Melted Candles #5: Sinner	   Melted Candles #5: Sinner

 by Gilda Lily

  

 Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/8741/jmgarden.htm

 Disclaimer: Alliance owns them but I'm the one who gets to use the whip
on them occasionally

 Author's Notes: This is the fifth in the "MELTED CANDLES" series. This
series will explore the ramifications of Benny's decision to go with
Victoria and Ray's bullet missing him on the train platform in "VICTORIA'S
SECRET". It will also be a two-part psychological study: is Frankie Zuko
completely irredeemable, or are there good qualities in him? Ray loved him
once. Would he love anyone who had no redeeming qualities whatsoever? As
for the second part: does the core of a person remain the same, no matter
what 'universe' they are in? Or does essential parts of self change with
changed circumstances? We will see as Ray and Benny struggle to live in
the world one fateful decision gave them. 

 Story Notes: Pairings: Frankie/Ray, perhaps Ray/Ben. Aw, what the heck.
Let's throw in a little Ray/Renny while we're at it! :) 
Categories: Drama, Series, AU. 
Rating: NC-17. 
Warning: Rape. Darkness. 
(c)October 14, 2001.

 This story is a sequel to: Melted Candles #4: Storm 

 

 I
 MASS 

 I lit 
 A hundred candles
 In the hope
 That she would return 

 Ben lay curled up on his side on his bed, his naked body lying on top of
the sheets. It was cold and dark in the room, reflecting the weather
outside. Rain fell in steady torrents, lashing against the window when the
wind blew. The window was open a crack, the icy air brushing over pale
Canadian skin. 

 The smell of tomato sauce wafted through the house. It was Sunday, and
the cook had left it simmering on the stove when she'd gone to church. Ray
was attending Mass with his family, and Frankie would be in his family pew
with Charlie and his bodyguards. Frankie believed in the old ways. Sunday
was a day of rest. He altered his bodyguard schedules so that they could
all get most Sundays off. 

 Ben was exempt from Mass. He wasn't Italian and he wasn't Catholic. He
was simply a betrayer, the worst kind of sinner. 

 He lay frozen, his mind a blank. He let the rain flood into his brain,
wishing it would wash away his sins. 

 The tick of the grandfather clock in the hall was loud. Ben stared at the
wall, the aroma of tomato sauce keeping him from drifting away into that
abyss which had swallowed him up in prison so often. 

 Unfortunately, it had always disgorged back into reality. 

 He stayed immobile until the sound of two cars driving up reached his
sensitive ears. 

 Two car doors slammed. One car drove off. Ray and Frankie and the
bodyguards would be walking toward the house. This Sunday Ray had opted to
dine with Frankie, who appreciated the gesture. They would spend a quiet
afternoon, perhaps go upstairs and make love, but it would be all low-key.
Ben would accept Frankie's invitation to share dinner, then would walk all
afternoon. He would return at dusk, declining supper, and go up to his
room and read before turning in. 

 Ignoring his breaking heart. 

 He heard the murmur of voices in the foyer and rose from the bed,
dressing with precision. He wore jeans and a white knit sweater. Ray and
Frankie would change into more casual clothes, and then leisurely read the
Sunday paper until Cook announced dinner. Ben heard Ray and Frankie's
footsteps in the hall, Ray going to his own room. Despite the fact that he
spent many nights in Frankie's room, he had insisted upon a room of his
own. Ben took that as a good sign, though for the life of him he didn't
know why he should be hoping for signs he couldn't fathom. 

 After he heard both men go downstairs, he followed. 

 "Good morning, Fraser," Frankie said heartily. 

 Ben murmured a greeting, painfully aware that Ray had said nothing, then
his ex-partner raised his gaze from the front page and said coolly,
"'Morning, Fraser." 

 Grateful even for that, Ben answered, "Good morning, Ray." 

 He took a seat in an overstuffed chair. Frankie was in the other chair.
Ray was on the end of the couch closest to Frankie. Ben took the local
section of the paper and began to read, heart triphammering as he smelled
the faint scent of Armani cologne. His hands trembled and he willed them
to stop. 

 He managed to read several more sections of the paper before Cook called
them to dinner. The dishes were laid out on the red-checked dining-room
table, the Chianti bottle a whimsical touch. Frankie inhaled the scent of
the plate of pasta set before him. "Oh, Cook, this is really fine." 

 Ben remembered the delicious aroma and taste of Rosa Vecchio's cooking,
and the pang nearly took away his entire appetite. He picked up his fork
and began to eat the sauce-laden rotini, appreciating the taste but
knowing that Rosa's would always be best. 

 "Mmm, Cook sure is a treasure, Frankie. Don't lose her," Ray said. 

 "Nah, she likes cooking for the Don of the South Side," Frankie said with
a wink. 

 Ray laughed, Ben keeping silent. His stomach knotted at the banter
between the two Italians. He took a roll from the basket that Cook offered
and buttered it, trying to focus on the food. He managed to finish his
plate, then ate the spumoni that was served for dessert. When it was over,
he helped Cook carry the plates to the kitchen and went upstairs to get
his jacket. He heard laughter drift down from Frankie's bedroom and he
left the house at a brisk pace. 

 He walked the grounds, the rain soaking him as he entered the wooded area
at the edge of the estate. The rain was cold, seeping into his empty
places as he walked over stubbled ground, the harsh late-winter winds
buffeting his body. He walked for miles under the weak sun. He realized
that he had to turn back and by the time he reached the estate, darkness
had fallen. He glanced up, but no light was on in Frankie's bedroom. There
was a light on in the living room. 

 He went through the kitchen, careful to leave his workboots in the
mudroom, and climbed the main staircase. He was beginning to shiver,
dampness in every pore, his hair plastered down, and so he took a hot
shower. He went downstairs to the living room, dressed in a flannel shirt
and jeans. 

 He didn't miss a flicker going through Ray's eyes when the Italian looked
up. 

 "Glad to see you again, Fraser," said Frankie from his relaxed position
in his chair, his smirk an unpleasant addition to his face. "Work up an
appetite for supper?" 

 "Yes," Ben answered quietly. 

 "So did we." Frankie winked at Ray, who laughed. Ben ignored the stab of
pain in his stomach. 

 Supper was cold pasta, steamed broccoli, rice, and cucumbers. Ben took
small portions, listening to the banter of his companions and appreciating
the flavors of the meal. 

 The rest of the evening was quiet, and when Ben went to bed, he fell into
a deep, dreamless sleep, despair quietly eating at his heart. 

 II
 PENANCE 

 *She came back,*
 And my soul melted
 The wick drowning
 In its own hellfire 

 Frankie made his usual rounds during the week, collecting the tribute due
to him as Don of the South Side. The actual collection of monetary tribute
was done by his Organization men, whose gifts of persuasion were
legendary. Ben kept his eyes open for any attackers but none materialized.
He remained silent as he sat next to Tonio in the front seat of the
limousine while Ray and Frankie sat in the back. He did exchange
pleasantries with the chauffeur, always amazed that his vocal cords still
worked. He had thought that they would have been damaged beyond repair in
prison. Screaming your throat raw could do that to you. 

 All in all, it was a pretty peaceful week, until Frankie dropped his
bombshell.  

 "So, tell your mother that I would be happy to accept her invitation to
dinner tomorrow night." 

 Ray looked uncomfortable, busying himself with pouring a glass of apple
juice on this sparkling Thursday morning in the breakfast nook. 

 Ben's fork had frozen halfway to his mouth. He put it down. Suddenly his
stomach was tied up in knots, and the eggs nauseated him. 

 "She'll be glad to hear it," Ray said, smiling at Frankie and studiously
avoiding Ben's panicked eyes. 

 I will be going to the Vecchios'. To the home of the people I betrayed,
because I betrayed Ray. And I nearly caused them to lose their home in the
literal sense. 

 Ben left the table abruptly and ran to the bathroom, promptly losing his
breakfast.  

 Ben was chalk-white as he sat beside Tonio, the chauffeur giving him
sympathetic glances. He knew the gist of the story but as any good
Organization man knew, he kept his mouth shut. He turned the car onto
North Octavia, Ben barely breathing. He was as stiff as Frankenstein's
monster when he got out of the car. 

 Frankie and Ray went up the steps of the front porch, Ben trailing
behind. His stomach was rock-hard. The door opened and Maria smiled a
greeting to Frankie and Ray. The tantalizing smells of tomato sauce made
Ben's mouth water. Maria's expressive eyes darkened at the sight of Ben.
Low words were exchanged between brother and sister, then Ray turned and
said, "Wait here." Ben nodded, the door closing. 

 He paced up and down the porch, acutely aware of eyes watching him from
every house on the street. Did they all know about his betrayal? His
throat was painfully dry. 

 He turned and froze. Francesca was standing in the doorway, looking
beautiful in a demurely-cut black dress and high heels. Her
perfectly-made-up face was a thundercloud. 

 "You don't step foot in this house. Got that?" 

 He nodded and winced as she slammed the door in his face. 

 The cold of a late winter seemed to seep into his bones. It was April,
but felt more like March. He paced up and down with restless energy,
unable to leave his post but unable to leave this limbo of shame. He
didn't even have Dief for company. There was no way that the wolf could be
pried away from Rosa's cooking. 

 So he waited, an outcast, while the Vecchios and Frankie laughed and
enjoyed a delicious meal in the warmth of the house. He quickly dashed
away a tear. 

 There was no use in feeling sorry for himself. Every indignity that
befell him was richly deserved. He was a betrayer who had committed an
unpardonable sin. He had to spend the rest of his life in atonement. It
was that simple. 

 He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. Besides, he had been alone
before coming to Chicago for the first time years ago. If he had to be
alone again, what of it? He could endure. 

 His heart whispered something else but he ignored it. 

 The door opened and he jumped. His muscles went rigid but he forced
himself to turn and greet whomever was standing behind him. He saw Ray
holding out a plate of pasta. 

 "You'd better eat it out here. I know it's cold out, but I also know you
don't mind." 

 Ray placed the plate on the railing and Ben quickly shot out a hand to
steady it. He accepted the glass of ginger ale that Ray gave him. 

 "Thank you," he rasped.  Ray nodded and went back inside, turning to look
at Ben, who was already gazing down at the pasta. The door closed quietly
behind Ray. Ben's mouth watered. The smell drifted up and tickled his
nostrils. So rich, so good! He picked up the fork and dug into the ziti
that dripped with tomato sauce. He let his taste buds revel and closed his
eyes. Just as he remembered. He ate steadily, unable to stop to even pause
for breath. Finally he drank some ginger ale and then finished off the
plate. He set it down carefully on the porch, wanting desperately to look
in a window at soft, golden light inside the cozy house. Pride and fear
kept his back to the windows. Pride. What a joke. Ray would laugh himself
silly. The eyes were watching him. He felt as if a target was printed on
his chest. If it wasn't for the fact that he was Frankie's bodyguard, he'd
be singing Soprano right now. The door opened again. Ray. "It was
delicious, thank you kindly, Ray." "You're welcome." Ben wondered if Rosa
knew about Ray's generosity. "Well, we'll be leavin' pretty soon." Ben
nodded. "You need to use the john?" "No, thank you." Ray nodded and
disappeared back inside. Ben took a deep breath and waited until it was
time to leave. *** Ben sat bolt upright in bed, his mouth opened in a
soundless scream. Shaking violently, he looked wildly around the dark
bedroom. His naked body was coated in sweat and he slowly lay back down,
his heart threatening to thump out of his chest. He curled up into a
shivering ball as whispers echoed in his ears.	

 III
 CONTRITION 

 I plunged myself
 Into darkness
 And dragged down
 The one I love
 A slow, terrible burn
 Til the Light was gone 

 Ray took a deep breath, then glided the Riv into a familiar spot outside
the Canadian Consulate. The maple leaf flag whipped in the wind of a cold,
gray Chicago day. He got out of the car with his usual grace, passing the
stone-like Mountie guarding the entryway. He smiled at the frozen man,
then walked up the steps with quick bounces. 

 The foyer's white floor was polished to a blinding gleam, his footsteps
echoing. He went up the winding staircase and smiled at the young man who
began to say, "Welcome to the Canadian Consulate...Ray!" 

 "Hiya, Renny." 

 Renfield Turnbull beamed at the sight of the American. "How are you?" 

 "Great." They shook hands, then Ray said, "Renny, I...I feel kinda
awkward asking you for a favor, after not bein' able to come around so
much." 

 "I understand perfectly, Ray." 

 The thing of it was, Renny did understand. And that made it a little
harder, but Ray knew that life sucked sometimes. He began to pace up and
down in front of Renny's desk. 

 "I was wondering if you could get me information on a Canadian citizen
who served time in an American prison." 

 "Certainly. And that would be..?" 

 "Benton Fraser."  

 Ray felt guilty about asking for the favor, but Renny promised to get in
touch with him in a few days with the information. Ray drove around the
lake after leaving the Consulate, parking by the hot dog stand. It was
closed and so he was alone as the water rippled in the wind. An old hot
dog wrapper blew by the windshield. 

 Renny had kept him sane in the days right after Fraser had leapt on that
train. Faced with the ruin of his career, loss of his house and his family
out in the street, and possible prison time for himself, he'd been at his
wits' end. He hadn't known where to turn. One day he had found himself
outside the Consulate. Numb with pain, he had entered the building. Renny
had been there. 

 He was devastated at the betrayal of his hero, too. Ray had known that
the younger Constable had entertained a crush on his superior officer, but
there had also been an attraction between them. It had started simply
enough. Ray had been impatient with Turnbull at first, but soon realized
that the young man was vulnerable, and that had kicked in his protective
instincts. He had sensed a wounded spirit, perhaps close to what he had
suffered at his alcoholic father's hands. Whatever the reasons, he had
started being more patient with the nervous Constable, more patient than
even Benton Fraser. His kindness and lack of a sharp tongue when dealing
with the young Constable helped their attraction grow. 

 And when Ray had needed him most, Renny was there. 

 Both had been hurting, but Renny had understood the absolute devastation
of Ray's life. And whether or not Ray just needed someone in red serge to
love him, Renny had filled that need. Ray had made desperate love with
him, and would have continued, but then Frankie had entered the picture
and the sexual relationship with Renny had to end, but the friendship
continued. Frankie allowed it, amused by Ray still having a Canadian
connection, and so Renny was safe. 

 Ray wasn't sure why he had asked Renny for the information. Why should he
care what had happened to Fraser in prison? And did he want to know? He
shivered and pulled his coat closer around himself. He had a good
imagination, and perhaps seeing the facts in stark black-and-white was
more than he cared to know. 

 But Fraser had been so forlorn after the dinner at home, and Ray was
feeling an urge to find out more of what he had suffered, because his
partner had been thoroughly humiliated at the home of his former best
friend. 

 There had also been the whimper he'd heard. He had been passing Fraser's
room one night after a trip to the bathroom, and he had heard a whimper
from the bedroom. He had quietly opened the door and had seen the Canadian
tossing in the throes of a nightmare. He had settled down as Ray watched
and so Ray had gone back to his own bed, but he had been bothered by it. 

 Maybe Ray shouldn't care, but he couldn't help it.  

 The diner was the one that he and Fraser had often frequented. Ignoring
the pang in his chest, Ray smiled at Renny and slid into the seat opposite
him in the booth. 

 "Hello, Ray." 

 "Hiya, Renny." 

 Renny picked up a manila envelope from the seat. "I've got what you
requested." 

 "Great, Renny!" Ray put it beside him and concentrated on Renny. He would
read the information later. He needed to be alone when that happened. "So,
how's the Inspector?" 

 "Inspector Carlyle is on holiday right now, Ray." 

 Andrew Carlyle had been Margaret Thatcher's replacement. She had replaced
Moffat, who had been called back to Canada after one of his Mounties had
run off with a criminal. She had made Renny more nervous than ever, but
once Carlyle had come, he had gained more confidence and was now quietly
competent. 

 "Hey, you and Stanley gonna go away this weekend?" 

 Renny blushed. "Yes." 

 Ray laughed. He was glad that Renny had found someone. After he'd been
forced to resign from the force to join Frankie, Stanley Raymond Kowalski
had been assigned to the 27th Precinct and even had his old desk! Ray had
worked with Kowalski a few times and knew that he was a good cop. He had
approved of Kowalski and Renny getting together, knowing that they were
good for each other. He had even slipped Renny the tip about the supply
closet as a good make-out place. 

 "Thanks again, Renny," Ray said later as he prepared to leave the diner.
He was stopped by a large hand on his arm. He looked into affectionate
blue eyes, and also saw the concern there. 

 "Please be careful, Ray." 

 Warmed by the younger man's concern, he smiled. "You know me, Ren. Always
watchin' my back." He just hoped that a knife wouldn't end up in it
someday. 

 He breezed out of the diner with the envelope as he returned to the world
of the Mob.  

 Later that night Ben went into the exercise room at the Zuko house. He
used a myriad of machines, then settled on the weights. He lifted the
barbells, grunting with the exertion. Sweat gleamed on his arms and legs
as he pushed up and down. His hair curled damply as he continued the
exercises, the muscles clearly outlined as his T-shirt stretched taut
across his chest. 

 He never noticed the shadow in the doorway. 

 That night, he had another nightmare. 

 IV
 CONFESSION  

 Now my life
 Is misshapen
 Like cooling wax
 And I yearn
 To see the Light
 Once again 

 Ben received a summons the next day. He felt his stomach flutter as he
prepared himself to go to the master bedroom at the end of the hall that
evening. He bathed and combed his hair, a fine tremor running through his
body. 

 He walked down to the bedroom, quietly opening the door. 

 Frankie was lolling on the king-sized bed, his ever-present smirk filling
Ben's vision. He could see Ray in his peripheral vision, and his stomach
muscles tightened. 

 "Come on up...Fraser." 

 Whenever Frankie hesitated before speaking his name, Ben knew that he had
almost said 'Constable'. Whether he did it on purpose or not, Ben never
knew. 

 Ice creeped through his veins. The whispers started, teasing him as they
mocked and laughed. The slight tremors continued as he walked to the bed.
Frankie held out his arms. 

 He climbed onto the bed. Faces blurred and coelesced, hands grasping his
arms as he whimpered deep in his throat. He could feel hairy skin against
his body, and a mouth fastened onto his, its tongue pushing deep between
his lips. Laughter drifted across his ears as he felt himself being pushed
down, a hard cock brushing against his penis and the tongue deep-throating
him... 

 With a gasp and cry, he shoved Frankie off him and bolted from the room. 


 "This is getting to be a habit. A bad one." 

 Ray shifted uneasily at the aggrieved tone from Frankie. His lover's
mouth was twisted in a way that Ray recognized as losing patience with
Fraser's disappearing act. He laid a hand on Frankie's arm. "I'll take
care of it." 

 "All right." Frankie's eyes were glittering. "He shouldn't tease me this
way, Ray." 

 "Yeah." Ray threw Frankie a smile. "I know you're impatient." 

 Frankie lounged against the pillows. "Not if the prize is worth it." His
smile belied the hard cast of his eyes. Ray felt a flutter in his stomach.


 "Yeah, well, keep your pants off, Frankie. I'll be back." 

 Ray went out into the hall, unmindful of his nudity as he searched for
Fraser. He saw the man sitting at the end of the hall, his head and arms
resting on his knees. Ray approached him carefully. 

 "Fraser," he said softly. 

 Ben didn't look up. Ray knelt beside him, one hand reaching out but
stopping short several inches from the other man's arm. He dropped his
hand and waited. 

 "I was attacked my first night in prison." 

 Ray strained to hear. Ben's voice was so soft he thought he might have
imagined the words. He wished that he had. 

 "I fought them as best as I could, but there were too many of them. Big,
hairy, laughing, cursing...they wanted a 'Mountee' and I understood what
they were saying by their emphasis. I...I lost count after twelve. I don't
know if the same twelve kept raping me or there were more. They stretched
me out on my back and while one raped me orally, the other would rape me
anally. When one set was done, another two took their places." 

 Ray felt bile rise in his throat. What he'd feared was true, only worse.
He hadn't had a chance to read the folder that Renny had given him yet. 

 "The pain became a burning numbness after awhile. I nearly choked on the
semen they kept pouring down my throat. I was bleeding from my buttocks. I
was kept in the infirmary for four days, then released. They came for me
again that night." 

 Ben continued in a voice that suggested he was reading from a medical
book. No emotional inflection marred his tone, yet Ray could see the fine
tremors of his body. 

 "They were more careful this time. I didn't wind up in the infirmary.
Night after night they raped me. I was numb with shock. When I asked a
guard for help, he laughed at me and said it was what a dirty cop
deserved. 

 "Finally one of the bigger inmates came to me with a proposition. If I
agreed to service him, he would keep me safe from the gang rapes. I also
had to agree to obey him unconditionally, or be given to anyone he chose.
I was so shellshocked that I agreed. Anything to stop the hell. 

 "Of course, I'd only traded one hell for another. Argan was brutal,
forcng me to start my end of the bargain that very night. His first name
was George, you know." Ben's voice was now almost conversational, Ray
noted with horror. "I was in his bed every night. I did everything he
demanded. 

 "One time I was too slow. He gave me to the cellblock. I strove hard to
please him more than ever after that. One other time I balked at a demand.
I was on all fours that very night servicing a long line with my mouth
while they pounded me from behind in the ass. This time it wasn't free.
They had to pay, so for a pack of cigarettes they were given the privilege
of fucking me, front and back. Each set required a new pack. Argan was
rich in cigarettes after that night." 

 Ray felt close to losing his dinner. His palms were sweaty and his heart
pounded. 

 "I had tried so hard to fight them, but it was useless. I would lay awake
beside him some nights, listening to him breathe as he slept and kept
trying to blank my mind. I could go around like a zombie most of the time,
but during the rapes I felt everything crystal-clear. The mind is funny,
isn't it?" 

 Ray reached out a hand and laid it on Ben's arm. "Oh, Benny," he
whispered. 

 Ben raised tear-swimming eyes. "You called me 'Benny'." 

 Startled, Ray admitted, "I guess I did." He squeezed Ben's arm. "Go to my
room and wait there." 

 Ben meekly did as he was told, Ray helping him up. For a moment they
stood there in the hall, gazing at each other, then Ray said gently, "Go."


 While Ben went to his room, Ray went back to Frankie. An insolent smirk
was on the mobster's face. 

 "So what's with Shy Boy?" 

 Ray felt his stomach clench but kept his voice casual. "He's spooked,
Frankie." 

 "By me? I'm harmless." 

 Like a cobra. 

 Love didn't blind Ray to Frankie's faults. He shook his head. "He was
passed around like a pack of smokes until he became someone's bitch." 

 "Ah." For a brief moment, sympathy flickered in Frankie's eyes.  "I need
to gentle him." A strange light came into Frankie's eyes. "You mean fuck
him." Ray hoped that his shrug appeared casual while his heart pounded.
"Maybe. But we got to go slow." Oh, Benny. Frankie thought it over. "Okay,
I'll give you time. But don't neglect me, Ray." "Never." Ray leaned over
and kissed Frankie lightly on the lips. Frankie grabbed his arms and
deepened the kiss. When they parted, an odd vulnerability was reflected in
chocolate-brown eyes. "Just remember, I need taking care of." Then Frankie
winked saucily. Ray laughed. "Sure, Frankie." "Now, go to the Canuck." Ray
smiled and left while the getting was good. "Yeah, Ray, you go fuck the
Canuck." Frankie murmured. "Because you won't be the only one." When Ray
reached his bedroom, rarely used because he usually slept with Frankie, he
saw Ben standing ramrod-straight by the dresser. He was still naked. Ray
held out his hand and Ben hesitated, as if unsure that Ray could mean the
gesture. He finally took it and Ray led him to the bed. Ben became
skittish but Ray said, "It's okay, Benny. Lie down." Ben obeyed, stiff and
miserable. Ray got into bed beside him and gently took Ben into his arms.
"Sleep now, Benny. It's all right. I promise." The moonlight streamed in
through the blinds, dappling the Canadian's body. Ben allowed himself to
relax, and to his surprise, he fell asleep almost instantly. Ray didn't
sleep for a very long time.  

 If only..  E-Mail: jeanniemarie@sprintmail.com 

End Melted Candles #5: Sinner by Gilda Lily: jeanniemarie@sprintmail.com

Author and story notes above.