mean we're free and clear of all that baggage
piled on along the way, and, Fraser, my friend, you have a shit load of
baggage." 

 "No more than you, I fear." 

 "Yeah, I know. Stella." 

 "And Clooney." 

 Ray closed his eyes, his throat tight. "Anyway, now we've got each other
and it's bound to get easier, right? Please tell me it gets easier,
Fraser." 

 "It gets easier, Ray." 

 "That the truth?" 

 "As I see it, yes." 

 Ray slipped down further under the covers, holding Fraser as close as he
could, his whole body warm with the contact. "Good enough for me. Let's
get some sleep and you can do that taking to the mirror thing first thing
in the morning." 

 "I'm supposed to do that by myself, Ray." 

 "I know, I know. I'll just be there in case you need a little nudge." 

 "A nudge from time to time is greatly appreciated." 

 "I nudge, you nudge, we'll get through this stuff together, partners, a
duet, a team, you and me. Got that?" 

 "Yes, Ray, partners." 

 "You bet." 

 "No need when it's a sure thing."  

 Ray picked at the band-aid on the inside of his right elbow as he waited
for Dr. Barnes. He scanned the room but already had the place memorized,
every chart, stupid poster, and tiny crack in the wall. He could pick it
out of a line up, no problem. Patience worn thin, he sighed again as he
dangled his legs off the exam table. A shuffle at the outside of the door
alerted him and he sat up straighter, putting on his best game face,
hoping like hell the doctor had good news for a change. 

 Dr. Barnes walked in, scanning the notes on the chart and the lab
results. "Morning, Ray." 

 "Doc." 

 "I'm happy to say your white cell count is almost back to normal. Finish
that round of antibiotic and that should do it as far as the infection
goes." 

 "That's good news, then." 

 "It's excellent news. And I'm pleased to see you haven't lost more
weight." Barnes put the chart down and began examining the outside of
Ray's throat and then listened to his heart and lungs. He took his blood
pressure again even though the nurse took it earlier. When he finished, he
nodded, but didn't look that happy. "Heart and lungs sound good, but your
blood pressure's a little low. That's new." 

 "I thought low was good." 

 "Depends on how low it is. Have you had any sudden weakness or
dizziness?" 

 "Not really." 

 "What does that mean, not really?" 

 "Well, when I first get up, I sometimes get dizzy, but I figured that's
just all this stuff I'm taking." 

 "You could be right. Did you stop taking the Percocet in combination with
the Phenergan like I asked you to? 

 Ray thought about lying, but decided against being stupid for the moment.
He didn't look up, but just shrugged. "No, I still take it when I need
it." 

 "Then that could account for the low blood pressure. I'd like you to stop
the Percocet until you finish the antibiotic and Phenergan. It's
important, Ray. I'll give you a prescription for Motrin, instead. That
should relieve any discomfort without lowering your pressure." 

 "Sure, okay, whatever. So, can I go now?" 

 Barnes shook his head as he put on latex gloves. "Not quite. I need to
check your thigh and other wounds." 

 "Right, right, knock yourself out." 

 Barnes pushed apart Ray's thighs and slowly peeled back the bandage. He
frowned as he pushed around the outer edges of the wound area. "Have you
noticed any swelling or discomfort, any discharge?" 

 "Some twinges every now and then. It's better than it was, not as red." 

 "Uhm." 

 "What's that mean, uhm?" 

 "It means I'm disappointed that this isn't healing faster. You might
think it's better, but not as much as it should be." 

 "That mean more antibiotic cream?" 

 "Yes, and you'll need to keep it bandaged a while longer." 

 Ray fought down his urge to say fuck and bit his lower lip. "How much
longer?" 

 "I can't really say. It should be healed by now." 

 "How come it's not?" 

 Barnes cleaned and prepared his leg before applying a new bandage as he
talked. "Location, size, any number of reasons. It's taking a little
longer than expected to heal, but I've seen worse. Deep leg wounds can be
stubborn. Give it more time. You just need to rest, eat more, and take
your medications." 

 "And the leg will be okay?" 

 "It should be, in time. Just avoid overdoing it, no hiking or long walks.
I'm not saying no exercise, but just be reasonable. The more you do with
that leg, the longer it'll take to heal." 

 "But it's okay for me to go to Canada on Saturday, right?" 

 Barnes replaced his gloves with new ones and then proceeded to inspect
each of Ray's wounds on his shoulder, back, and belly. "You know what I
think about that, Ray, but it's up to you. I suppose as long as you're
careful, it should be fairly safe. Just be sure to pick up the file I had
copied to take with you before you leave in case of an emergency." 

 "Sure, I can do that. Can I go now?" 

 "In a few minutes. I need to ask about a few more things." 

 Ray didn't like the sound of that one bit. "What things?" 

 "Your red blood cell count is still a little low. Are you taking the iron
tablets I prescribed?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "Had any bleeding with your stools?" 

 "No." Jeez, he hated talking about that. "I told you before, I'm going
fine, no problem, just a little sore." 

 "I'm still worried about the low iron. Just keep taking the supplements
and when you get back from Canada, I want you in here to check again. If
it's still low, we need to find out why." 

 "And how do we do that?" 

 "More tests." 

 Fuck. "But I feel fine." 

 Barnes crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "You're
better, Ray, much better, but you're not quite fine yet. Take your
vacation, but I want to see you again within a few days of your return. I
hope to see a huge improvement, and a weight gain would be nice, too." 

 "You want a bow on that for Christmas?" 

 "I'm Jewish, so that won't be necessary. It's a nice thought though,
thanks. No, Ray, what I want from you is for you to use common sense so
you can recover. When you go to Canada, just get cozy and rest." 

 "I plan to." 

 "No dogsleds or snowshoe races then?" 

 "None that I know of, no." 

 "Good. Any questions or problems I should know about before you leave?" 

 "No. Can I go now?" 

 "You can go now." Barnes paused and smiled. "Have a good time, Ray. Just
be careful." 

 "Thanks, I will." 

 As soon as Barnes left, Ray hopped off the table and almost ended up face
down on the floor. He grabbed the nearby stool and sat down, cursing under
his breath as he waited for the dizziness to pass. After a few moments, he
grabbed his jeans and slipped them on quickly. Then he put on his boots
and black turtleneck, before snatching his leather jacket from the rack. 

 At the check out, the nurse handed him a packet and his new prescription.
"Dr. Barnes wants you to make an appointment." 

 "Think I'll wait until I get back from Canada." 

 "You might want to go ahead and set it up now, Detective. You need to get
the lab work before your appointment. It's easier to arrange those things
if we do them together now." 

 Glancing over at Fraser in the waiting room, Ray nodded as he ran a hand
through his hair. "Okay, okay." He made the appointment, handed her the
co-payment for his visit, and then headed out to pick up Fraser. On the
way out, he waited impatiently for Fraser to finish explaining an Inuit
tradition to the little boy and woman next to him. 

 Fraser stood and put on his hat, tipping it with a short farewell before
he headed over to Ray. His deep blue eyes searched Ray's face with
concern. "I hope things went well." 

 "Yeah, yeah, Fraser, fine and dandy. Let's get out of this place." 

 "Certainly." 

 Outside in the corridor, Ray hit the elevator button, not once, but three
times. When he went for a fourth, Fraser turned and whispered, "Ray,
what's wrong?" 

 "Nothing, nothing. I just don't like this place. Gives me the creeps,
almost as much as the hospital." 

 "Abusing the button won't make the elevator come any faster." 

 Ray pushed it again for good measure. "I know that. It's just easier to
do than stand around waiting. You know I hate waiting." 

 "Oh, yes, Ray, I'm well aware of your impatience." 

 "It's not like I can help it. I hate wasting time. I hate that I have to
keep coming back here. I'm fine. The guy gets on my nerves making me come
back when I shouldn't have to." 

 The elevator pinged and they got on, Fraser staring at Ray for a few
moments, before he asked again, "What's wrong?" 

 "Nothing. Quit asking." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Fraser, I said quit it. I mean it." 

 "Understood." The quiet lasted until the got out on the first floor and
they were halfway 
 to the car. "Ray, did Dr. Barnes do something to upset you?" 

 Sighing deeply, Ray kept walking, his head pounding. "Nothing happened,
Fraser. I'm just tired. Let's go get something to eat and some coffee.
Then we can go pick up some stuff for the trip. You know we're leaving
Saturday." 

 Reaching the car, Fraser unlocked Ray's door and then walked around to
his side. "I picked up the tickets yesterday, Ray. I know very well when
we're leaving." 

 "Good, Fraser, that's good." 

 Ray got in the car and slammed the door. He crossed his arms, wishing he
could drive and peel out down to the highway. A fast drive alone would
clear his head. Speed and a long road, that would make it all better, more
focused without all the shit piling in on him for no good reason. 

 "Ray?" 

 Ray closed his eyes, his body all jumpy from the inside out. "What?" 

 "Where would you like to eat?" 

 "I don't care. You pick." 

 "Why don't we just go home and I'll fix you something there?" 

 "Sure, fine, whatever. Let's just go." He rubbed his forehead and kept
his eyes shut. 

 A hand touched his cheek and he jerked away, shaking, his head hitting
the window. "Fuck. Don't do that." 

 Looking wounded, Fraser pulled back his hand. "What's wrong?" 

 "Sorry, sorry, I wasn't expecting it." Ray shook his head, pushing back
all the bad memories rushing in, the sudden image of another hand touching
him. He shivered and cleared his throat, a deep chill settling in his
chest. "I'm sorry, Fraser, I really am. I just wasn't ready." 

 "No, Ray, I'm sorry. I could see you were upset. I wasn't thinking." 

 "I was upset, but it's got nothing to do with you. I'm just feeling
hemmed in. I didn't mean to jump like that. It just scared me for a
minute." 

 "I know, Ray. I'll be more careful." 

 Suddenly angry, Ray hit the dash. "You shouldn't have to be more careful,
Fraser. It's not fair, it's not right, and it sure as hell ain't normal." 

 "It's all right, Ray." Fraser touched his shoulder lightly and squeezed.
"Calm down." 

 "What's wrong with me, Fraser? I'm a head case half the time. I like you
touching me, always have, and here I am acting like you scalded me or
something. And I get so pissed about nothing, irritated about stupid shit.
I don't understand what's going on." 

 "Those are all symptoms of a bigger problem, Ray. I can get you some
literature about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder if you think it would
help." 

 Ray met worried blue eyes, his own gut clenched. "You think it might?" 

 "I think it might, yes. I think if you see that others often have similar
reactions to trauma, it might make you feel less like a 'head case' as you
call it." 

 "Okay, okay, then I guess I should read some." Ray paused, his voice
strained. "I hate feeling so out of control here, Fraser, like I'm going
to fly apart any minute. I feel stupid and angry and like I'm going out of
my mind." 

 "Let's go home, Ray. You'll feel better once you've eaten and had some
coffee." 

 "I'll feel better, but what about you? You're bound to be getting pretty
sick of all this." 

 Fraser leaned over and kissed him briefly on the lips and pulled back,
his voice a hush. "I love you, Ray. I'm sorry you're having problems, but
I'll never be sick of being with you. That's one thing you never have to
worry about." 

 Ray nodded and swallowed hard as Fraser started the car and slowly pulled
out in traffic, horns from other cars honking in protest. Closing his
eyes, Ray tried to relax as his partner drove the posted speed limits and
made everyone else crazy for a change.	

 "You know, Fraser, if you ever decide to give up Mountie life, you could
open up your own restaurant. People would flock from all over the place to
get grub like this." 

 Fraser looked up from his homemade chicken soup and smiled. "Thank you
kindly, Ray, but I don't see myself giving up the service. Though I must
confess, I do enjoy cooking." 

 "I do, too, sometimes, on special occasions. It's kind of neat looking
through cookbooks and trying to find just the right thing. Haven't had
much time for it lately, not since, well, since Stell and I broke up, but
still." Ray didn't finish the thought. He didn't want to think about all
the uneaten meals he'd made for Stella, all the fights they'd had because
she couldn't be bothered to show up on time, or call, or even come home
some nights. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I just wanted to say this is
pretty good soup." 

 "I'm glad you like it. Would you like another bowl? There's plenty." 

 "No, thanks, I'm full." 

 "More coffee?" 

 "Yeah, coffee would be good." 

 Fraser got up and served Ray coffee and himself more tea. After he
settled back in his chair, he sighed. "You should just stay in the rest of
the day, Ray. If we go out early tomorrow morning, that should give us
plenty of time to buy the gear we need and then pack for the trip." 

 "What about Dief? Don't we need to take him over to Frannie's tomorrow?" 

 "She's going to take us to the airport Saturday morning. She'll get him
then along with the keys so she can feed Turtle." 

 "Oh, okay. Then, yeah, if you want, that's fine. What do you want to do
the rest of the day?" 

 "I thought perhaps you could rest while I run a few errands." 

 Tensing, Ray sat straighter, the thought of being left alone still a bit
scary. "What kind of errands?" 

 "I need to stop by the Consulate and then I thought I'd see Lt. Welsh
before we left." 

 "I could go with you." 

 Fraser frowned. "Ray, you should rest. The Consulate visit is merely to
check on a few things with Turnbull before I leave. As for the station,
are you sure you're ready to go there yet?" 

 "Why wouldn't I be?" 

 "I just think it might be, well, a bit premature." 

 "Premature? Why? You think I'm going to freak out or something if Dewey
looks at me the wrong way? You think I'm going to start bawling or
something?" 

 "Not at all, Ray. I'm just concerned that you might be uncomfortable at
this stage." 

 "Why should I be uncomfortable, Fraser? Tell me that. You think I've got
something to be uncomfortable about?" The words got increasingly angry as
Ray stood and started pacing, his right hand running through his hair over
and over. "You think I got something to be ashamed about?" 

 "Ray, please, calm down. I didn't mean anything like that." 

 "Then what the fuck did you mean?" 

 Fraser stood and stepped closer, but didn't touch him. "I'm sorry, Ray. I
was just being overprotective. If you want to go with me, I'm more than
happy for you to be there." 

 Nodding, trying to control his temper, Ray wrapped his arms around
Fraser's middle. He swallowed several times before he could catch his
breath and be honest. "I don't want to be alone here." 

 "Understood." Fraser pulled back and caressed his cheek. "Let me clean up
the dishes and then we'll go." 

 "Sure, sure. I've got to go to the can. Be back in a minute." 

 As Fraser cleaned up the kitchen, Ray walked into the bathroom, closing
the door and resting his forehead against the cool tile. He wasn't ready
for the station, he knew that, but he couldn't stand the thought of being
in the apartment alone all afternoon, either. He picked up his Percocet
and took one along with the rest of his medicines. Sitting down on the
closed lid of the toilet, he squeezed his eyes shut and waited, waited for
his heart to stop pounding so fast and the pressure to ease out of his
body. He didn't want to act crazy, didn't want to make Fraser worry. It
didn't seem to matter much what the fuck he wanted these days. 

 After a few minutes, he got up and went into the bedroom. He picked up
his gun and strapped it on, the weight comforting under his left arm, the
tug of the leather across his back almost soothing. He'd missed that
feeling, the security, knowing that if he had to, he could defend himself,
not take shit from anybody. Hand shaking, he pulled the gun and held it
up, sighed deeply, and then holstered it. More confident, his muscles less
tight, he headed back out to the living room. 

 "Yes, I know, I'm concerned as well." 

 "You two talking about me, Fraser?" 

 Fraser turned, eyed the gun, but didn't mention it. "Diefenbaker wants to
go with us." 

 "Sure, and what are you two concerned about?" 

 "You should probably wear your sling. Your fingers are swelling." 

 Ray held up his cast and wiggled his fingers. "Not too bad. The sling
hurts my neck. Besides, I haven't worn it for the last week, no problem." 

 "I just don't want there to be complications." 

 "You worry too much." 

 "And you don't worry enough sometimes." 

 Ray snorted as he opened the closet and handed Fraser his coat before
getting his new leather jacket, the one Fraser altered for him last night.
"You worry enough for both of us, so why bother?" 

 "Ray, you know that's not true. I just don't want you to be careless
about your health." 

 "I know that, but let's just go out and do what we've got to do, okay?
And if I still feel perky, I'd like to try to get some of that gear today.
Just depends on how I'm feeling." 

 "We'll leave that option open. First, why don't we go to the post office?
You need to stop the mail delivery while we're gone." 

 "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. What about the paper?" 

 "I called this morning." 

 Ray leaned in, kissing Fraser briefly. "You're good, Fraser. Stick around
long enough, you might even get me organized." 

 Fraser whispered, "I plan to stick around a long time, Ray. I certainly
hope you enjoy the changes that might entail." 

 "Oh, I already like a bunch of changes, thank you very much." Ray kissed
him again, this time longer, his tongue probing in, Fraser's mouth soft
and yielding against his own. Pulling back, Ray let out a long sigh. "Save
that for later, buddy. We got things to do first." 

 "Right you are. We need to be practical." 

 "But not forever." 

 Fraser smiled. "No, Ray, not forever."  

 "Detective Vecchio, I'm so happy to see you." 

 Turnbull smiled that big, goofy grin of his and Ray nodded, warmed by his
kind nature. "Good to see you, too, Turnbull. Thanks for the chocolate
critters, by the way. They were great." 

 "You're very welcome. I'm quite gratified that you enjoyed them. What
brings you and Constable Fraser to the Consulate today?" 

 Fraser stepped closer. "I wanted to speak with Inspector Thatcher." 

 "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. She stepped out. However, she should be back by 1300
hours. May I take a message?" 

 "No, that won't be necessary. I'll just write a note and leave it on her
desk." He turned toward Ray. "Wait here. It won't take but a moment." 

 "Sure. No problem. Me and Turnbull here will shoot the breeze for a
while, talk about curling or something." 

 "Curling, Ray?" 

 "Sure, bonspiels and eight-enders, men with brooms and stuff. You know,
curling." 

 "Right you are." Fraser glanced over at Turnbull's rapt expression and
shook his head. "Carry on then." 

 As he walked away, Ray focused on Turnbull. "So, what's been going on
while Fraser's been away? Anything exciting?" 

 "I thought we were going to talk about curling, Detective." 

 "Call me Ray, and I just used up all the words I know about curling.
Don't know anything else. We could talk about baseball if you want, but
I'd rather know what's been happening around here. Any talk about Fraser
being gone? Any problems with his taking leave I should know about?" 

 Turnbull's expression changed, his eyes suddenly sad, his face more
serious than Ray could remember ever seeing before. "We all understand why
he needed to take leave, Ray. Even Inspector Thatcher has been
uncharacteristically supportive of his decision to be with you during your
difficult..." Turnbull hesitated, his face darkening as he struggled to
find the right word. 

 "Recovery?" 

 "Yes, your recovery." He cleared his throat, his voice tighter. "I can't
tell you how upset Constable Fraser was while you were in the hospital.
Perhaps I shouldn't say this, but he was beside himself with worry. Taking
off and being with you seems to have made a huge difference. I, for one,
am very glad to see your partnership working out so well." 

 Eyes stinging at the thought of a worried to death Fraser, Ray nodded.
"Yeah, yeah, we're doing pretty good, the two of us." Pausing, Ray leaned
in, his voice low. "Fraser might not say it, but I will. We appreciate
your support with this whole partnership thing, you know, not the official
partnership thing, but the new, unofficial partnership thing." 

 Turnbull's voice choked a little. "I'm very happy for you both, Ray.
Constable Fraser's a very lucky man to find someone like you, someone so
unique and vivacious. It's not easy to find someone compatible, regardless
of gender." 

 "Unique and vivacious? That's how you see me?" 

 Blushing bright red, Turnbull didn't get a chance to answer. Fraser and
Diefenbaker came back down the hallway and interrupted. "Ready to go,
Ray?" 

 "Sure, sure, but I thought you said you needed to talk to Turnbull." 

 "Oh, yes." Fraser nodded and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out
an envelope. "We wanted to give you this, Constable. We won't be here at
Christmas and I thought you could use these in our stead." 

 Puzzled, Turnbull opened the envelope and pulled out two tickets. "Oh, my
goodness. Thank you so much, sir." He shook his head in amazement. "How in
the world did you manage? Clint Black's concert has been sold out for
weeks." 

 Fraser tapped the side of his nose. "A friend of a friend. I was aware of
your fondness for country music and I thought that you might enjoy the
show. I do remember you singing his Christmas tunes last year." 

 "But, sir, I don't have anything for the two of you. I'm so sorry." 

 "Nonsense, Constable. We won't be able to use them and it would be a
shame to waste such a handsome opportunity." 

 "Indeed, it would, sir. Thank you again. I don't know what to say." 

 Ray piped in. "Just say, Merry Christmas, Ray and Fraser." 

 Turnbull stood up straighter, his smile back in place just as it should
be. "Merry Christmas, Ray and Constable Fraser, sir." 

 "Close enough." Ray patted him on the arm and then motioned to Dief and
Fraser. "Come on. Pitter, patter, let's get at her." 

 They headed out to the car and as Ray let Dief climb in the back, he
caught Fraser chuckling. "What?" 

 "Unique and vivacious, indeed." 

 "Mr. Bat Ears. What's wrong with unique and vivacious?" 

 "Not a thing, Ray. I think they're both quite apt descriptions. I just
can't imagine Turnbull being bold enough to say them out loud." 

 "Hey, Turnbull's okay. He's just needs somebody. We all do. Nothin' wrong
with that." 

 Fraser sobered. "No, Ray, there's nothing wrong with that." 

 Inside the car, Ray waited for Fraser to start the engine. "In fact, I
know this guy, Jimmy Fuches, he might like to meet a Mountie." 

 "Ray, Ray, Ray, please tell me you're not thinking about playing
matchmaker for Turnbull and this Mr. Fuches person." 

 "Why not? Turnbull would be a real catch for the right guy. I've got a
ton of girls who'd love him, but since you told me that he's not into
that, I'm a bit more limited. Still, I think Jimmy would like him." 

 Fraser started the car and pulled into traffic. He ignored the horns as
he argued. "But, Ray, it's been my experience that matchmaking can be
rather disastrous." 

 "Why? You ever done it?" 

 "No, but I remember on several occasions when others have tried and the
results have been, shall we say, less than blissful." 

 "Then you just ain't had the right people. I'm telling you, Turnbull
might like a little American blood and I know Jimmy's up for something
different. Nothing quite fits the bill like dating a Canadian, especially
a Mountie." 

 "Oh, really?" Stopped at a red light, Fraser looked over at his partner,
amused. "Why is dating a Canadian so different, Ray?" 

 "You're kidding, right? Americans and Canadians, we might live on the
same continent, but we ain't living in the same world most of the time and
don't get me started on the overall freakishness of Mounties." Ray's lips
curled into a grin. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining, not a bit.
Just thought I'd spread the joy a little." 

 Driving again, Fraser pondered the idea. "Perhaps I should meet this Mr.
Fuches first." 

 "Why's that? You don't trust my judgment?" 

 "Not at all, but I do feel something akin to responsibility for Turnbull.
I'd like to see if there's a potential for compatibility between them for
myself." 

 Ray snorted and shook his head. "You're such a control freak." 

 "Now, Ray, there's no need to resort to name-calling." 

 "You are. Besides, meeting Jimmy won't help. At first glance, he's as
weird in his own way as Turnbull. Get to know him and he's not so bad." 

 Fraser frowned. "And how well did you get to know him?" 

 Smirking, Ray looked over at Fraser. "Jealous much?" 

 "Not at all. I was just curious as to the nature of your relationship
with Mr. Fuches. I don't recall you mentioning him before." 

 "Probably because I haven't. He a guy I met on an undercover." 

 "By a guy, do you mean he was another police officer?" 

 "Not exactly." 

 "What exactly?" 

 "He was the artist who was forging paintings for this counterfeiting ring
I was after." 

 Fraser practically wrecked the car before he could pull it over to park.
"You want to introduce Turnbull to a criminal? What in the world are you
thinking?" 

 Looking all around at the heavy traffic, Ray complained in frustration.
"What the hell was that, Fraser? We could've been killed, could've been
rear ended. Frannie will kill us if we mess up this heap." 

 "Just answer the question." 

 "You're nuts." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Okay, okay." Ray took a deep breath and then explained before Fraser
blew a gasket. "Sure, Jimmy faked paintings, but he's a damn good artist
and he didn't know what they were doing with his stuff. He thought he was
being commissioned to make reproductions, which is perfectly legal. Sure,
we arrested him, but he wasn't charged and he testified against the guys
who ran the ring." 

 "So how do you know he's homosexual?" 

 "Ah." 

 Fraser shook his head in frustration. "Ray..." 

 "Now you know how I feel. Doesn't feel so hot, does it?" 

 "You're being outrageously obstinate." 

 "Stubborn, too. Anyway, I found out because he made a pass at me." 

 Fraser's face darkened. "And?" 

 "And nothing." Ray reached out and took Fraser's hand. "I told you
before, I didn't do anything with anyone except Stella and a few women I
kissed. Jimmy's just a nice guy who liked me, that's all. He's kind of
sweet and he's very talented. I saw those pictures Turnbull drew. They've
at least got that in common. They could go to museums and exchange drawing
tips or something." 

 Fraser pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and then stared
directly at Ray, his voice hushed. "I'm sorry, Ray. I don't know what came
over me." 

 "Green-eyed monster looked like." 

 "It's not a good feeling." 

 "No, but I get it, Fraser. It's just, you got nothing to be jealous of,
not with Jimmy or Stella or anyone else." Blue eyes twinkled. "Though
Turnbull sure is looking good in red these days." 

 Fraser shook his head and then released Ray's hand before starting the
car again. "That's just cruel, Ray. You'd eat the man alive. He wouldn't
last a day." 

 "Or night?" 

 "Not even close. Besides, you've got another man in uniform to contend
with." 

 "Contend with, huh?" 

 "Oh, yes, contend with. After we finish at the station, I'll give you a
demonstration." 

 "Hands on?" 

 Fraser's smile and the slight flick of his tongue wetting his lower lip
answered that question.  

 There were two kinds of people, people who walked up and shook a guy's
hand after he'd been seriously injured and came limping back around or the
people who did anything but look his way. They filed reports, interviewed
suspects, or slipped off to the break room for bad coffee and stale
doughnuts, anything but meet his eyes and do a face-to-face. Of course, if
they thought he wasn't looking, they'd chance a peek, checking out the
signs, looking for scars and any outward evidence of his brush with death.
Oh, yeah, there were two kinds of people and, therefore, two kinds of
cops. 

 "Ray, it's good to see you." Huey shook his hand, gripping with both his
own as he smiled. Meanwhile, Dewey headed the other way as fast as he
could, off to get something to drink, something to keep his mind off the
fact that it could've been him busted up just as easily as Ray. 

 "Hey, Huey. How's it hanging?" 

 "Heard you were up and about." Huey freed his hand and motioned toward
Welsh's office. "He's been a bear the last few days. Maybe a visit from
you will calm him down." 

 "Calm him down? Me? You've got to be kidding. More likely stir him up." 

 "Well, at least it'll give him someone else's ass to chew on." Huey
checked out Ray's rear. "Scrawny as it is." 

 Ray snorted and motioned toward Huey's behind. "He must be full from the
looks of yours. Been chewing regular looks like." 

 Fraser frowned, puzzled. "Ray, I'm not sure I follow." 

 "Never mind, Fraser." 

 "But..." 

 Huey laughed. "He's right, Fraser. Weak joke." His voice got lower, more
serious. "Heard you were going to Canada with Fraser here. That true?" 

 God, Frannie had a big mouth. "Yeah, we're heading out Saturday." 

 Nodding, Huey considered the answer as he glanced first at Fraser and
then Ray. "Okay, okay, do you mind if I ask you a personal question then?"


 Ray steeled himself as Fraser stood straighter, prepared for the worst.
"Depends. You can ask. Don't mean I got to answer if the question don't
suit me." 

 "Sure, I understand. I just wondered why in the world you'd go to Canada
this time of year. I mean, it's cold here in Chicago, but it's got to be a
bitch up north right now. Wouldn't it be better to go later on, say spring
or summer so you could enjoy the bears and moose and all those other
things you think about when you think about Canada? I mean, no offense,
Ray, but you look like a good puff of wind could blow you off your feet
right about now." 

 Relieved that he hadn't been asked about sleeping with Fraser, Ray just
shrugged and smiled. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, I've
only been there once, but that was during a case so it doesn't count, and
Fraser misses the place. It's only two weeks. How bad can it be?" 

 Fraser cleared his throat. Ray and Huey both turned his way. "Actually,
it's going to be on average twenty to thirty degrees below zero
Fahrenheit, with regular snowfall, and approximately two hours of daylight
each day." 

 Ray piped in. "Which translates to it being damn cold and dark most
days." 

 Huey shook his head in wonder. "Me, I go for warm and sunny. Sounds crazy
to want to visit some place where you can freeze your lily white ass off."


 Ray grinned. "Actually, Fraser's friend has this cabin where we're
staying. We're just going to relax. It'll be nice to get away from the
city, you know, just get away from doctors and shrinks and police shit for
a while. Fraser can walk around and enjoy the scenery and I can sit around
hogging the fireplace and hot chocolate." 

 Huey's dark eyes studied him for a moment and then he nodded as if he
understood completely. "Hope it works out, Ray. You deserve some good down
time." 

 Welsh's voice interrupted. "Detective Vecchio, Constable Fraser, at the
moment I'm down two good officers. I'd appreciate it if you'd let the ones
I do have get back to work." He made a point of looking directly at Huey.
"Right, Detective?" 

 Huey nodded with a big smile as he picked up a folder. "Right you are,
sir. Later, Ray, Fraser." 

 As soon as he left, Ray and Fraser headed to Welsh's office. Once inside,
he shut the door. "Not that I'm not happy to see you both, but why are you
two here when you should probably be packing for the big trip?" 

 Suddenly very tired after the parade of handshakes and how are you
feelings, Ray settled on the couch and let Fraser take over. "Actually,
sir, I was hoping you'd had a chance to finish that paperwork for Ray's
insurance claims, both for the apartment and the car." 

 Ray frowned. "What paperwork, Fraser?" 

 "I asked the Lieutenant if he could expedite the situation with your
claims, Ray. That way we could file the reports before we leave." 

 "You didn't say anything." 

 "It's all right, Detective." Welsh picked up a folder off his desk. "I
wrote up the damages as the team found them and added copies of the photos
from the scenes both for the property damage in the apartment and the car.
It should help move the process along. I can give the agent a call if
you'd like. Might mean you'd get your check sometime before summer." 

 "Thanks, Lieu. I didn't expect you to do that." 

 "What about the call?" 

 "Sure. I'd appreciate it." 

 "Good, no problem." Welsh sat back in his chair and put his hands
together as he stared at Ray. "So, how are you feeling, really?" 

 "I'm doing better." 

 "Those guys out there give you a hard time before you got here?" 

 "Not really." The lie dragged across his tongue, sharp and painful. 

 Fraser cut in. "Most people were more than friendly, sir, but it's a lot
to deal with after being away for so long. It can be rather overwhelming."


 "I'm not overwhelmed, Fraser. Just tired." Tired of assholes making
stupid ass comments they didn't think he could hear. 

 Welsh didn't need a picture. "People sometimes say stupid things when
they're nervous. As a police officer, you've seen it a thousand time with
suspects. It's not surprising police officers suffer the same sad
condition. Seeing you again so soon out of the hospital, well, they were
probably caught off guard." 

 "Yeah, well, can't say I blame them. I mean, I look in the mirror and get
a shock every day." 

 Fraser stepped closer and sat down beside him, his hand on his arm. "Ray,
you look fine." 

 "For one of Mort's corpses, maybe." 

 "That's not true. It's just a shock when they haven't seen you in so
long. I'm sure they didn't mean to offend you. They're your friends." 

 "I know that, Fraser. I just have a hard time dealing with the looks." 

 "The looks?" 

 "You know, let him sit down before he falls down looks, not to mention
the comments I'm not supposed to hear like, 'What the fuck's he doing out
of bed?' and 'Christ, he looks like shit.' I know I look like shit. I
don't have to hear it from my friends, okay?" 

 For once, Fraser didn't argue, but squeezed his arm. "No, Ray, you
don't." 

 Welsh interrupted. "Don't take it too hard, Kowalski. They don't mean
anything. People are never quite sure what to say to you even when you're
having a good day. I suppose one might say they're respecting your usually
volatile disposition by keeping a respectful distance." 

 Ray shook his head as he stood up. "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have
come in yet. I'm not ready." 

 "On that we agree." Welsh stood up and extended a hand. "Good luck on
your vacation. We'll talk when you get back, make arrangements to get you
back on the job." 

 "At a desk?" 

 "To start." 

 Ray took his hand and shook, the grip firm. "I guess that's to be
expected." 

 "You pick a shrink yet?" 

 "Not yet. Can't decide on who to go to." 

 "Worry about it when you get back." Welsh held out his hand to Fraser and
shook it. "Watch his back up there in the snow, Constable. Don't want him
wandering off and getting lost." 

 "Understood." 

 As they headed to the door, Fraser's hand slipped to the small of his
partner's back. Ray leaned in. "Stick close. I'd like to get out of the
place without shooting anybody." 

 "Perhaps the use of a rear exit might be in order." 

 "Lead the way, McDonald." 

 "I believe that's McDuff, Ray." 

 "I knew that." More tired than ever, Ray managed a weak smile. "Just
testing." 

 Fraser's voice softened as he led him to the back stairwell. "Let's go
home, Ray." 

 "No argument from me." Gripping the rail, Ray missed a step, Fraser's
arms just catching him before he ended up at the foot of the stairs. He
sat down fast and put his head between his knees. "Shit." 

 "Ray, are you all right?" 

 "Just a little dizzy." 

 "Dizzy?" 

 "Yeah, it'll pass. I'm just tired." Fraser didn't answer, just rested a
arm around his shoulders. Ray took several deep breaths and prayed no one
saw them and put two and two together. He hated hiding, but he hated the
idea of people knowing about them so soon even more. After a few moments,
he raised his head. "I'm sorry." 

 "For what?" 

 "For sucking." 

 "Sucking? I don't understand." 

 "I suck. I sucked with Stella and I suck with you. You deserve better." 

 "Now you're just being silly. You don't 'suck', as you put it." 

 "How do you know that? I suck in my head. I think shit, Fraser. I think
sucky thoughts, that's what it means to suck." 

 Fraser's face got suddenly very serious. "What do you mean by sucky
thoughts, Ray?" 

 "You're sitting here holding me and all I can think about is, I hope
nobody sees us. Tell me that's not sucky." 

 Relaxing, Fraser hugged him and shook his head. "It's a practical worry,
Ray, and nothing to be ashamed of. We both know that there would be
repercussions if people found out about us." 

 Ray studied him a moment and then frowned. "What did you think I meant?" 

 "I'm n...not sure." The tell-tale stutter gave him away. 

 "Don't lie to me, Fraser. What did you think I meant?" 

 "I'm sorry, Ray, but I thought you might have been referring to something
more self-destructive." 

 "Self-destructive? Self-destructive, like in hurting myself?" 

 "Something like that, yes." 

 "I told you I wouldn't do that." 

 "And I believe you." 

 "Obviously not." 

 "Ray, you're not the only one who can, on occasion, experience sucky
thoughts." 

 "Yeah, that's true. Guess it's a little hard to get pissed at you about
it, considering." 

 "Considering what?" 

 "Considering you've got reason to worry." 

 Fraser paused, his voice hushed as he nervously combed Ray's hair with
his fingers. "Do I, Ray? Do I have reason to worry?" 

 Ray couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't face Fraser, so he stared down at
his empty hands. "I'd never shoot myself, never do anything that
deliberate. I just can't promise not to do something stupid. Sometimes
stupid's all that shows up in my head." 

 "Ray, look at me." 

 "Don't want to." 

 "Ray, please." Swallowing hard, Ray finally did what Fraser asked and
looked into concerned blue eyes. "Ray, I need to know what you mean. As
much as I'd like to, I don't know what you're thinking when you say
something like that. I don't understand. Make me understand." 

 "I don't know what I mean, either." 

 "I think you do. Tell me." 

 Sighing deeply, Ray forced his confession. "Dr. Barnes told me to stop
taking the Percocet, but I didn't." 

 "I see." 

 "You going to ask why?" 

 "Actually, I was going to ask you when he told you to stop, today or the
last appointment?" 

 Ray dropped his head again, unable to maintain eye contact. "Last time.
He put his foot down this time though. Said my blood pressure was low." 

 "But you continued to take the medication against his advice." 

 "Like I said, I do stupid shit sometimes. I'm sorry." 

 "Well, that explains the dizziness." 

 "I guess." Ray waited and after a long silence, he asked, "You mad?" 

 "Do you plan to continue taking it?" 

 "Haven't decided." 

 "I suppose I should be grateful for your honesty." 

 "But are you mad?" 

 Fraser's hand gripped his chin and pulled his head up and around to face
him. "I'm not angry, but I'm worried. I want you to stop. I think you want
me to take the decision out of your hands, take the medication away. But
I'm not going to do that. We both know that if you want the narcotic, you
can get more. It has to be up to you." 

 "But..." 

 "No buts, Ray. Believe me, I know what you're going through on this.
Every day I have to consciously decide to stay sober. What is it they say,
one day at a time? That's exactly how I do it. I'm afraid you have to
choose your own path just like I did. I can't do it for you." 

 Ray squeezed his eyes shut, the pain growing in his gut. "You know what
it's like, how hard it is." 

 "Yes, I do." 

 "It just takes the edge off." 

 "I know that, too. In fact, I know just about any excuse you can manage.
I've used them all myself. However, we both know they're bullshit." 

 Ray jerked his head up, surprised by Fraser's choice of words. "What?" 

 "Make any excuse you want, but that's all it is, an excuse, a pretext to
keep using something that's not only not helping, but that could be
leading to great harm." 

 Ray stood up, pulling Fraser to his feet. "I know that." 

 "Then what are you going to do?" 

 "Quit, I guess." 

 "You guess?" 

 "Quit." 

 "Good." 

 Ray headed down the stairs, Fraser walking beside him. "It'll be okay. I
mean, it's not like I'm addicted or anything." 

 "You'll be fine." 

 But Ray knew without even looking that Fraser didn't really believe that
anymore than he did.  

 Ray sat on the edge of the bed, head down, his gun in his hand. He should
clean it, oil it, basic stuff. Instead, he held it up and sighed, slipping
it back in the holster under his left arm. Dief moved in closer and whined
for attention. Wrapping his good arm around the wolf, Ray buried his face
in the thick fur. The white coat smelled different than a dog's fur, more
musky, richer, so familiar and comforting. He loved how soft and fuzzy it
was against his skin. He wished like hell he could understand wolf speak
like Fraser. Hell, he could talk to Fraser's dead dad, why not the wolf?
It didn't make sense that he could do one and not the other. 

 "Ray?" 

 "Yeah?" 

 "You're supposed to be resting. Why are you sitting in the dark?" 

 Not lifting his head or releasing Dief, Ray shrugged. "Too tired to
sleep, too tired to get up." 

 Dief woofed a couple of times, but didn't pull away. 

 Fraser settled on the bed beside him, his hand palmed against Ray's back.
"Diefenbaker's worried, Ray. He said you had your gun out. Is that true?" 

 "He's got a big mouth for a wolf." 

 Dief wiggled in his arms, but stayed put, letting Ray squeeze him a
little harder to hide his tears. "Ray, tell me what's going on." 

 "I feel like shit, Fraser, like somebody should just shoot me and be done
with it. I can't stop crying. All I can think about is drinking or taking
something to make it stop. I suck." 

 "You don't suck, Ray." Fraser hesitated. "Would it bother you if I turned
on the light?" 

 "Yeah, it would. I don't want you to see me like this." 

 "Is there something I can get you that might help, some coffee or
chocolate?" 

 "Only if it's dosed with lots of scotch." 

 "Would you at least let me have your gun?" 

 Lifting his head, he finally released Diefenbaker as he sat back against
the pillows on the bed. "I'm not going to shoot myself, Fraser. I just
like having it nearby." 

 "Why?" 

 "It makes me feel safer." Ray held up a staying hand before Fraser could
debate the point. "Look, I know it's crazy, irrational, get the butterfly
net kind of thinking, but I can't help it. I just need to wear it right
now, okay?" 

 "Okay." Fraser touched his leg, squeezing gently, his voice suddenly much
softer. "Your mother called." 

 "Mum called?" 

 "She said she wanted to stop by before we left on Saturday." 

 "Fuck." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. She sounded upset." 

 Oh, that wasn't good, not good at all. Ray sat up and swung his legs off
the side of the bed again. "She say anything else, like what she wanted?" 

 "No, she asked if it was okay to come over tonight, but I wasn't sure
what you'd want to do. I asked her to call again." 

 "Good, good. Good call." Panic rose in his belly. "What the fuck could
she want? You think something happened?" 

 "I have no idea, Ray. She didn't give any indication that anything had
changed, just that she wanted to see you before we left." 

 "Before we left, huh? Oh, this sucks, Fraser. This is a bad sign." He
reached over and turned on the light, to hell with the red and swollen
eyes. It wouldn't be the first time Fraser saw what he looked like after
he bawled like a fucking baby. "I don't know if I can deal with much more,
Fraser, not right now, not when I'm feeling so, so, so..." 

 "Fraught?" 

 "Fraught?" 

 "Anxious, upset, burdened?" 

 "Right, right, fraught, that works. Jesus, what the hell could she want,
and how the hell did she find out when we were leaving? Come to that,
how'd she find out about us even going?" 

 "I would imagine that Stella informed her." 

 Ray paced the room at the foot of the bed, his arms wrapped around
himself, all jumpy and wild inside. He didn't want to fight with his mum,
not tonight or any night, but not when all he wanted to do was punch out a
wall or curl up in a ball somewhere and forget about all the shit pouring
in on him. He didn't need this right now, now from his own mother. Fuck,
she could either accept him with Fraser or get the fuck out. Suddenly
angry, he turned to Fraser. "If I see her now, I might say something
really bad. Can you stall her until after we get back?" 

 "I don't think that's wise, Ray." 

 "Why not? It's better than me flying off the handle or her seeing me all
strung out." He stopped, his voice strained. "I don't want her to see me
like this, not like this, Fraser. She's my mum." 

 Fraser stood and took him in his arms. Ray trembled at the sturdy touch,
his head spinning, his throat too tight to even swallow. "It's all right,
Ray. She loves you. It might help to see her." 

 Closing his eyes, Ray rested his forehead on Fraser's broad shoulder.
"It's not going to be good, Fraser. I can just feel it." 

 "You don't know that." 

 "You don't not know it." 

 "True, but she is your mother." 

 Sighing, Ray lifted his head. "Yeah, I know. Guess I should call. Don't
suppose you'd do it for me, huh?" 

 "She said she would call back. I got the distinct impression that she
didn't want either of us to call her at home." 

 "That means she's sneaking around behind Dad's back. Damn it." Ray pulled
away and sagged down on the end of the bed. "I hate this, I mean really,
truly hate this. I know what she's going to say." 

 "What's that?" 

 "She's going to beg me to break it off. Bet she thinks you're dragging
her baby boy off to the Great White North and she's going to try to save
my ass one last time. She did something like this when Stella and I were
having problems." He lowered his head to his hands. "I so do not need this
right now." 

 "She could just as easily be coming over to wish us support." 

 "Yeah, right. Trust me on this, Fraser, that is so not going to happen. I
love my mum, but she's almost as set in her ways about gays as Dad is. She
loves me, but she thinks I've gone off the deep end. She's going to try
something. I just don't know what yet." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. I wish there were something I could say to ease your
mind about this." 

 "Just promise me you won't leave me." 

 Fraser sat down beside him and took his hand, his eyes sincere as ever.
"You have my promise and my pledge, Ray. I'll never leave you." 

 Ray smiled, warmed by the words. "Thanks, that's sweet, Frase, but I was
talking about something more immediate, more like tonight when she comes
over. She's going to want you to leave while we talk. I want you to stay
no matter what she says, okay?" 

 "Oh, I see. All right. Are you sure?" 

 "I'm sure. I don't think I'm strong enough to put up with her shit. She
might say something really bad and I'll say something even worse and,
well, you know it'll be like an escalator." 

 "You mean escalation?" 

 "Yeah, getting out of control real fast. I don't want that. With you
here, I'll behave myself better even if I do get upset." 

 Fraser frowned. "Why are you so sure she's going to say something to
upset you?" 

 "Because history repeats itself, especially in my family. I can see it
coming. I just want to be ready." 

 "I hope you're wrong, Ray." 

 "Yeah, me, too, but I'm not going to hold my breath."	

 Ray paced in front of the sofa before he sagged down on it, dropping his
face to his hands. His body shook, wanted to fly apart into a million
jagged, little pieces. He couldn't sit still, not for any amount of money.
Up again, he walked to the window, looked out, but didn't see the dirty
streets or hear the hum of traffic. He paid no attention to the snow
flurries or the hissing of the wind. Running his hand through his hair, he
went over to the turtle tank. He switched on the light and the sleepy
animal blinked, lifting its pointed head slowly. Ray didn't notice, just
moved away and paced some more. 

 Fraser folded his paper. "Ray, would you like some tea to help settle
your nerves?" 

 "Tea isn't a fucking cure all, Fraser. I can't drink tea and feel better,
keep from feeling like I'm going to go nuts here." 

 Putting the paper on the table, Fraser stood up. "She's here, Ray. Try to
calm down. Please." 

 "How do you know that?" 

 "I hear her on the stairs." 

 "That could be anybody." 

 "Anybody doesn't walk like your mother. Her step is quite distinctive." 

 "Damn. Think she'd catch us if we went out the back?" 

 "Ray..." 

 Crossing his arms, Ray took a deep breath to prepare himself for the
confrontation. "Just kidding, just kidding. Let her in." 

 The knock came and Fraser stepped to the door to open it. "Mrs. Kowalski.
It's good to see you again. Welcome to our home." 

 Ray stood in the middle of the room waiting, too tense to move closer.
"Hi, Mum." 

 "Stanley." 

 "May I take your coat, Mrs. Kowalski?" 

 "Yes, thank you, Mr. Fraser." 

 "It's Constable, Mum." 

 Flustered, his mother nodded. "Right, right, Stanley, I remember." She
glanced at Fraser as she slipped off her coat and handed it to him. He
took it and shut the door before hanging it up in the closet. "I'm sorry,
Constable. We don't have those here." 

 "Sure we do, Mum. He's standing right there being polite despite the shit
Dad pulled." 

 Fraser gave him a quick look of disapproval and his mother shook her
head. "Watch your mouth, Stanley Raymond Kowalski. I'm not in the mood for
that kind of talk. You're not too old to have your mouth washed out with
soap." 

 "Sorry, Mum." Ray swallowed hard, thinking of the times his mom actually
did that when he was little, when he got pissed off and had to run around
the house screaming or ram his head through a wall. He tried to focus,
worked to make himself not come off like a complete asshole in front of
the two people who mattered more to him than anybody else. "I'm just a
little wound up. You didn't say what you wanted on the phone and I don't
like surprises, not when they come from you and Pop. I figured I wouldn't
see you for a while after our last talk." 

 She stepped closer, her voice strained. She sounded like she did when she
first told him how unhappy Stella was, how he had to try harder to keep
her, how he'd be a fool to let her go, like he had a fucking choice when
Stella had plans of her own. "Stanley, I need to talk to you in private." 

 "This is as private as it gets." 

 "Stanley..." 

 "Mum, I'm serious. You talk to me, you're talking to Fraser. We're
together. You just have to deal with it." 

 His mother stared at him for several long moments before she finally
nodded. "Could you at least sit down?" 

 "I can't, Mum, not right now, but you can sit if you want. Hey, you want
some tea? Fraser's good with tea." 

 "Thank you, but I didn't come here for tea, Stanley." She tilted her head
slightly and studied him with a practiced eye. "What's wrong with you? You
look jumpy, like that time you had to tell your father about going to the
police academy." 

 Ray ignored the question and got straight to the point. "Why are you
here, Mum?" 

 Hesitating, she finally stepped closer, but never looked over at Fraser
who stood near the table, just watching, not talking, not interrupting for
once. 

 "Stella tells me you're going to Canada with him." 

 "By him, you mean Fraser?" 

 "Yes, him, Fraser." She said his name like it hurt her to say it out
loud. 

 "Yeah, Fraser and me, we're going Saturday for two weeks." 

 "But why?" 

 "Why?" 

 "Why Canada and why now? You've just gotten out of the hospital. You
could get sick going into all that snow." 

 "Don't worry, Mum. We're going shopping tomorrow for good stuff to wear.
I'll be fine. Besides, Fraser will make sure I stay warm." 

 His mother's frown deepened as she stepped closer and tried again, the
words obviously difficult. "Stella told me about what happened, what
really happened and how you got hurt." She fumbled in her purse and pulled
out a tissue, dabbing at her eyes as her voice choked. "I just can't help
but think that's the reason." 

 Ray's chest tightened, his mouth suddenly too dry. "What's the reason?" 

 "That you're with him now, that because of being hurt that way, you're
doing what you're doing with a man when you should be with a nice girl,
somebody to take care of you, to be normal again." 

 "Normal?" Ray turned away, biting his lip, not able to look at his
mother. He ignored Fraser, too, couldn't bring himself to face him. How
could his own mother even think like that, think that being hurt by
Clooney had anything to do with how he felt about Fraser? Disgusted and
hurt, he shook his head. "Jesus, Mum." 

 "I'm serious." 

 Fraser finally spoke. "Mrs. Kowalski, I'm sorry you feel that my
relationship with your son isn't normal, but I assure you that I love him
very much." 

 "Fraser, you don't have to say that." 

 "But it's the truth, Ray. I don't want your mother to think I took
advantage of you during a vulnerable moment in your life." 

 "Fuck that." Ray turned again and stepped to his mother, grabbing her
shoulder, struggling to keep his anger in check. "Mum, you're dead wrong
about this. I've loved Fraser a long time. Now, I didn't really want to
admit that, because I was a chicken, a coward, scared of what people might
say. I didn't want to put up with this kind of thing from you or Pop or
all the other people out there who think what we have together ain't
normal, but fuck normal, Mum." 

 "Stanley..." 

 "I know, I know, I'm sorry. You hate when I cuss. Funny, so does Fraser,
but I can't help it. I feel like shit right now because my own mother
comes to my house, our house, and says stupid shit to me, tells me I'm not
normal because I love a man who loves me back. I just don't get that." He
squeezed her shoulder and moved away, standing next to Fraser and slipping
his arm around his waist. "This is my life now, Mum. It don't matter if
we're here or in Canada or in Timbuktu. I love him and if you think that's
messed up and not normal, well, that's your problem, not mine. I'm sorry."


 His mother closed her eyes briefly, taking a long breath, like she did
when she prayed for patience. "I talked to Father Kopernik and he said
that this could just be a reaction to what that man did to you, like some
kind of shock." 

 "No offense, Mum, but Father Kopernik doesn't know shit." Ray turned his
head and kissed Fraser's cheek before he released him. Fraser's face
burned, but he remained quiet, letting Ray say what he had to say. "What
happened to me has nothing to do with how I feel about Fraser. He's a good
man, a better man than me, better than any man I've ever met. I can't tell
you how much he means to me because I'm not good with words like he is,
not good at telling people what I'm thinking or feeling." 

 Ray moved closer, his eyes meeting his mom's concerned stare, her face
more pale, more grim than ever. "You know me, Mum, better than just about
anybody. You know how much I loved Stella and you know during that whole
time, I never cheated, not once, not even when I knew what she was doing
all those nights she never came home." 

 "Stanley, what she did was wrong, just like what you're doing now is
wrong. Father Kopernik says..." 

 "I don't give a flying fuck what Father K says or what the church says or
what anybody else says. You know me. You know how I am. When I love
somebody, it's for keeps until they throw me away. Stella did that, Mum.
Not me. Fraser here, he's like nobody I've ever met. He's smarter and
braver and better than anybody I know. Why he wants me, I don't have a
clue, but he does and that's all that matters. I need him. I love him. Why
isn't that good enough for you, Mum? What, because he's not a woman, I
can't love him and have a good life?" 

 "What about children? You always wanted children." 

 "If I'd stayed with Stella, there'd be no kids, either. Besides, I can't
be a good father if I hate who I am or who I'm with and I'd be like that
if I were with anybody but Fraser." His voice softened as he held back the
pain, controlled himself just a little while longer. "I'm sorry you feel
bad about this, because you know I love you, but like you said before, I'm
grown up now. You've got your life with Dad and I've got mine with Fraser.
You can't deal with that, then we got nothing else to talk about." 

 "You're still in shock from what that awful man did. You can't know what
you want, not after something like that. You should come stay with me or
with Stella. She can help you through this. Get away from here and get
your head straight again. Father Kopernik said there were some good
counselors who work with men like you." 

 "Men like me?" 

 "Men who'd been hurt like you were." 

 "I'm not talking to an asshole priest who thinks I'm sick because I'm
gay." 

 "He's just wants to help, Stanley. I told your father that I wanted you
to come stay with us a while. He said he'd let you as long as you went to
Father Kopernik for counseling to get straightened out. He wants you to be
well again." 

 Ray closed his eyes, his head spinning, his chest almost too tight for
air. "You had no right to tell people about what happened to me." 

 "I'm your mother." 

 "Yeah, I know." Ray opened his eyes and he wanted to throw up, his
stomach even tighter than his fists. "That's the only reason I don't sock
you right now. You need to leave, Mum. I love you, but I really don't want
to see you right now, not when you're acting like I'm sick, like there's
something wrong with me because I love Fraser." 

 "Stanley..." Her voice came out pleading as Fraser moved to get her coat,
his partner's grim silence almost as loud as Ray's name on his mother's
lips. 

 "Just go, Mum. I'll send you a card from Canada." 

 Slipping on her coat with Fraser's help, she wiped her eyes and blew her
nose. "I'm so sorry, Stanley. I didn't mean to get you so upset. I just
wanted to do the right thing." 

 "I know." 

 His mother nodded and turned to face Fraser. "Take care of him. I'm never
going to say I approve of this thing between you, but I know my son, and
he wouldn't say these things if he didn't feel them in his heart. He's got
a good heart, my Stanley. He must love you very much." 

 "And I love him very much as well." 

 Resigned, she took one last look at Ray and left, the door clicking shut
behind her. Slumping down on the sofa, Ray leaned forward, his face in his
right hand, his whole body trembling. Strong arms wrapped around him and
pulled him into an embrace. "I'm sorry, Ray." 

 "Don't be." His face pressed into Fraser's chest, the words muffled. "Not
your fault." 

 Fraser cupped the back of his head and held him, Ray's whole body shaking
as he wept, his tears burning like the anguish that seared his heart.  

 Sluggish, his muscles tight and twitchy, Ray rolled over in the bed and
rested his head on Fraser's chest as they lay in the dark. He snuggled in
closer, drinking in the heat, relishing the security of being held by the
man he loved. He couldn't get enough, never would. "I'm sorry about what
my mum said." 

 "You've got no control over what other people say, Ray. There's no need
for an apology from you." 

 "Well, you'll be old and grey before you get one from her or my dad." 

 "I'm not worried about that. I wish I could convince them that my
intentions are honorable." 

 "Hard to do when they think we're both faggots." His partner tensed and
Ray rubbed his hand back and forth across his belly to help him relax. "I
just mean that they don't think what we're doing is honorable. We're
fighting years of conditioning from the church, years of hearing about
being unnatural and sick and evil. It's hard, because I still love them
even though I hate that they still feel that way. Nothing I can do about
it, nothing you can do about it. Might as well eat the moon." 

 "Eat the moon?" 

 "It's a hopeless cause." 

 "Maybe not. I'm still hopeful that someday they'll adjust to the notion."


 "Notion? What we have is a notion?" 

 Fraser mussed Ray's hair. "A very fine notion." 

 Sighing deeply, Ray ignored the rising headache, the muscle cramps in his
legs, and growing nausea. Instead, he focused on holding and being held by
Fraser. "Yeah, a fine notion, that's good. I like that." 

 "Ray?" 

 "Yeah?" 

 "What you said before, about not knowing why I love you, is that true? Do
you really not know why I love you?" 

 Ray gritted his teeth, vaguely remembering how he'd let that slip out. "I
might not know why, but I don't question that you do, and I'm damn
grateful for that. Still, it's pretty obvious who got the short end of the
stick." 

 Fraser shook his head and shifted. "Ray, look at me." 

 "Come on, Fraser, I'm comfortable here. I don't want to move and I don't
want to make a big deal out of this. You don't have to make any long list
or declaration. I believe you when you say you love me." 

 Squeezing him tighter, Fraser rubbed his chin across the top of Ray's
head. He spoke in hush, that deep, rich tone he used when he really wanted
to make a point. "Almost from the beginning, I loved you, Ray, for your
strength and tenacity, your wit, your generous heart, your ability to cut
through the bullshit, as you call it, to get to the truth of the matter. I
love your devotion to justice, your fierce bravery, your willingness to
let me into your life even though I'm sometimes a freak in your eyes. I
loved and do love your loyalty, your stubbornness, your sharp mind, your
passion, your beauty, your absolute sense of what's right. Most of all, I
love how you love me, how you believe in me without fail, and how you
accept me, faults and all." Fraser kissed the top of his head again and
whispered, "I love you more than I can say, Ray, more than I can ever put
into words, for all that and more." 

 Ray buried his face against Fraser's chest. "Jesus, you want me to start
bawling again?" 

 "No, Ray, I want you to know why I love you. I need you to know that in
no way did I get the short end of the stick." 

 Ray had to clear his throat several times before he trusted his voice.
"You really feel like that, about me being beautiful and passionate and
all that other stuff?" 

 "Yes, without a doubt." 

 "That's so weird." 

 "Why is that weird? It's all true." 

 "But that's how I see you." 

 Fraser smiled, pleased with the comment. "I appreciate that, Ray." 

 Ray pulled away enough to shift up, to see Fraser's face, to watch his
eyes in the low light of the bedroom. "You're the most beautiful man I've
ever seen. I thought that he first time I saw you. I saw your picture in
the Vecchio file, but that didn't do you justice. When you walked in to
the station that day, wearing that suit, with Dief at your heels, I
thought, shit, he's a good-looking guy." 

 "Is that why you hugged me first thing?" 

 Ray flushed slightly and grinned. "Actually, I was kind of afraid you'd
run off. I figured you'd think you'd come home to the booby prize." 

 "Booby prize?" 

 "You know, the consolation gift that you get when you don't get what you
really want, the dorky stuff you sometimes get just for showing up." 

 "Ray, Ray, Ray, where to do you get these outrageous ideas?" 

 "Don't know." 

 "You're the grand prize, Ray. I wanted to win you from the very start. I
wish I'd been more brave from the beginning and let you know." 

 "Like I said before, I probably wouldn't have been ready, Fraser. I mean,
sure, I can admit I thought you were good-looking. I'm not blind. But
admitting that I was really attracted to you beyond the outside package,
well, that took it to a whole different level of self-awareness I just
couldn't have handled at the time. Besides, I wasn't over Stella, and I
didn't really know you yet, not like now, not enough to trust my heart to
you. No, you were better off waiting." 

 "I'm just pleased you're ready now." 

 Ray leaned in, his lips only a few inches from Fraser's mouth as he
whispered. "Oh, yeah." Pressing in, he kissed him, soft at first, and then
with more pressure, his tongue finding heat. The uncomfortable ache all
over his body shifted, changed into a throbbing, deep need. His cock
hardened, begging for more. Slipping his hand between his legs, he fisted
his erection and stroked only to find Fraser's hand fighting to take over.
"Let me. Please." 

 Surrendering, Ray lay back and allowed Fraser to pull down his sweats and
boxers quickly. Lowering his head, his lover took the whole length in his
mouth. Silky wet flame whipped all up and down Ray's spine. Moaning, Ray
pleaded as he gripped the dark hair of the bobbing head. "Oh, God, Fraser,
Fraser, I can't..." His back arched, his body responding in seconds to the
talented tongue, the pressure, the need to come almost right away. Short
thrusts made his balls draw up, his mind a swarm of color, bright flashes
going off all at once as he shuddered. Release hit him hard, slammed him
into bone-crushing pleasure, his breath nothing but a hissing scream.
Nothing made sense and nothing mattered as long as life let him come until
his dick couldn't come anymore. 

 Awareness arrived with Fraser's tongue licking up his belly, his partner
lifting his shirt to savor his nipples, the brush of whiskers adding a
slow burn against raw skin. Groaning again, Ray trembled at the delight of
that love, that completeness. Slowly, Fraser stretched out over his body
and took his mouth, some of Ray's own come still there, still salty. Ray
loved it, loved the lingering slick bitterness in Fraser's beautiful
mouth. Finally, Fraser lifted his head and then rubbed his nose against
Ray's. "I love you." 

 "I love you, too, Fraser." Catching his breath, Ray shook his head. "You
shouldn't have let me come so fast." 

 Fraser sniffed at his neck, taking in a deep breath, before he did a
quick flick of his tongue against his skin. "I'm selfish. I wanted to
taste you. You're addictive." 

 Ray chuckled. "Just another late night snack, huh?" 

 "More than a snack, Ray." Again Fraser enjoyed a whiff before rolling to
lie at Ray's side, his body still pressed against him tightly. Fraser
reached down and pulled up the blanket to cover their bodies and then
sighed with contentment. "You make me so happy. You have no idea how much
I need you." 

 Relaxed and warm, Ray drew Fraser into his arms. Sliding his hand down,
he found his partner's cock, sticky and only half hard. He frowned. "You
came already?" 

 "Oh, yes." 

 "But how?" 

 "Performing fellatio is as arousing for me as it is for you." 

 "You're kidding." 

 "I assure you I'm not." 

 "You like sucking cock enough to get off on it without me even helping?" 

 Fraser lifted his head, his eyes worried. "I'm sorry, Ray. Should I have
waited?" 

 "No, no, of course not. I'm just surprised, that's all. I just didn't
think you could do that." 

 Smiling, his face suddenly more playful, Fraser kissed and licked the
side of his jaw. "You'd be amazed at how much pleasure I get just from
touching you. I can reach completion just by thinking about it, but doing
it, well, it's so much more satisfying." 

 "I turn you on, huh?" 

 "Oh, yes." 

 Chuckling at Fraser's sleepy words, Ray drank in the heat, savored the
attention. He let himself drift off as he kissed Fraser's cheek. "Same
here, buddy, same here."  

 Morning came after a very long night, a night of vomiting, shakes and
cold sweats. Ray dragged himself to the table, disgusted with himself and
his traitorous body. "Got any coffee?" 

 Fraser brought him his cup and put chocolate candy down beside his plate.
He also handed him a glass of water before he busied himself with fixing
breakfast. "Are you feeling any better?" 

 "Well, I'm not throwing up my socks, so I guess that's an improvement."
Ray sipped his coffee and closed his eyes, not wanting to think about how
easy it would be to feel better. "Sorry about keeping you awake most of
the night." 

 "You were ill, Ray. It's not your fault." 

 "Fraser, we both know why I feel like shit." 

 Nodding, not arguing for a change, Fraser brought the pot of oatmeal to
the table and put some in each of the bowls. After he returned the pot to
the stove, he sat down, but didn't eat right away. Instead, he leaned in,
his hands fisted together in front of his face. "I'm proud of you." 

 "Proud of me? Why? For abusing drugs?" 

 "No, for stopping. It's not easy. You don't give yourself enough credit."


 "That's because I'm too busy giving myself too much slack. I'll feel like
crap for a while and then it'll be better. I should be feeling okay by
tomorrow when we leave." 

 "You sound like you've done this before." 

 "With booze, yeah. It's not that much different." 

 "Still, it's not easy." 

 "Yeah, well, let's change the subject. Where are we going to get the
goods we need? You got a place in mind?" 

 Fraser doctored his oatmeal with some butter and a touch of milk. "There
are two places, actually. I thought we could check out the army surplus
store first. They often run specials on arctic gear." 

 "More often in summer than now." 

 "True, but their prices are better than most places. Then there's Earl's
Canadian Outfitter's. They've got both modern thermal wear as well as some
natural fur you might like. You can also check out their boots." 

 "You think I should get new boots?" 

 "Your boots are fine, Ray, but you can get something more suited for snow
if you'd like." 

 "They got mukluks?" 

 Fraser nearly dropped his spoon. "Mukluks?" 

 "Why not? If they're good enough for those Inuit guys, why not me?" 

 "Why not, indeed. We'll be sure to ask." Fraser resumed eating, but
frowned when he noticed his partner's untouched food. "Ray, you need to at
least try to eat." 

 Ray lifted his cup in a toast. "Coffee's good enough." 

 "Coffee isn't enough." 

 "Coffee's all I can keep down. Don't worry about it." 

 "But I do worry." The words came out a whisper. 

 Ray took his hand and squeezed it. "I know you do, but it's okay. We just
got different bellies, you and me. You can eat in the morning and I don't
even want to see food until noon even on a good day, which this ain't." He
released Fraser's hand and sighed before he pushed everything out of his
way and then crossed his arms on the table. He put his head down, the cast
hard and rough against his cheek. "Eat your breakfast, Fraser. Then we'll
get dressed and go get stuff we need." 

 "You should go lie down. We can go shopping this afternoon." 

 "Nope. That's cutting it too close. I don't want to be rushing around
here tonight wondering what the hell I forgot." 

 "You won't. We've got a list." 

 Ray checked out Fraser while still keeping his head down. "We've got a
list? When did we make a list?" 

 "Well, I took the liberty of making one for both of us, Ray. I hope you
don't mind." 

 "No, I don't mind. A list, huh? You think that'll work, making a list and
checking it twice." 

 "Just because I wear red, doesn't make me Santa, Ray." 

 "That mean you don't know who's been naughty or nice?" 

 "On the contrary, I know some who have been both." 

 Ray laughed and lifted his head. He loved when Fraser teased back. "So,
we're on both lists, huh?" 

 "So it would seem." 

 "That mean we get the goodies, but then we'll have to give them back?" 

 Still smiling, Fraser shook his head and stood up to put his dish in the
sink. "I think it means we've already gotten our goodies." 

 "You calling me a goodie, Frase?" 

 "If the stocking fits, Ray." 

 Warmed by Fraser's good humor, Ray almost forgot about his nervous
stomach, almost. He held his achy belly and sighed. "Think I will stretch
out for a minute, just close my eyes and hope things settle down." 

 "Do that, Ray. There's no hurry. It's only nine o'clock. The stores don't
open for another hour." 

 Making his way to the sofa, Ray lay down and pulled a blanket down over
himself. He closed his eyes and willed the world to stop spinning for a
while. At the sink Fraser cleaned up the dishes. Neither man wanted to
answer the phone when it rang. 

 Fraser dried his hands and picked up the receiver. "Ray Vecchio's
residence, Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police
speaking. How may I help you?" Fraser suddenly stood even straighter, his
voice tougher. "He's resting." He paused. "I can give him a message." Ray
didn't bother to ask who it was. He recognized Fraser's barely tolerating
Stella tone a mile off. "No, I'm not screening his calls, Ms. Kowalski. I
assure you, I will give him your message. Good day." The phone receiver
went back into the cradle with enough force to wake up Dief, who whined a
quick protest before going back to sleep. 

 "Fraser?" 

 "That woman." 

 "Stella, huh?" 

 "Indeed." 

 "I could've talked to her." 

 "She wants you to call her." 

 "About?" 

 "She said your mother was still upset. She said you had issues to
discuss." 

 "Did you want to say she could go to hell?" 

 Startled by the insight, Fraser faced him and finally smiled. "Actually,
I wanted to say worse. I'm not sure what it is about her, but she seems to
bring out the worst in me." 

 "Tell me about it." 

 "Well, she seems to go out of her way to goad me, not to mention that
condescending tone she uses." 

 "I didn't mean for you to literally tell me about it, Fraser. I know what
she does." 

 "Ah." 

 Ray sat up, still weary, but suddenly too wired to sleep. "You know what
this means, right?" 

 "What?" 

 "It means my mum and Stella have talked and decided to tag team us." 

 "Tag team?" 

 "Come at us from both sides, pull out the stops, go for the last ditch
effort to save our souls." 

 "I didn't realize Stella was religious." 

 "She's not, not like my mum, but she knows the ropes, knows how to use it
to her advantage when she wants." 

 Fraser settled down on the sofa beside him "I see. What do you intend to
do?" 

 Ray crossed his arms and let his head fall back, closing his eyes. "Well,
I have to call back, but just to say I got the message." 

 "She'll want to get together to talk, alone." 

 "I know that. Not going to happen." 

 Fraser paused briefly, his voice strained. "I'm not sure I understand
what Stella's purpose is in all this. Why does she care about who you're
with unless she still has feelings for you and wants to reconcile." 

 Ray lifted his head and opened his eyes, taking in the sober features of
his partner. "You don't have to worry about that." 

 "About what?" 

 "She doesn't want me back. That's not it." 

 "Then what does she want?" 

 Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Ray took a couple of deep breaths.
He hated talking bad about Stella, but sometimes it just couldn't be
helped. "Stella always thinks that she knows best. God, I can't tell you
how many fights we had over that." 

 "You're saying she's trying to interfere because she thinks you'll be
better off with someone else?" 

 "Think about it, Fraser. I was with her for twenty-one years, if you
count in the six years before we got married. All that time she thinks I'm
completely straight. Hell, I think I'm completely straight, and along
comes Fraser, the man of my dreams. She's got to think I've lost my
marbles, so she's doing what she does, trying to fix it, because she
thinks she knows what's best. That's just Stella. Throw in the fact that
she and my mum are best buddies and you can see how they'd work together
to try to break us apart for our own good." 

 "It sounds dastardly, Ray." 

 "Dastardly?" 

 "Yes, Ray, dastardly. She's not only unsupportive of your choices, but
she's trying to undermine our relationship using an unfair advantage." 

 "What unfair advantage?" 

 Fraser turned to look at him, his face drawn with the strain of little
sleep and too much worry. "You said yourself you've known each other since
you were children. She knows how you behave, how you react..." 

 "What buttons to push." Ray held up a hand. "But that doesn't mean she
knows what to do about me now and that's what scares her." 

 "Scares her? Ray, are we talking about the same woman? She doesn't seem
the least bit afraid." 

 "I know Stella and she's scared, Fraser, scared that our marriage was a
sham, scared that a huge part of her life is changing and that change is
out of her hands. And that's one thing Stella always hated, not
controlling things, not calling the shots." 

 "She is rather bossy, not to mention abrasive and intrusive." 

 "Damn, Fraser's got a wicked tongue." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray, I shouldn't say negative things about her." 

 "Fraser, you're entitled to your opinion." 

 "But she is your ex-wife and you still have feelings for her. I should be
more sensitive to that fact." 

 "You should be honest. I'll tell you if you step over the line. So far,
you're fine. I know you don't like her and you're not saying anything I
don't already know." 

 Accepting that, Fraser nodded, but didn't smile. "Are you going to see
her?" 

 "Like I said, I'll call, tell her to back off." 

 "And if she won't accept that?" 

 "Then she can kiss my skinny ass as I fly off to Canada." 

 "Are you going to actually say that?" 

 "You think I won't?" 

 Fraser flushed and leaned in closer. "Just so long as I'm the only one
who can actually do it, then you can say it to anyone you want." 

 "Tough choice there." Ray kissed him lightly before he rested his
forehead against Fraser's. "Deal."  

 Ray pulled on the fifth heavy-weight, down-filled coat and nodded as he
lifted his arms and tested the pull at the shoulders. He liked the
chocolate color, the dark brown trim, not to mention that the sleeve
easily stretched over his cast. "Yeah, yeah, this is the one." 

 "It's quite fetching, Ray." 

 Turning, Ray checked himself out in the mirror. "Fetching, huh? Who do
you suppose I'm trying to fetch?" Fraser blushed at the tease and Ray
leaned closer to whisper, "Don't have to fetch. Got what I want right
here." 

 "Indeed, Ray, as do I." 

 Ray stood straighter, his eyes suddenly bright. "Oh, man, I found a hat."
He stepped to the next aisle and pulled down a fur hat. "This is it, this
is the one." He put it on his head and modeled it for Fraser. 

 "Ray, that looks like..." 

 "Yeah, I know. It's just like the one your dad wears." He flipped down
the flaps. "Look, it's got built in earmuffs, too. Cool. My ears stick out
and they always get cold." 

 "Your ears do not stick out, Ray. They're very fine ears." 

 Ray grinned and scratched his cheek, amused and warmed by the loving
tone. "What do you think about the hat?" 

 "It's a fine hat, Ray." 

 "You don't mind me wearing a hat like your dad's?" 

 "Why should I mind? He wore it in good health for many years." Fraser
reached up and straightened the hat slightly, tilting his head as he
admired it. "And it looks very good on you." 

 "All right then. What next, gloves or boots?" 

 "Either is fine." 

 "You're no help." 

 "It's your choice, Ray." 

 "You're the guide. You pick. Gloves or boots?" 

 "Gloves." 

 "Good, good. Which way?" 

 Fraser led him to another shelf covered with every kind of glove or
mitten Ray could imagine. "What should I get, wool, leather, nylon, what?"


 "You should try them on and see what fits and feels right." 

 "We could be here all day." 

 "We have plenty of time." 

 "You wear fur-lined leather, right?" 

 "Yes." 

 Ray wet his lower lip as he remembered the first time he'd seen Fraser
slip on those black leather gloves. His cock twitched at the memory of how
sexy he looked, flexing his fingers and big hands, the leather all
stretched tight. He cleared his throat, trying not to give himself away.
"You've got great gloves, Fraser. I want some of those." 

 Standing right beside him, Fraser studied him, his eyes curious. "Are you
all right, Ray? You look flushed." 

 "Well, I'm wearing a coat and hat indoors, Frase. It's hot." 

 "It's not that kind of flush." Fraser lowered his voice, his eyes
twinkling with sudden awareness and amusement. "You like gloves, Ray?" 

 "Fuck." 

 "Language, Ray. We're in public." 

 "You don't miss a trick." 

 Still smiling, Fraser picked up a pair of black leather ones, very
similar to the ones he owned, only with longer fingers. "Try these." 

 Ray trembled with excitement as he slipped one on his right hand. "It
feels great and it fits like..." 

 "A glove?" 

 "Yeah, yeah, it does." 

 Fraser reached over and picked up another pair for himself. Carefully, he
pulled one on slowly, extending his fingers to make the leather tighter,
making sure that Ray got a good show. Ray swallowed so hard he thought
he'd choke and his cock wasn't kidding. It wanted to get busy with that
powerful hand in a big way. Fraser watched him the whole time and just
smiled, knowing full well what effect his performance had on Ray. "I think
I'll buy these." 

 Ray looked up, his breathing almost too fast for his mind to catch up. He
couldn't believe Fraser read him so easily, not when he tried so hard to
hide his freakier needs. He worked hard to keep his voice steady and
nonchalant. "Why? You've already got a good pair." 

 "I'll tell you when we get home. I have a theory." 

 "A theory, huh?" 

 Whispering, Fraser stepped even closer, his mouth to Ray's ear. "After
I've used this pair, I won't be wearing them again outside the bedroom." 

 Ray gulped for air, suddenly dizzy. "Jesus, Fraser." 

 Stepping back a bit, smiling as though he'd just told Ray the weather, he
pointed to the back of the store. "I believe the boots are this way." 

 "Bastard." 

 Fraser chuckled as he walked off towards the back way. "Now, Ray, you
know that's not true." 

 "You are so going to get it when we get home." 

 Fraser stopped and turned, his eyes narrowed with a sexual heat Ray
rarely saw his friend allow himself in public. "I'm counting on that,
Ray." 

 Throat dry, suddenly jittery, Ray returned the spark. "My boots are fine.
Let's go home." 

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Don't they have boots in Canada?" 

 "Indeed, they do, Ray." 

 "Then let's pay for this stuff and go home. I've got my own theories to
test." 

 Fraser beat him to the checkout, gloves in hand, smiling like the
perfectly innocent Mountie the whole damn time.  

 Lying naked and stretched out on the bed, Ray moaned in pleasure.
Leather-clad hands touched his nipples, then his belly, slipping over his
hips, moving slowly downward. He gripped the sheets and bit his lower lip
to keep from screaming as Fraser finally reached his cock, stroking it
lovingly. "Jesus, oh, yeah, right there." 

 Ray hissed when Fraser fondled his balls as the other hand moved over his
inner right thigh. His whole body trembled as Fraser lifted his legs up
over his bare shoulders and proceeded to lick his cock with an eager
tongue, all the while moving those delicious gloves all over. Whimpering,
Ray allowed himself to drift with the flames, to shiver with the delicious
whips of heat snapping through every muscle. His head buzzed, swarming
with reds and yellows, full of images of Fraser petting him, controlling
him, loving him like no one ever had before. 

 Panting, he allowed the wave to take him, to carry him up and over as he
shuddered. Even then Fraser didn't release him, but kept sucking and
lapping. Ray groaned, the coming almost painful as he jerked upward, his
eyes squeezed shut against the explosion in his head, the ecstasy swelling
all over. He loved coming more than breathing so he traded off and came
even harder, seizing upward. Fraser's hands held him steady, let him keep
going as his mouth never stopped working. 

 Gasping for air, Ray finally relaxed, falling back. "Jesus." 

 Sliding up between his legs, a nude Fraser stretched up over him, his
lips dark red and puffy. Fraser leaned in and kissed him, his tongue
delving in, powerful and thick, completely relentless. 

 Ray swam in the mix of flavors, himself and his partner, sharp and musky.
Fraser's beard burned cheek to cheek as he settled beside him and
whispered, "I love you, Ray." 

 Love didn't half cover it for Ray, but he couldn't come up with anything
that sounded better. "Me, too, Fraser, me, too. God." 

 Sweat cooled and Fraser shifted, lying at Ray's side before pulling up
the blanket to cover them. He rested his head on his partner's chest, his
dark hair sticking to Ray's skin. "My theory appears to be correct. You,
indeed, do enjoy fine leather." 

 Ray closed his eyes, his voice husky. "You have no idea how hot you are,
buck naked and wearing nothing but black leather gloves." 

 The chuckle tickled his shoulder. Fraser snuggled against him, his arm
stretched across his chest. "Is it just the gloves or the leather?" 

 "Both." 

 "Ah." 

 "Yeah, ah, big time ah, as in, God I love your hands, gloves or no
gloves, but I really like leather." He hesitated, not sure if he should
even ask what Fraser thought, but decided he had to know. "You think it's
weird, me liking something kinky like this?" 

 It took an extra beat for Fraser to answer. "I wouldn't even label this
as kinky, Ray, not based on my experience." 

 The world suddenly got more real and a few degrees colder. Ray didn't
even want to go there, but his tongue had other ideas. "You talking about
what you did with Bullweather?" 

 "Yes, but I really prefer not to discuss it." 

 "Good. Me, neither, not when I'm feeling this good." He reached a hand
down and found Fraser still hard. "Besides, I've got other things to take
care of." He turned on his side, shifting Fraser to his back, meeting dark
blue eyes that returned his gaze, open and full of desire. 

 Sitting up, he let the blanket fall away as he straddled Fraser's groin,
leaning down for a kiss, first the mouth, then the eyes. His partner
shivered under him, letting Ray make the moves for a change. Ray nibbled
at Fraser's ear as he whispered, "What do you want, Fraser? What do you
want me to do?" 

 Fraser drew in a long breath, the words soft and needy. "I want you to
make love to me, Ray." 

 Sitting back up, Ray gulped and stared. For the first time in his life,
he regretted coming. "I just came, Fraser. It's going to take a few
minutes to get going again." 

 "I'm more than willing to wait, Ray, but that's what I'd really like." 

 Nodding, Ray smiled, growing more and more fond of the idea of fucking
Fraser, of doing something he'd longed to do for ages. Then he suddenly
frowned. "What about stuff?" 

 "Stuff?" 

 "Yeah, you know, condoms and jelly. Stuff." 

 Fraser grinned and, still wearing the gloves, took Ray's hand from his
chest, kissing the palm. "I took the liberty of getting the accouterments
we'll need to make the experience more enjoyable. They're in the side
table." 

 Ray laughed and shook his head. "What a good little Mountie we have
here." 

 Fraser shoved his hips up, his cock rubbing against Ray's backside. "Not
so little." 

 "You got that right. Jesus." Still smiling, Ray bent down and kissed him
some more, enjoying the salty oiliness of clean sweat. No more talking. He
needed to focus, to concentrate, to get Fraser ready, and to give himself
time to get hard again. He shifted downward and then stretched out,
letting his mouth have a field day with Fraser's nipples. He spent plenty
of time sucking, letting the nubs grow between his teeth. Meanwhile, he
rocked himself against Fraser's body while his partner used his gloved
hands to cup his ass, pulling their groins closer. 

 Ray raised his hips and shifted his knees so he could go lower as he
spread Fraser's thighs, exposing him completely. He'd never tasted
Fraser's dick, not once. He wanted to know what Fraser knew, wanted to
understand what he liked so much. Using just the tip of his tongue, he
flicked the crown. Fraser jerked upward and called out his name over and
over. Ray loved it, almost like a chant, a cheer to urge him forward. He
held the cock steady, pulling back the foreskin. Then he mouthed the tip,
the slick end silky and bitter against his tongue. Opening wider, he took
more of it in, the extended veins pulsing. The heat surprised him, nearly
burned him as he licked and then sucked, Fraser suddenly bucking and
thrusting deeper. A flood of bitterness nearly choked him, but he didn't
pull away, just did his best to swallow, finding he couldn't keep at it.
Finally, he released Fraser and wiped the come from his chin. 

 Ray shook his head as he climbed back up over Fraser, his own dick nearly
half hard again. "I'm sorry, Fraser. I didn't mean to put you over the
edge before we got a chance to do the other thing." 

 Fraser didn't answer. He just lay there stunned, his breathing harsh, his
face flushed, his hair plastered to his forehead. Ray moved to his side
and pulled him closer, rubbing his growing cock against Fraser's thigh.
"You still with me?" 

 Fraser finally managed a husky, "Dear Lord." 

 Laughing out loud, Ray buried his face against Fraser's sweaty chest.
"You liked that, huh?" 

 Arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer. "That was quite
remarkable, Ray. Thank you." 

 "You're welcome. Might have to hold off on the other for a few more
minutes." 

 Fraser kissed his temple, squeezing him gently. "I'm yours completely,
Ray." 

 Closing his eyes against the sting of tears, Ray stayed quiet, not
trusting his voice. His erection withered away slightly as he trembled.
After a few moments, Fraser whispered, "Are you all right?" 

 "More than all right, Fraser." 

 "Then what's wrong?" 

 "Nothing." 

 "You seem upset." 

 "I'm not, honest, at least not the way you think. It's just, I'm not used
to this." 

 "This? Do you mean sex with a man?" 

 "No, I mean you. I mean someone who loves me like you do." His words
choked. "I've never had anyone like you before, Fraser. It kind of scares
me." 

 "Scares you? Why?" 

 "It's just so different from what I'm used to. You want to please me so
much and I want to please you and I'm not used to having it both ways like
that. It's like better than I ever imagined." 

 "Are you saying Stella never tried to please you?" 

 "I don't want to talk about Stella, but no, not really, not like this. It
was all about making her feel good and I got off on that, but this is so
different, so much better. What if I fuck up? What if you decide you made
a mistake? What if I can't do it right? You know how I suck sometimes when
I'm not sure about stuff." 

 Fraser's hand palmed the middle of his chest and rolled him onto his
back. Then he shifted up and over Ray's body, straddling his chest as he
stared down into his eyes with a fierce intensity. "Listen to me, Ray
Kowalski. You please me, will always please me. Get that doubt right out
of your head and stop second guessing what's going to happen. Nobody knows
the future, but I want you in my life, always." 

 "Me, too, but..." 

 "No buts allowed here. Repeat after me, I am a brilliant lover and Fraser
loves me, always." 

 "Fraser." 

 "I mean it, Ray. Repeat after me, I am a brilliant lover and Fraser loves
me, always." 

 "Is this one of those affirmative things?" 

 "Affirmations. Yes, I believe it is. Now, say it." 

 Blushing intensely, Ray shook his head and refused. "It's silly. I feel
dumb." 

 Fraser moved his ass back and forth, rubbing it against Ray's chest as he
watched Ray carefully. Breathing quickened, Ray's cock once again took
interest. "Okay, okay, I'm a brilliant lover and Fraser loves me." 

 "Always." 

 "Always." 

 Fraser rewarded him with a kiss and then lowered his face to the crook of
his neck, sniffing deeply. "You smell delightful." 

 "I stink." 

 "On the contrary. You smell like love." 

 "Sex." 

 "Sex and love, yes, a wonderful combination." Nibbles at his ear and
licks up the side of his neck made Ray hard again. He lifted his knees and
positioned himself better to hold Fraser's weight. Closing his eyes, he
devoted himself to enjoying the moment, to ignoring the ghosts that kept
peeking out when he least expected them. Instead, he smiled as he realized
Fraser's erection had returned for an encore. 

 "So, how do you want to do this?" 

 "What?" 

 "If I'm going to do you, I have to know what you like." 

 Fraser sat up, his face and eyes bright. "Do me?" 

 "Yeah, you know, make love, do you, fuck." 

 "Ah, well, Ray, there are a variety of ways for anal intercourse to
occur. For example,..." 

 "Fraser, I know the ways, I just want to know which one you like best,
doggie style, face to face, or with you on top." 

 Fraser stilled for a moment. "You've done this before?" 

 Ray looked away, suddenly bashful, not really wanting to explain. "No." 

 "Then how..." 

 "I watched some videos, okay?" 

 "You watched instructional videos on anal intercourse?" 

 In full blush, Ray closed his eyes. "I rented some gay porn." 

 "Gay pornography?" 

 "Yeah." 

 Fraser leaned in, his legs stretching out, chest to chest. "I'm
surprised." 

 Ray finally met his eyes. "I was curious." 

 "What did you think?" 

 "Boy meets boy, boy fucks boy, boy sucks boy, boy gets fucked. The plots
sucked as much as the guys did." 

 Fraser laughed and shook his head. "I've never seen one. I think I'd be
too embarrassed to rent anything that explicit." 

 "You can do it, but not watch, huh?" 

 "I'd much rather do than watch, Ray." 

 The sultry invitation drew Ray's focus back to Fraser. "You didn't answer
my question. How do you want to do it?" 

 Fraser captured Ray's head between his two gloved hands and kissed him
deeply. Then he whispered, "I want to see you, Ray, and face to face is
the best way to do that." 

 "You sure?" 

 "Absolutely." 

 "It won't hurt? Don't I need to get you ready first or something?" 

 "Using your finger and plenty of lubricant should be sufficient." 

 Ray swallowed hard, suddenly reluctant. No way did he want to harm
Fraser. "But it's been a while. Are you sure it won't hurt?" 

 "It might be uncomfortable at first, but I assure you, that passes and
it's an incredible sensation." 

 "You really like it?" 

 Fraser tilted his head, studying him, his eyes intense. "If you're
uncomfortable with the idea, we don't have to do this, Ray." 

 "No, no, it's okay. It's just," Ray hesitated, working to drive away the
unwanted thoughts. "I don't know if I can ever let you do me like that." 

 "Understood." 

 "And that doesn't bother you?" 

 "Not at all." 

 "So, you don't want to ever do me?" 

 "Only if you wanted me to and only when you're ready." 

 "And if I'm never ready?" 

 "Then I'd let you do the honors for as long as you like." Fraser sealed
that statement with another kiss and then rolled off Ray. He reached over
into the drawer of the side table and got the condom and lubricant. He
handed the bottle to Ray. "Use your finger and when you're ready, I'll put
on the condom for you. We'll go slowly at first." 

 Lying on his back, he spread his legs and Ray moved between them. He
positioned Fraser's calves on his shoulders and then flipped the lid of
the KY jelly, slicking his fingers. Using his right index, he ran it up
and down his partner's crack and then found the hole. He eased his finger
in as Fraser's breathing got a lot faster. As he pushed further in, he hit
a hard knot, and Fraser jerked up, his words in between hisses. "That's
it. Oh, yes, Ray, yes." 

 Ray did it again and Fraser moaned deeply, his face red as he writhed at
each contact. His cock leaked as Ray finger-fucked him, adding more and
more jelly until it was all good and slick. 

 "Put the rubber on me, Frase." 

 Fumbling with the foil package, Fraser ripped it open and reached down
between his legs as Ray thrust his hips up higher. Condom rolled on,
Fraser lay back and Ray added more jelly. Moving in closer, he guided his
cock as Fraser used his legs to steady himself. "Ready?" 

 "Please, Ray, now." 

 Fraser's eyes grew darker, but they didn't close, just watched as Ray
edged the crown of his cock inside, the opening tight. "Tell me if you
need me to stop." 

 "Don't stop." 

 "I'm not stopping." 

 "Please, just fuck me." 

 Startled at the urgent words, Ray stared at his partner and smiled,
realizing for the first time how much Fraser wanted to be fucked. "God,
you really want this." 

 "Ray, you're being cruel. Please, get on with it." 

 "Bossy Mountie." 

 Before Fraser could protest, Ray shoved harder, his cock thrusting in
several inches before meeting too much resistance. He pulled back and
pushed again, this time going further. With each try, he went deeper,
until he finally buried himself. He paused, watching Fraser's face, seeing
the need. His own cock begged to get going, to stop fooling around with
slow and easy. Leaning in, stretching his back to the limit, he kissed
Fraser. "You ready?" 

 "I swear, Ray..." 

 "I take that as a yes." Words finished, he raised up and pumped, the
friction on his dick like velvet turned to a blaze up his spine, a fire
storm in his brain. His world became the piston of his hips as he thrust
in over and over. Fucking Fraser came down to power and surrender,
submission and strength. He needed this as much as Fraser, to have his
lover's gift, to receive it without question, to know it as right. Gasping
in air, he kept going, sweat rolling down his face and chest, his thighs
shaking from the effort. Fraser's whimpers spurred him to go faster, to
ram harder, to make both their worlds burn to ashes. 

 His balls slapped against Fraser's ass, the rhythmic thwack of flesh
mingled with Fraser's moans and his own pants a real turn on. He wanted to
fuck forever, the arousal sending this head and his dick to Heaven.
Suddenly, with one last deep thrust, the rush swelled larger, larger than
ever. It blasted his brain into space, his body wrenching so hard, he
screamed with coming. Below him Fraser shook, too, his cock spilling come
all over. With a final grunt, Ray collapsed on top of Fraser, his eyes
closed, his heart needing more air than his lungs could feed it. 

 After a few moments, Fraser's winded voice whispered, "Good God." 

 And Ray kept his mouth shut, because he couldn't have said it better.	

 "Do we have everything?" Ray ran a nervous hand through his hair and
scanned the bedroom. "I know I'm forgetting something." 

 "Did you check the list?" 

 "I couldn't find the list. You're the list person, not me." 

 Fraser's calm voice annoyed him. "A list can help alleviate unnecessary
anxiety, Ray. All you have to do is..." 

 "Fraser." 

 "Yes?" 

 "Shut up." 

 Instead of being upset, Fraser just nodded. "Understood. Would you like
me to make a quick inspection of your bag?" 

 "I can inspect my own bag. I just think there's something I'm
forgetting." 

 "Did you get your medications?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "Your clothes?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "Your camera?" 

 "Bingo. That's it." Ray went to the closet and pulled out his camera
case. He put it on the bed and opened it, making sure he had the extra
lens and film. "I'm glad you reminded me." 

 "It was on the list, Ray." 

 Ray shook his head, trying very hard not to get angry with Fraser's
version of I told you so. "Worry about your own list. I mean, is that all
you're taking?" 

 Fraser patted his rucksack and nodded. I don't need that many personal
items. I'm used to living in the arctic." 

 "Fraser, you haven't really been in the arctic for a while now. Don't you
think you might want to take some heavier gear, too?" 

 "I'll be fine, Ray. I assure you, I'm more than able to deal with the
harsh environment. In fact, I'm looking forward to seeing Yellowknife
again." 

 "I can see that." And he could. Not only did Fraser look downright
well-fucked, but seriously happy for the first time in weeks. What a great
smile. "I'm glad we're doing this, Fraser. It'll be good to get away, just
the two of us. It'll be great, real greatness." He looked at the clock and
then his watch. "That is, once we get there. Frannie's running late as
usual. We should've gotten Welsh to take us to the airport. He gets
somewhere half an hour early and he thinks he's late." 

 "There's no need to worry, Ray. I told Frannie a time that was at least
an hour earlier than when we really need to be there." 

 Ray grinned. "You old fox, you. You're finally catching on." 

 "Well, I wasn't trying to be deceitful. I've just learned in my
association with Francesca, that one needs to make adjustments in the time
frame if one wishes to arrive promptly." 

 "Like I said, you fox, you. I like it." 

 Ray did one more quick check of his suit case. Before he could close it,
Fraser stopped him. "Ray, is that your gun?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "You know you can't take a gun into Canada." 

 "I'm a cop." 

 "That's not the issue. You're still not allowed to take your gun across
the border." 

 Frowning, Ray reached in and pulled out the small weapon. He held it in
his palm like an offering. "It's just my back up gun." 

 "Ray..." 

 "I know, I know. No guns across the border, got it. Can I at least have a
gun when we get to where we're going, a shotgun or a rifle maybe?" 

 Fraser studied him a few moments before he finally answered. "I can apply
for a temporary hunting permit. I'm sure Alan will have some rifles we can
use while we're there." 

 "Alan?" 

 "Yes, Alan McClain. He's the friend who's loaning us his cabin." 

 "I don't think you told me his name before." 

 "Does it matter?" 

 "Not really." Ray sighed and then stepped to the bureau. He pulled out a
drawer and put the gun in the lockbox. Keeping his back to Fraser, he
confessed, "I feel naked without a gun. Anything could happen." 

 "Nothing's going to happen that requires firearms." 

 Ray turned, suddenly angry. "You don't know that. Look what happened when
you and Vecchio tried to go to your cabin that time. Look at what happens
just about anytime we travel. It's like we're doomed to get kidnapped or
mugged or..." The words stuck in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut.
He couldn't finish, couldn't find any way to say what he really feared.
Fraser's unexpected touch startled him and he jumped. "What?" 

 "Are you all right?" 

 "I'm fine. I just don't like traveling if I'm not carrying." 

 Fraser wrapped his arms around him and drew him into a hug. "We'll be
fine, Ray." 

 Sighing, trying hard to relax, Ray failed miserably. "I don't mean to be
this way, all crazy and nervous, but I keep thinking that I'm going to
wake up and you'll be gone, vamoosed back to Canada all by your lonesome.
Hell, I wouldn't blame you if you pulled a getaway, not with me being such
a pain in the ass." 

 "There's no need to be nervous, Ray. People travel back and forth to
Canada all the time. We'll go through Edmonton, have a slight layover, and
then head on to Yellowknife. Alan's going to meet the plane and then take
us to the RCMP station. We'll pick up a vehicle there and any other gear
or extra food that we need. The cabin's about fifteen minutes north of the
city." 

 "So, when do you think we'll get there?" 

 "If we're lucky, without delays, by late tonight." 

 "And if we're not?" 

 "Sometime tomorrow or Monday." 

 "Two days? It could take two days to get there?" 

 "It shouldn't. I'm just saying it depends on the weather. Right now the
extended forecast looks promising." 

 Ray took a deep breath and met Fraser's eye. "So, if we get delayed,
we'll be camping out at the airport?" 

 "Yes." 

 "You think we could make out in the men's rooms in Canada without getting
arrested?" 

 Caught off guard, Fraser laughed out loud. "Ray, be serious." 

 Ray hugged his middle and rested his head on Fraser's chest. Fraser
smelled so good, like leather and pine mixed with fresh cotton. He sniffed
and then rubbed his face against his flannel shirt. "I am. I don't think I
can keep my hands off you that long." He growled deep in his throat. "In
fact, if Frannie doesn't get here soon, I might have to get a Mountie fix
before we take off." 

 The door buzzed and Ray shook his head, cursing Frannie's lousy Vecchio
timing. 

 Concluded in Part Four 

End BYGONES Part Three by Grey: Grey853@aol.com

Author and story notes above.