Nevermore	   Nevermore

 by Viridian5

  

 Author's website: http://www.mrks.org/~viridian/

 Disclaimer: All things _due South_ belong to Alliance no matter how much
I want Ray K to belong to me. Music used in the story that's not
identified in the text consists of "Superstition" by Stevie Wonder; "A
Love Bizarre" by Sheila E. with Prince; "Punk Lolita" by The Heads with
Debbie Harry, Johnette Napolitano, & Tina Weymouth; "Juke-Joint Jezebel"
by KMFDM; "Neurozone" by Chemlab; and "I Wanna Be Sedated" by The ramones.
_Blade Runner_ belongs to Philip K. Dick, Ridley Scott, Hampton 
Fancher, Blade Runner Partnership, The Ladd Company, and Embassy Pictures
Corporation. No infringement intended. Suing me would be a waste of time.
Besides, I'd just kick you in the head.

 Author's Notes: Thanks to LaT and Kit for beta above and beyond. Thanks
to realitycek, LaT, Kass, Kasha, Beth, and Pares for support and insights.
Thanks to Ladonna and realitycek for help on the mystical stuff and to my
brother on the Army stuff. Kasha suggested what Walker's tattoo should be
and that they play at a yuppie pool place. 

 Story Notes: "Call of the Wild" is especially spoiled, but this one deals
with just about the whole series. 
Fourth in the Borderlands (One for sorrow) series after "Amigos," "One for
Sorrow," and "Long, Long Way from Home." 
That bit in "Call of the Wild" where Fraser reveals the cast's futures
doesn't work for me, even aside from Ray Vecchio coughing up an actual
golden bullet, he and Stella going to Florida to run a bowling alley, and
Frannie's immaculate conceptions. So 
some of these were changed here. Besides, some of the futures had to
unfold over years, so *when* is Fraser telling us about leaving with Ray
to look for the Hand of Franklin? Given the holes and improbabilities, I
took liberties. 
The Rachel Walker here and her past with Ray are parallel to what's
mentioned in "In a Box," but "In a Box" is *not* part of Borderlands.
That's the way things work out when you write so many "Call of the
Wild"-related stories. <g> 
The Cure's "Watching Me Fall" influenced the parliament of ravens dream
and Ray's morning identity crisis, while the Fraser/Ray club scene was set
to "Silence (Airscape mix)" by Delerium featuring Sarah McLachlan.
Sometimes Fraser's theme song is "No Big Bang" by The Heads with Maria 
McKee. Switchblade Symphony's _The Three Calamities_ is the official
soundtrack for the Borderlands (One for Sorrow) series. I wish I'd
discovered Poe's _Haunted_ earlier, because it's perfect, but at least it
had a huge role in writing the final bits and editing the whole. 
Started: 3/00 
Finished: 12/6/01

 This story is a sequel to: Long, Long Way From Home 

 

 "He said true things, but called them by wrong names."  Robert Browning  

 "Devotion isn't what it seems
 (I broker off my broken dreams)...."  "Sanctuary (Spent Sperm Mix)" by
Pig  

 "There is nothing like desire for preventing the thing one says from
bearing any resemblance to what one has in mind."  Marcel Proust   

 As we walked down the hall, Ray jiggled his keys, making them chime in
what seemed to almost be a melody, as he said, "It was weird as all hell
riding in something that didn't have a team of dogs pulling it. I miss the
dogs, Ben. I know they were just loaners from the RCMP, but I got attached
to `em." 

 "They'll be well cared for." 

 "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just not by me. It's not the same. Y'know?"
Diefenbaker nuzzled Ray's hand, making him smile. "Yeah, I know I still
have you." Ray unlocked and opened the door with a small flourish,
grinning. "Home again." 

 As soon as he entered the apartment, Ray set his bags down on the floor
and was in motion again. I hadn't seen him this energetic in some time. He
stopped at his turtle's tank, whispering things under his breath in such a
soft voice that I only made out the occasional use of the turtle's name,
"Spike." He picked up the TV remote and clicked through 67 channels at
high speed. 

 "Ray!" 

 Ray turned the television off. "Sorry. Amazing how there's nothing on,
right? Or maybe not. Same old, same old." 

 Then Ray swooped toward his stereo, sorting through CDs at high speed. I
knew he'd missed many things during our quest, but his music had to be
high on the list. He turned the volume up as his first selection,
something funky with guitar and horns, came on. Strutting music. As Stevie
Wonder sang about superstitions, Ray's smile was so wide it should have
cracked his face in half. I saw a light in his blue eyes that had been
absent for too long. 

 All this, and I hadn't even put my own bags down yet. He made me so dizzy
that I wanted to tell him to settle somewhere, but I also found it hard to
discourage his display of fevered enthusiasm. This was Ray without the
hauntings or depression, my Ray. And he was happy. 

 Happy in a way he apparently hadn't been in weeks. 

 As I set my bags down by the door, the song's lyrics started to disturb
me even though the music itself sounded like something to dance to. "Rid
me of the problem, do all that you can / Keep me in a daydream, keep me
goin' strong / You don't wanna save me, sad is my song / When you believe
in things that you don't understand / Then you suffer..." I shook my head.
I suspected that anything would sound sinister in my current state of
mind, and I was being unfair to Ray. Again. 

 Was I really unhappy because he was happy? Of course he was happy; he was
home. I didn't deserve him if I could be so petty and miserly. Grow up,
Benton. It wasn't as if you weren't accustomed to disappointment, and you
were expecting this one. 

 "I'm starving." Ray picked up the phone. "You hungry? I've been dreaming
of pizza for two months. I'd kill for a bit of pineapple." Dief barked,
making Ray grin. "Well, we got one in agreement. Shoulda known he'd be
back to his old habits once you got him back here." 

 Ray continued to pace the width and breadth of the apartment through his
whole phone call, and somehow I couldn't help remembering the protective
circles he'd drawn around our camps. As if he walked the borders of his
home to reconsecrate it with his own spirit. 

 Ray rubbed his hands together in glee after he put the phone down. "This
way we get dinner, plus cold pizza for snacks later on. The gift that
keeps on giving." 

 "Cold pizza is disgusting, Ray." When he opened his mouth in a retort, I
said, "And I don't want to hear about my milk drinking habits. You always
use that against me. It's old." 

 "Okay. I'll just have to talk about how you lick stuff off the street and
call us even instead." He shook his head. "You never gave cold pizza a
chance. It rocks." 

 Ray became a dervish of action as we waited for the pizza. He
crisscrossed the apartment to take out plates and glasses, unpack his
bags, and change CDs. He kept switching off on these activities, leaving
bags partly unpacked to go to the kitchen to bring out oregano, then
returning to the bedroom and the bags. I hadn't seen him this manic in
some time, and the thought of his inevitable crash worried me. 

 Suddenly I had a Ray straddling my lap, looking into my eyes. "What's
up?" he asked. 

 "Hmmm?" 

 "You look down." 

 "Just thinking." 

 "The look on yer face makes me glad I don't do much of that." 

 "Really, Ray." 

 "I tease you all the time; I can tease myself." At my raised eyebrow, he
sighed and said, "You know what I mean." He was still dancing a bit, this
time to a jaunty tune featuring two singers saying something about
everyone wanting a "love bizarre." The saxophone especially made it quite
catchy. 

 "Of course." 

 "Missing Canada?" 

 "No." My answer was honest... and surprising even to myself. 

 Ray leaned in closer, his hands on my chest. "What, then?" 

 "I still worry about you." 

 "I'm good. Hey, feel my hands." Ray put them at the sides of my face.
"Warm, see? First time in months. I feel good." 

 Unable to resist, I stroked his hair. "You do. Feel good, that is." 

 Ray grinned. "That's my Mountie." His kiss started gentle but soon
ratcheted up in intensity, with his tongue stroking mine. My hand gained a
mind of its own and gripped his long-untrimmed hair to keep his head close
to mine. I liked it longer, the way I could wrap its strands around my
fingers and take hold, a comforting thought considering how Ray had
moments when he was as difficult to hold onto as a hummingbird. Ray moved
away a bit to murmur, "Gotta let me go, Ben. Pizza's here. Guy wouldn't've
gotten here this early if we hadn't started making out, but we did and he
did and so here we are." 

 "I don't hear a--" Then I did hear the door buzzer. Yet more proof of how
thoroughly Ray could distract me. 

 Despite his rhapsodizing over pineapple, Ray had wisely ordered ham and
pineapple on only four slices instead of plunging back into eating rich
food with a whole pie of it. The way he savored his pizza almost
erotically would have seemed silly if I hadn't been so engrossed in the
varied flavors and textures of my own. After two months of trail food, the
tangle of spice and sweetness shocked my mouth. We ate slowly but
lavishly, demolishing most of the pie. 

 I ignored Ray surreptitiously slipping a slice to Dief. If Diefenbaker
became ill later, Ray would have to clean it up himself. 

 Finally Ray asked, "You done?" 

 "I am replete." 

 "I'll take that for a yes." He closed the box, stretched, and said, "I
love pizza, but I hate the aftertaste of the cheese and oils. And the
smell on my hands. Forgot about that." 

 That stretch had briefly bared his belly to me. The glimpse of skin and
his obvious contentment sent my thoughts in a certain direction. I took
his hand and set it under my nose. "It seems fine to me." 

 Ray smirked. "You've `lived among the musk ox,' remember?" 

 "Perhaps I could do something about the taste in your mouth." 

 He had a wicked glint in his eyes. "I'm game." Ray laughed as I rushed
him and pinned him to the couch, kissing him. His legs wrapped around me,
but then one pulled away and kicked down. When I turned to look, I saw a
closed pizza box and Dief looking very disgruntled. "Mooch was trying to
take advantage," Ray explained. 

 "How does one develop the ability to kick pizza boxes closed without
looking?" 

 "Long practice. Now shut up and kiss me." 

 I did so. My hands slid under his two shirts, immediately encountering
warm skin, instant gratification. What joy to be able to do this without
having to unfasten and unwrap various layers away from him first. I didn't
know if my self-control would be able to handle having Ray's skin
constantly within easy reach. 

 Ray's deft fingers already had my jeans undone and slid in to stroke me.
I writhed in his grip. I still couldn't believe that I had him at last,
that he knew how I felt and was mine. How many formerly impossible
fantasies had involved take-out dinner and his couch? I smothered a laugh
at the thought that I was here. 

 "Share, Ben," Ray said as he still lazily stroked me. "I wanna find out
what makes you laugh." 

 "This couch figured in more than a few fantasies." 

 "My couch? Just my couch?" 

 "You were on it, of course." 

 "Good. I don't wanna think I invited a pervert into my home. Tell me what
we did on my couch." 

 "We ate first." 

 "Check." 

 "We mutually discovered that we wanted one another." 

 To my disappointment, Ray let go of me. "Another check. What did I do
then? If it's good, I wanna try it." 

 "It might take less time to recount what you didn't do. I had several
variations." 

 Ray toppled me over onto my back and started to unbutton my shirt. "This
figure in any of `em?" 

 "A few. As a start." 

 "Cool. I wanna be thorough." Starting at my neck, he slowly kissed his
way down to my penis. When he stopped there, breathing hotly on its head,
he asked, "How about this?" 

 "Yes," I gasped. "Definitely." 

 He teased it with his tongue in small maddening licks. 

 "You did other things too," I said. 

 "Yeah, but we can save that for later. Right now, I'm taking advantage of
your offer to help me clear the bad taste in my mouth." Then he swallowed
me whole.  

 When I finished my shower and returned to the living room, I found him
napping on the couch. While he looked rumpled, he'd pulled his clothes
back together. He'd teased me about showering with me but forbore in the
end, saying that we'd never get to actual washing before he passed out
that way, and he wanted to clean the airport air off him. 

 He looked so much like Ray now, lightly clad, clean-shaven. Or at least
as clean-shaven as he could get. He could have simply fallen asleep after
a rough case. The stubble burn on my face, stomach, and most intimate
places reminded me that things had changed, but at times our quest and all
that had followed it--snow, peril, madness, tricksters, and Ray saying
that he loved me--seemed like an insane dream. 

 Ray's eyes snapped open, though he still looked drowsy. "Just napping."
When he stood and moved in close to me, I could smell sex, sweat, and
pizza on him. He made my mouth water. His nose brushed the line of my jaw.
"You smell good," he said. "You always smell good, but this is a different
kind. Warm, shower good." 

 His lips looked dark pink, and I couldn't resist them. We kissed again,
hungrily, then he sighed. "Too tired to treat you right like you deserve.
Gonna shower." His hands moved to the towel around my waist, then stopped
and abruptly pulled away. Ray grinned. "Gonna shower. See ya in a bit." 

 Once I dried myself and put on my nightclothes, I sat on the couch and
tried not to listen to Ray showering, tried not to wonder if he thought of
me now as I'd thought of him as I'd washed up. To my relief, the phone
rang. I picked it up on the second ring. "Ray Kowalski's residence,
Constable Benton Fraser speaking." 

 "Benny! You still answer a phone like nobody else on the planet." 

 "Ray." I was so surprised for a moment that I couldn't get my thoughts
together. I hadn't expected him to call our first night back. Truthfully,
I hadn't expected him to call at all, even though Ray and I had announced
our return to several people. 

 Over all the time Ray Vecchio had been undercover, he'd only contacted me
once, at the very beginning. Given the lack of any other communication,
that one postcard had come to feel more like a slap in the face than
anything else. When he'd returned to Chicago, I'd felt a distance between
us, one that I hadn't been certain could be fixed. Now he called me
sounding exactly like his old self? 

 "Something wrong, Benny? Stanley's not doing something weird to ya, is
he?" 

 "Ray!" I refused to let myself wonder what "weird" things Ray thought my
Ray might be doing to me. "No, he is not, and in any case he prefers not
to be called `Stanley.' His name is Ray. As your name is also Ray, it
shouldn't be so hard for you to remember." 

 Ray snorted. "Whatever. You coming to see me?" 

 In my resurgent surprise, I blurted, "Right now?" 

 "No!" Ray laughed warmly. "Damn, that must be some killer jet lag. Soon,
though, right?" 

 "You want me to come to Florida?" 

 "Florida? I'm right here in Chicago. Unless you know something I don't
know." 

 That would teach me to take anything Detective Dewey said on faith. "You
could blame it on the jet lag." 

 "It's always something. So, you wanna come see me?" 

 My Ray had to see his parents tomorrow, and he'd mentioned a few other
stops he wanted to make. "The day after tomorrow should be fine." 

 "How about six o'clock at the house? PM, Benny, not the morning." 

 "That... that sounds wonderful, Ray." Even in the moments of my deepest
feelings of hurt and abandonment, I'd missed his friendship. I would grab
at any chances he offered me. 

 "Great. See you then." 

 "Should I bring anything?" 

 "Just yourself and maybe the wolf." 

 "I can do that." 

 "`Night, Benny." 

 "Good night, Ray." I set the phone down gently. I couldn't help the
feeling of warmth that suffused me, so I tried to enjoy it while it
lasted. 

 It lasted a few minutes until I looked at the time and realized that my
Ray had been in the shower for quite a while. Normally I wouldn't worry,
but he'd hardly been normal for the last month. I had to check on him. 

 If I transgressed, I could apologize later and live through his
complaints, but if something had truly gone wrong and I hadn't acted in
time.... 

 Clouds of steam obscured my view as I opened the door. I finally saw him
once I reached the sink. "Ray!" 

 Looking tired and dazed, Ray sat on the edge of the tub with the water
still running. He leaned his head against the tile wall as if he couldn't
hold it up on his own, and his eyes looked vague. "`M okay. Just hit me
all at once. Nice warm shower combined with the way that I was so jittery
on the plane I couldn't snooze while you were doing the Sleeping Beauty
routine." As I turned off the water to retrieve him, he mumbled, "I'm
fine. You don't have to coddle me or nothing." 

 If I hadn't been so concerned, I would have enjoyed the sight of his
utter nakedness more. In the Territories, most of the time he'd remained
almost completely covered up even during sex, simply moving the
obstructive items of clothing out of the way when necessary. 

 I applied the towels to his skin and hair and smiled at the way it made
him purr in contentment. Drying more vigorously only seemed to add to his
enjoyment. It reminded me of the times I had to chafe warmth into his cold
fingers. I enjoyed caring for him, making him comfortable. 

 "Up, Ray. You want to sleep in your bed, don't you?" 

 "Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. 

 As I helped him stand and walk to his bedroom, I luxuriated in the feel
of his shower-warm skin radiating heat at me, the brush of his damp hair
against my neck as he leaned on me. Amazing how just the scent of his soap
and shampoo could swamp me in such a wave of nostalgia and drown me under
memories of Ray in the car in the morning as he picked me up at the
consulate. 

 Ray fell asleep as soon as he felt his bed beneath him. Naked, smiling
sweetly, he begged to be touched, but he needed his rest. He looked so
defenseless, but perhaps he simply felt safe here in his own bed, in his
own apartment, in his own city, in his own country. 

 I stripped naked and climbed in beside him to stop the thoughts whirling
through my head and found a bit of success. He sighed and caressed my arm
in his sleep. Unfortunately, it did nothing to stop my guilt. Not when
just being here obviously helped him, while my own home simply hurt and
tormented him. I couldn't tell how long I lay there awake, stroking his
hair, before I finally succumbed to sleep.  

 Nature called and woke me up. I smiled at Ben being in my bed with me and
the fact that we were both naked. Guy was an optimist, and I loved him for
it. 

 My sheets, my bed. Hell, the smell of my own laundry detergent. 

 Home. I was home, and I had Ben here with me. 

 I untangled myself from him, got up, stretched, and wandered into the
bathroom, yawning. Seemed like taking a piss took forever, but that was
okay since I took the time to appreciate that modern marvel known as
indoor plumbing. You really didn't know what you had until you were ass
deep in snow trying to get to a latrine trench or outhouse. 

 As I turned to leave the bathroom, I caught a bit of my reflection and
stopped dead. I didn't know this guy looking at me from the mirror. I
didn't get many mirrors up north and definitely not many this big that let
me see all of me at once. It let this stranger sneak up on me. 

 I was too skinny, and even the muscle I'd gotten from running with the
sled and chopping wood only made me look stringier and gave me popping
veins. After two months under a hat, my hair was so long it had gone
floppy and so dark that it looked more brown than dark blond. If I hadn't
taken the beard off before we even got on the plane, I'd really be in
shock now. But my eyes... my eyes were the worst. I couldn't help thinking
that I didn't feel as haunted and strung out as those eyes said I was. 

 If I saw me walking down the street, I'd think about crossing to the
other side to avoid me. 

 Holy shit, what had happened to me? 

 Ben came up behind me and put his arms around my waist, his head on my
shoulder. "Are you all right, Ray?" he asked softly, his voice husky. He
kissed the side of my neck up to my jaw. 

 And he was hard. Man could be an advertisement for Ever-Ready, not that I
minded. He was depraved on account of being deprived for so long. And him
being hard made me hard. Worked out well. 

 I leaned back into him and closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of
myself. "I'm good. How `bout you?" 

 "I woke up when you left," he said as he nibbled at my ear. I must've
looked okay to him, since he was hardly kicking me to the curb. 

 I just looked like shit to myself. 

 His hands slid down my stomach to my cock, which didn't really care what
I looked like in the mirror as long as it had Ben hands to make it happy.
He was warm and solid at my back, a shield. I felt comfortable and safe
here. 

 "Love you," I said. I could think about the rest tomorrow. Ben's love,
body, and totally welcome lust would keep me distracted for tonight.  

 The door buzzer woke me up. Door buzzers, what a concept. Who the hell
could that be at... damn, 10 a.m. Me and Ben were being lazy here. 

 I tried to get up, but Ben held me tight. Turning around to try to reason
with him made me rub against his morning wood. Wish I had time to do
something with that. Still asleep, he smiled, sighed, and buried his head
deep into my neck. 

 "Ben, I gotta get up and get the door." 

 "Hmmm?" 

 "Door buzzed." 

 "No such thing," he mumbled. 

 "Ben." 

 When it buzzed again, he grumbled but let me go. Who would have guessed
that the only reason he used to get up so early was that he wasn't getting
any? Give him a steady diet of sex, and he'd sleep in till you kicked him
out of bed. It made me smile. 

 As I got up and put on a pair of boxers and a robe, Dief jumped up onto
the place I'd been and settled in. I hoped Ben was awake enough to know
the difference. Looking in the mirror, I ran a fast brush through my hair.
I didn't have time to do anything about the stubble or the way I smelled
like I'd gotten lucky. Or about the haunted look in my eyes. I pulled the
robe shut tighter to try to hide the big bite mark on my collarbone. 

 This time somebody was knocking right at my apartment door. Jesus. I
trudged to the door and opened it. Anybody who was that impatient could
live with the sight of me in all my morning glory. 

 Instead I got a rib-cracking hug from my visitor. "Jeez, Ray, I'm glad
you didn't try to dress for company or anything," Frannie said. 

 I smiled but couldn't help needling her a little. "I guess you've been
saving up since yer real brother's in Florida." 

 "Huh?" 

 "I heard about him and Stella going.... They didn't, did they?" 

 "Who told you that?" 

 "Fraser, but he heard it from-- Looks like I'll be showing up at Dewey's
comedy club after all. Damn. Making me think all that time that Stella
had--" 

 "Well, the part about Ray and Stella being together was true." 

 "Wow, I'm having a great morning here." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray." She gave me one more squeeze, then let go. 

 "Nah, not yer fault Dewey's a jerk and Stella's moved on. Anyway, thanks
for taking care of Spike, but I think you spoiled him. Now he won't take
food from me `cause he's holding out for that attractive chick to come
back for him." 

 I just hoped Mr. Bat Ears in there could hear us gabbing. Now would not
be the time for him to walk out of my bedroom wearing nothing more than
the marks of my lovebites. 

 Frannie punched me in the arm. "Oh, you...." But there was something off.
She was upset about something and trying to hide it. Trying to be nice.
She handed me a small paper bag. "I brought these for you. I figured you
and Fraser would be tired by the time you got in, and I knew you didn't
have anything to eat in the house. They're buttered rolls." 

 "We got leftover pizza, but this is so much better. Thanks." 

 "Fraser's all right?" 

 "Yeah, he's fine. He loved Canada, but we came back to Chicago to see
what's up." 

 "What's up?" Now she started to sound upset. 

 "Uh, yeah." 

 "To see `what's up'?" Frannie got this look in her eyes that usually
meant she was going to go for something, full speed ahead. "I know, Ray." 

 "Know what?" 

 "About you and Fraser. God, I wouldn't have dropped everything to stay in
Canada with him even at my craziest, and you just did it, no looking
back." 

 Not exactly with no looking back.... "It's not what you think it is." 

 "You and Fraser are... are... involved with one another, a couple. Don't
lie to me about it. I'm not blind. Even if I didn't have that whole Canada
thing to go on, the fact that you have the world's largest hickey on your
collarbone would tell me. No woman has a mouth that big." 

 Jeez, it looked like she could definitely hack it at the Police Academy.
"Frannie...." 

 "For the first month after I figured it out I wanted to strangle the both
of you. I mean, there you were being the way you are right under my nose,
and I'm throwing myself at Fraser the whole time...." 

 I couldn't let her think we'd been laughing at her or anything. Time for
honesty; I just hoped Fraser wouldn't mind the cat being out of the bag
with Frannie. He probably wouldn't. "It wasn't like that. I didn't know
myself until a few weeks with him in Canada." 

 "I knew that." But she looked happy that I said it. "Eventually." 

 "It's true. We needed a kick in the head to see it too." 

 "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. But I started dealing with the two of
you being... the way you are two weeks ago, and I think I'm fine with it
now." 

 "I never wanted to hurt you with this." I wasn't ever going to tell her
that Fraser had been interested in her real brother; it might blow the top
of her head off. 

 "Yeah, yeah, that's what I figured. And I'm so over him. I mean, I
figured out that if it wasn't going to happen after so many years, it
wasn't ever gonna happen. You two happy?" 

 "He's like nobody else I've ever known. You know. But I love him,
y'know?" 

 "Yeah, if I'd taken the blinders off, I would have figured it out a long
time ago. I knew he loved you; I just didn't think it would be in that
way...." Then Frannie cleared her head, came back from wherever, and said,
"Ray, I'm not the first person in the squad room to wonder about it and
put two and two together." 

 Fuck. Looked like I had another reason not to go down to the 27th.
"People are talking about my sex life? Fraser's sex life?" 

 "Yeah, and some people are being real jerks about it. I'm sorry, Ray." 

 It was just another reason not to visit the 27th, right? No biggie.
Really. I took a deep breath. "How jerky?" 

 "Nasty. I've been defending your honor, but you can't talk to people like
that. Well, I mean, you can, but it's not like they listen. It's kinda
like talking to yourself." 

 "Thanks, Frannie. Really." It took a weight off me that she was okay with
us. I liked her. 

 She did this little pleased sway from side to side at my thanks. "But
Welsh is looking out for you too. He can't play favorites or anything, but
he's not letting people say things when he's around. Tells `em it's
disrespectful, it's not like we're all in high school, and it's not like
the Chicago PD is paying them to stand around gossiping like teenagers at
a slumber party, but I think it's that he likes you guys too and doesn't
care who you're messing around with." 

 "He's a good guy." One of the best I've ever known. 

 "Yeah, and he's wondering when he's going to get to see the both of you."


 "It may be a while. I have some things I gotta get out of the way first."
And a lot to think about too. I had no idea where the hell I was going to
be next week. Or tomorrow, even. If I went to the 27th, I'd get asked
questions I didn't have answers to. 

 "Just as long as you do it eventually." 

 "Yeah, yeah. Bossy much?" I never had a real sister before I took up the
Vecchio gig, though Ray Walker had almost qualified for a little while. It
wasn't that bad at all. 

 Frannie grinned. "You need somebody to keep you in line." 

 "I often say the same," Fraser said as he walked out of the bedroom.
"Good morning, Francesca." He looked perfect, every hair in place and his
dark blue RCMP sweatsuit totally unwrinkled. He couldn't have showered
already because he'd have to walk out in front of us to get to the
bathroom. 

 I mean, go figure. I looked like I'd been fucked senseless last night,
while he comes out looking like Gym Teacher Ken, volunteering his time at
the Y to help troubled youth. 

 I decided to be Zen about it and accept it as one of those mysteries of
the universe. Besides, I'd rumple him again later. 

 "Hey, Frase," Frannie answered. She looked happy to see him but not
predatory anymore. She used to look at him like he was catch of the day
and she hadn't eaten all week. It really seemed like she was over him.
Good for you, Frannie. She also had this kind of smirk on her face, like
she was saying that his neat, groomed look didn't fool her for a second.
"I came over with rolls for breakfast for you." 

 "Thank you kindly." 

 "But I have to go now. Work. You remember work, right, Ray?" 

 "Never heard of it," I said. 

 "See you soon?" 

 I gave her a friendly goodbye hug. "Sure." I ruffled the back of her hair
just so she'd make a huffy protest. 

 When she pulled away, she looked at Fraser, realized he'd probably bolt
if she tried to hug him too since he didn't see the new her, and shook his
hand instead. "Good to see you again, Frase." 

 Ben actually looked confused by her. I had to hide my smile. 

 "Ah, yes. You as well. Good day, Francesca." 

 She waved as she closed the door behind her, leaving one really amazed
Mountie in her wake. I wondered if he'd miss his number one fan now that
she'd been replaced by someone who didn't need to maul him anymore. I
mean, he'd always gotten that deer in the headlights look when she came at
him, but maybe he'd miss the attention. 

 "Things change," I said as he turned to look at me. 

 "Indeed." His expression cleared, then turned smoldering as he got a
closer look at me. "It looks like I despoiled you last night." 

 Reflex said to close the robe to hide the bite mark on my collarbone, but
it made more real sense to leave it be as I leaned against the wall in
what I figured would be an inviting sprawl. My dick approved and woke up
even more. "I'm always up for despoiling in a good cause." 

 "Really." It came out as a deep purr against my neck, which was where Ben
had ended up while I was talking. "Care to prove it?" His fingers slid
under the waistband of my boxers. 

 "How do I know this is a good cause?" I felt a real pride that I managed
to say a whole sentence while his hand played with me. 

 "I would never involve you in anything else." 

 "Oh sure. Meanwhile, we still have to clean up, get dressed, go see my
parents-- Oh. Ohhhhh. Oh yeah, and do what yer doing right now, do a lot
of that." I bucked as he started to do more things with his hand. Hot,
naughty things to my dick and balls mostly. 

 His fingers slowed. "Are you sure?" 

 I pushed into his grip. "Yeah." 

 "You always tell me I shouldn't be so slavish to orders." Dark, honeyed,
clueless Mountie voice. 

 "If you pick now to try that out, you'll go to that special hell they
reserve for Mounties gone bad. And you'll be sleeping on the couch too." 

 "At the same time? I wouldn't want that. I also wouldn't want to make us
late for our visit to your parents and force you to lie about why. Perhaps
I can find a compromise." 

 Ben dropped to his knees, pulled my boxers off with one snatch, and
sucked me down. Him kneeling at my feet, looking utterly neat and
unrumpled, with my cock sliding between his perfect lips as he worked me
fast and dirty.... Too much. I managed to moan, "More people should
disobey me like this," before I came. Maybe some day I'd ask him where
he'd learn to give head like that and how many poor guys he'd left in
Canada with the tops of their skulls blown off from it. 

 He let me slide down the wall until we were level with one another, and I
tasted myself as we kissed. Then I had him on the floor beneath me and
stroked his dick until he was a writhing, mindless puddle of Mountie. I
also made him come in his sweatpants. Once his brain started working
again, he raised an eyebrow as he noticed what a mess I'd made of him,
probably thinking it wasn't really fair since he'd sucked me off neat and
clean as could be. 

 I grinned. "Had to be done. Now we take a shower--separately-- and I
start thinking what I could wear that'll disguise the way you made a meal
of me last night." Not that bad a start to my day.  

 As Ray had said last night, it felt odd to be traveling in something that
didn't have dogs pulling it. I missed them as well, though not nearly as
much as Ray, who had seemed to bond with them, appeared to. Our ride to
see his parents was canine-free, since we'd left Dief at the apartment to
make sure the taxi driver would take us. I fully expected a sulking fit to
greet us when we came back with Ray's GTO. 

 Sitting next to me, Ray looked smaller and sleeker than my mind usually
remembered him, but that was from the lighter clothing he wore in Chicago.
It had only taken two months for my mental image of him to automatically
include thick layers of protective clothing, making him a larger creature.
Seeing him naked once in a while hadn't changed that image at all. Now the
sight of him kept surprising me, though not in an unpleasant way. 

 It seemed nearly obscene to see him wearing so little in public. I liked
it. 

 The lack of bulk had returned his movements to the faster, more graceful
ones he used to use. He also gestured more often again now. 

 Smiling, Ray stared out the window at the city. He nearly glowed in his
happiness to be home. I'd hoped that the Yukon would engender similar
feelings in him.... His hand rested over mine on the seat, his fingers
idly stroking my skin to remind me that he was still with me or perhaps
himself that I was still with him. 

 I'd panicked last night when I woke to find myself alone in the bed. He
couldn't have been gone for more than a minute and a half before his
absence woke me. Then I'd barged in on him while he was in the bathroom.
It didn't matter that the door had been partially open; had it been closed
I no doubt would have done the same, heedless of any wish for privacy he
might have. I followed that by pawing him, needing to feel him. 

 In the Yukon, my worries would have been understandable. Ray could wander
into a snow-camouflaged crevasse or a hungry animal's path away from the
camp or me. Did I expect him to fall prey to an animal attack or into a
crevasse on the way to the bathroom? 

 If he had a hallucination instead, there was nothing I'd be able to do
for him. The thought chilled me. Just because he hadn't experienced any in
the last three weeks didn't mean they wouldn't return. He'd continued to
draw circular protective wards around our sleeping areas up to the last
day we spent in Canada. 

 The things he seemed to see only increased my fears of losing him,
mentally if not physically. 

 And my concern at him going off alone in his apartment wasn't completely
unjustified. He'd looked lost and upset as he stared in the mirror, and
he'd thrown himself into sex with even more abandon than usual, as if
fleeing something. Today I bore the signs of his passion in bruises and
bite marks, as his body bore the marks of my eager reciprocation. He'd
been wild, feral, demanding, as he drove me to madness. As remembering it
this morning had aroused me again.... 

 I would embarrass myself if I faced his parents while in such a state,
erect and reeking of lust for their son, especially since my civilian
attire lacked my uniform's long tunic that could disguise so many sins. I
fought down the memories of Ray riding me, the snug clench of his muscles
around my cock, his sweat-slick skin burning beneath my fingers, the sweet
sounds of his helpless pleasure-- 

 I really had to stop this. I didn't understand how I could still be so
vulnerable after spectacular sex last night and another session only an
hour ago. Surely it should have "taken the edge off," as Ray would say. 

 But no matter how much and how often I had Ray, I never seemed to lose my
razor-keen desire for him. Like with an addiction, every taste only left
me needing more. 

 Enough. I had a brain and a sense of propriety. It was past time for me
to use them. Ray had distracted me from his troubles. I would simply have
to ask him again. 

 Ray's smile fled as we reached his parents' trailer, but he quickly
pasted it back on. I said, "Your parents will be happy to see you, Ray." 

 "Yeah. I'm just glad we're not telling `em everything, not yet." Then his
hand squeezed mine. "I'm sorry, Ben. We could, if it bothers you. Mum'll
be good about it; it's just Dad I'm worried about." 

 "It doesn't bother me." I understood his caution and saw no reason to
give him more to fret about. He expected them to be upset enough already
about him having suddenly run off to Canada with me two months ago and
staying there. In any case, I saw no need to announce ourselves to
everyone we knew. Our business was our own. We could deal with it as it
arose. 

 "That's great." As Ray paid the driver, he said, "I'm so glad to be back
to American bills. The Canadian stuff looks like Monopoly money, and
barter feels un-American." 

 Another subject change, and Ray no doubt felt that his playful jab at my
country would derail my train of thought. I'd let him get away with it for
now if it cheered him up. "American dollars are so unpleasing to the eye."


 "They're supposed to be useful, not pretty. Them being ugly makes it
easier to figure that out." 

 "There's no reason an item can't be pleasing to the eye as well as
useful." 

 "Government probably hopes that if they make `em ugly enough, people will
be dying to spend `em to get rid of `em." Ray knocked at the trailer's
door. His smile faltered only a little as he saw his father and said,
"Hey, Dad." I wondered if his casual air and tone fooled his father at
all. 

 Damian Kowalski smiled, but his manner still seemed somewhat distant. His
eyes, however, drank Ray in, scrutinizing him. The varying signals he put
out confused me, leaving me uncertain as to his feelings about Ray's
homecoming. "Raymond. Glad yer home again." 

 As we walked inside, Ray seemed to loosen up a little. "Good to be home
again. Where's Mu--" 

 "Stanley!" 

 "Mum!" Ray said in greeting before his mother all but smothered him with
a hug. "I missed you too," he gasped, his voice low and thick. 

 She clasped him tightly for a while before pushing him away a little to
get an appraising look. "Did you eat at all while you were away? Come with
me." 

 "Mum...." 

 "If you won't take care of yourself, I'll have to do it for you," she
said as she started to pull him away with her. Ray gave me an apologetic
look as his mother dragged him into the kitchen, but he looked pleased
nonetheless. I envied him his relationship with her. 

 "Can I speak to you... Constable?" Ray's father asked. 

 I pulled my eyes off Ray's retreating back. "Yes, sir." 

 "I wanted to talk to you about Raymond." 

 This didn't bode well. I played obtuse. "Yes, sir?" 

 "My Raymond's a good boy." 

 "He's a good man," I couldn't help saying before I really thought. My
time in the Territories with only Ray seemed to have broken down my sense
of tact and subtlety. Stupid of me to bait Ray's father, no matter how
much I disliked him. Even aside from Damian Kowalski's decision to punish
Ray for becoming a police officer by withholding his love and presence for
so many years, something about the man set my teeth on edge... but that
gave me no excuse. Everything would be far easier if he didn't hate me. 

 He only nodded. "Yes, he's grown to be a good man. It's my own fault that
I didn't stay to see that as it happened. But I think I still know him
well enough.... He's loyal, loyal to the point of idiocy sometimes. He'll
give ya as much as he can, then try to give more." 

 "He's a good partner." I waited for the point. I feared that I already
knew what it was. 

 "I understand him going to Canada with you, since you had a criminal to
catch. Of course, if he hadn't been with you, Canada never would've come
into it, but all right. But then he gives a brief call to say he's staying
and doesn't know for how long. Then he comes back two months later all
skin and bones and with this look in his eyes...." 

 When he offered nothing further, I asked, "A look?" As much as I didn't
like the direction he seemed to pointing toward, at least by now I could
be confident that he hadn't figured out our secret before Ray was ready to
tell him. 

 "Like he's seen too much. Seen something he shouldn't've seen." His own
eyes seemed to burn into me. "I've seen him with you. He'll do anything
you ask. I'm asking you not to ask." 

 What look? I hadn't seen any look, and I'd spent the past two months
studying Ray even more than usual. How could Mr. Kowalski look at him for
half a minute and come to the conclusion that I'd harmed him? "Sir?" 

 "Yer taking advantage of him and his loyalty. If yer a real friend,
you'll stop." 

 His effrontery actually set me back for a moment. "I am his friend." 

 "Then you'll stop." 

 Outrage followed. How dare he? This man Ray idolized had thrown his son
away, cutting off contact, ruthlessly punishing him for years for doing
nothing other than making a decision about his future that went against
his father's wishes. The break had been so total and devastating that Ray
had assumed the people at the 27th were playing a prank on them when they
told him his parents were on their way to see him and wanted to talk to
him. 

 Damian Kowalski had thrown away any right to speak about what would be
best for his son years ago. He couldn't even know what that would be. He
was no kind of father to abandon his son so. Yet he found the gall to
chastise me in the name of Ray's "good." 

 Since Ray had taken on the role of Ray Vecchio nearly two years ago, I
had become the closest thing he had to family in the absence of any true,
close blood kin. Francesca became his sister for the sake of his role, but
he chose me. 

 I was Ray's family. As such, I had to rein in every dark impulse that
coursed through my mind at this moment. I wanted to tell Mr. Kowalski that
I intended to take Ray back with me to Canada where he'd never see his son
again. I wanted to tell him that we were lovers and describe how sweetly
and eagerly Ray welcomed it as I thrust into him.... 

 But I shouldn't. Must not. No matter how much dark pleasure it would give
me to so upset Damian Kowalski, I would be hurting Ray as well, and I
would never do that. Ray, of all people, had reminded me that confessions
had proper times and places and ways. 

 I also understood that Ray's father wanted me to start a fight. He would
stand there and say horrible things to me in a calm, quiet voice until he
won by provoking me into a fit of screaming nastiness. Ray, just in the
next room, would inevitably hear the yelling and be affected by it. 

 Who would have thought I'd miss arguing with my own father so much? 

 Tension and violence just about vibrated in the air between us. We both
wanted a fight; I knew that I couldn't afford one. 

 Still, I couldn't help the sharp tone in my voice as I said, "Mr.
Kowalski--" 

 The door slamming open interrupted us. "Hey, Fraser, look at this haul,"
Ray said. He swung numerous shopping bags up for my inspection, then set
them down on the dining room table. "Mum decided to give me half her
kitchen since she thinks I can't cook." 

 "I know you can cook; I taught you myself after all. I just know you well
enough to realize that you didn't go grocery shopping when you came in
yesterday," Mrs. Kowalski said lightly as she interposed herself between
her husband and me. 

 I wondered only briefly at their timing. 

 "You want me to be a blimp," Ray said. 

 "You're too thin." 

 "You always say that." 

 "You're always too thin. You missed Easter with us, so I missed a prime
opportunity to fatten you up." 

 He currently was too thin. I'd have to see if I could amend that myself. 

 I tried to rein in my guilt at making him miss what sounded like a
traditional family dinner but didn't succeed. He hadn't seen them in
years, yet he'd missed a major holiday gathering with them to stay in
Canada with me. I couldn't help wondering if her statement had been a
calculated shot at me. If so, it wasn't completely undeserved. 

 The way Ray's eyes dropped made me feel worse. "I'm sorry. I wanted to
spend Easter with you, and it's been so long--" 

 She looked upset at his reaction and kissed him. "It's fine, and you had
something very important to do. It's certainly not your fault, Stanley,"
she said as she glanced at her husband. Damian Kowalski had the grace to
look shamefaced for a moment before regaining what seemed to be his usual
expression of irritability. She brightened again, and it seemed to have a
reciprocal effect on Ray. "But you have to forgive your mother for wanting
to make up for lost time and get some meat on your bones." 

 "Soylent Green is people, Mum." 

 "Oh, Stanley, when I say I could just `eat you up,' I never mean it
literally." 

 "Sure, that's what ya want me to think. I'm not fooled." 

 Mr. Kowalski seemed as stunned by their energy and brightness as I was.
Their strategy, no doubt. 

 Mrs. Kowalski gave Ray a big hug as she asked, "Oh, can't you stay
longer?" 

 "Afraid not. Have a lot of people I have to check in with. The GTO's good
to go?" 

 Neatly executed. 

 Ray's father blinked. "Of course." 

 "Really appreciated you taking care of it while I was away. Thanks, Dad."


 "Sure." 

 Ray's mother stepped back into the kitchen and came out with a keyring
that she lovingly folded into Ray's hand. "Be good." 

 "Mum, I'm always good!" Ray protested but swept her into a tight embrace
again. "I missed you," I heard him whisper. She smiled as he let her go. 

 Then, to my surprise, she hugged me. "Don't let our son be a stranger,
Constable Fraser." 

 Right to the heart. "I'll do my best." 

 "Thank you." 

 Ray shook hands with his father and said his farewells. When he was done,
I held out my own hand to Damian Kowalski in challenge. His eyes narrowed,
but he shook my hand, squeezing painfully. When I squeezed back, his face
went white. "Thank you, sir," I said blandly. "Have a good day." He said
nothing as we left. 

 Ray put the food in the trunk then sat down in the driver's seat with a
happy sigh, stroking the steering wheel. But as soon as I settled into the
passenger seat, he asked, "What did my dad say to you?" 

 "Ray?" 

 "Don't play that with me. I can tell something's bothering you, and you
were fine until I left the room, so Dad must have been a jerk. I was
expecting it even as I was hoping he'd behave. When Mum and me came out
like we did just in case, I felt it in the room." 

 I still found Ray's sensitivities and ability to see through my mask
disconcerting. "He was worried about you." 

 "Yeah?" Ray actually grinned. "Really?" He sounded so surprised, so
pleased. 

 So little could mean so much to him. The surprise in his voice made me
hate his father even more. "Really." 

 "Okay, now get that look off your face. He can be a jerk sometimes, but I
know Dad loves me; it's just something I haven't gotten used to again yet.
Damn, I didn't mean it that way. I meant--" 

 "I know what you meant," I said. I knew better than he did himself. 

 "Great. Saves a lot of time." Ray smiled a little. "I told Mum about us."


 I felt abruptly warmer. "What did she say?" 

 "That if you didn't treat me right, she'd hound you to yer grave." 

 "I doubt she said that." 

 "She said she's happy for us and expects us to come to dinner sometime.
You got any problems with that?" 

 "Not at all." 

 "That's good, `cause Mum takes dinner very seriously. Now we go drop off
Mum's welcome-back food, pick up the furry guy, and get the day going."  

 Springtime in Chicago. I smirked at the pigeons on the make. The guys
were puffed up to look twice as big as they were and did spinning,
look-at-me dances on the sidewalk near any chick they could find, but the
ladies weren't interested. Knew that bit from personal experience. Didn't
stop the guys from sidling up to the next lady they saw. I knew that bit
too. 

 A big black bird--not as big as One for Sorrow, thank God, so it was a
normal raven or crow--sat on a nearby newspaper box. The crow gripped a
big white thing in its beak that I took for a piece of Styrofoam but then
dropped it onto the top of the box and pecked at it, making a delicate
cracking sound every time. An egg. A pigeon egg, I guessed. 

 The crow dipped its beak into the dark hole and ripped out bloody,
stringy gobbets of what would have become a baby bird, wolfing them down.
Bright red stained the pure white shell. My own breakfast started to churn
in my stomach at the sight and casual violence of it. 

 If I hadn't already known it before, being in the Territories would have
shown me that Nature wasn't some pretty lady in a flowing robe with
flowers in her hair and cute forest animals following her; she was a
ruthless bitch who just didn't care. If you were small and defenseless,
that was your problem, though it wouldn't be a problem for long because
you'd pretty quickly become something's lunch. But this... I felt like I
should be doing something, but it was already too late. It had happened
too fast. 

 The crow left the egg to fly straight at some pigeons near the curb,
scattering them as it landed. Then it took off again, flying low over the
sidewalk, scattering people the same way. Ben moved out of its way too,
which made it a real bird, really there, but I just stood and watched as
the gleaming black feathers nearly brushed my nose as it rushed by. 

 It didn't return for the egg. The crow didn't even finish off the egg,
just killed it, had a light snack, and left the rest to rot. Killed it and
didn't even finish it. 

 No matter what kind of weird vision things I saw in the Territories, this
didn't mean anything; this wasn't some kind of omen or anything. I mean, I
once saw a crow disemboweling a rat on top of a gravestone years ago, and
that didn't lead to anything. 

 That I knew of. 

 "Ray?" Ben sounded worried and had that look that said, Ray, my friend,
you wouldn't happen to be going crazy again, would you? I must have been
standing there staring for too long. 

 As a truck drove by, the egg rolled off the box and smashed to the
pavement with a sharp cracking sound. Now only a sad pile of red-smeared
white shell bits surrounding a red-black gooey mess remained of what would
have become a baby bird if left to itself. 

 I swallowed. It meant nothing. It meant nothing. "Nah, I'm fine, Fraser.
Let's go in." I walked up the steps into the 23rd and back into the past. 

 Gee, I wonder if the rumors about me being gay have gotten here yet? 
"Anyone who says he can see through a woman is missing a lot."	Mae West  


 I hadn't seen enough American police district buildings to say for
certain that they all looked alike, but the 27th and 23rd could have been
twins. The color American officers called "institutional green" reigned
here as there. The squad rooms shared a similar rowdy bustle of officers,
innocents, and suspects. 

 Ray walked unerringly through the maze and mob but didn't get far,
immediately being stopped by a young plainclothes officer. "May I help
you, sir?" the young man asked in a barely patient tone. "And you'll have
to remove the dog from the premises." 

 Ray quickly erased the irritation from his face, then said, "He's a guide
dog, and he stays. Me, I'm Detective Ray V-- Kowalski. Detective S.
Raymond Kowalski. I worked here for a while, but I've been undercover for
a long time. I see some of the people I'm looking for, but where's
Detective Rachel Walker?" 

 "I don't know anyone by that name." 

 Only the restless movement of Ray's fingers told me how nervous that
statement had made him. "Sure, you do. She's about my height but with
black hair. All legs. Fidgets a lot." 

 "I'm afraid not." The young man looked suspicious now, while Ray seemed
to be losing patience. 

 "Look, you--" 

 A large man came by and clapped Ray on the back. "Ray!" 

 Ray grinned at the newcomer. "Hey, Cameron. How's it hanging?" 

 "Not bad, not bad. Leave him alone, Scoppa. He belongs here." 

 "If you say so," the young man said, doubt evident in his tone. 

 "Now scoot." 

 The young man gave Ray a hostile look before leaving. Ray just shook his
head and asked, "Raphael, what's his damage?" 

 "Been here for seven months, and we still haven't rubbed all the green
off him yet." 

 "Where's Bernstein?" 

 "Transferred to Arson." 

 Ray's eyes widened in disbelief. "Transferred?" 

 "Hey, you may be pretty, but he couldn't wait for you forever. That's one
long assignment you had. Besides, they made him an offer he couldn't
refuse." 

 As I watched Ray stifle what appeared to be sadness and disappointment, I
struggled myself with the thought of Ray having a partner before he'd met
me. Of course, he had to have had one, my logical side reminded me, but my
logical side had little to do with my relations with Ray. The way he'd
spoken on rare occasions--since he rarely spoke of his professional work
as Detective Kowalski during his time as Ray Vecchio--of his temporary
pairings with Rachel Walker had allowed me to delude myself into thinking
of him as someone who simply partnered momentarily with whomever was best
for the job at hand. Never mind that I'd never seen such an arrangement in
all my time around Canadian and American law enforcement agencies. 

 "Arson," Ray said. "Guess I'll just have to pay him a visit there then." 

 "Except that I hear he's out of town on some kind of convention for a
week. The lieutenant might know." 

 "Yeah, gotcha. What about Gernand?" 

 "Transferred to Fugitives." 

 "Gambini?" 

 "Day off." 

 "Santiago." 

 "Back soon." 

 "Ramirez." 

 Detective Cameron looked down. "Shot down in a corner store a month ago.
He wasn't even on duty." 

 "Shit. How's Connie?" 

 "She's... doing about as well as you can expect." 

 "Damn. I was out of the country. Didn't know. I'll have to pay my
respects to her." Ray swallowed. "Where's Ray? Kid didn't know her." 

 "Walker, Texas Ranger?" 

 "Surprised she hasn't killed you for that yet." 

 "She's a softy." 

 "Our Ray Walker? You gotta be kidding me." 

 "`Course I am. Don't think Irish is gonna be one of those people that
time mellows out. She just finished a long-term assignment last week, so
the kid never met her. She's on leave right now. Let me tell the
lieutenant you're here." 

 "Sure. Announce me, Raphael." 

 Detective Cameron made a rude gesture before leaving us. I asked Ray in a
whisper, "S. Raymond Kowalski?" 

 "I didn't feel like going into the whole `yeah I know, Dad and Marlon
Brando, I prefer Ray' thing for the little bastard. He probably would have
asked, and he wasn't worth the time. I'm listed as `S. Raymond Kowalski'
on a lot of my paperwork anyway. `Sides, I'd already started to introduce
myself as a Ray, just the wrong one," Ray whispered back. 

 I'd noticed that as I'd gone through his records not long after meeting
him, trying to determine the mettle of the man who'd replaced Ray Vecchio.
I'd seen him listed alternately as "Stanley R. Kowalski" and "S. Raymond
Kowalski." The variations had made it even more important to me that he
tell me his name and preferences himself. 

 Someone called from across the room, "Kowalski, to what do I owe the
displeasure?" 

 Ray grinned. "Hey, Gee." 

 "I'll be so glad when that show's off the air." 

 "It's a good show, and it's not my fault you look like him. Besides,
it'll probably play on cable forever anyway." 

 Sporting an extravagantly long-suffering look that seemed to be standard
issue for Chicago lieutenants, or at least the ones who knew my Rays, the
man sighed. "In my office, Kowalski." 

 "Sound like him too. Can Fraser come too? He's the guy who--" 

 "Both of you, then." 

 "I have him wrapped around my finger," Ray whispered to me. 

 "I heard that." 

 As we walked across the room, Ray whispered to me, "I call him `Gee'
because of a cop show called *Homicide: Life on the Street*. Great show.
Dark show, but great. Lieutenant McNamera is a dead ringer for Lieutenant
Giardello." 

 "Thank you, Ray." I appreciated it that he knew I'd ask, but it bothered
me that I knew so little about things apparently elementary to Ray's life.


 He just shrugged, then closed the door behind us. "Ben, this is
Lieutenant Thomas McNamera." 

 The lieutenant sat behind his desk and gave me a look that once again
reminded me of Lieutenant Welsh. "So, this is the Mountie," he said. 

 "Yes, sir," I answered, "though I can't see how you'd know that while I'm
out of uniform." 

 "You still look like a Mountie." 

 "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police." 

 Ray said, "And the dog's a half-wolf named Diefenbaker, and before you
ask, Dief's a service dog, so he's okay in the building. Kinda. I mean,
he's kind of a service dog, not that he won't be okay in the building. Is
Bernstein out of town?" 

 Lieutenant McNamera sighed. "I see you've been working on that problem
you had with being impatient. I'm just glad no one ever got the bright
idea of mainlining whatever kind of natural speed's running through your
veins." 

 "Just being direct." 

 "Right. He's out of state at a law enforcement convention and isn't due
back for another five days, according to the grapevine." 

 "`Cause you never keep up with the folks who leave your direct command." 

 "No reason to." Apparently Lieutenant McNamera's gruffness covered the
same large heart that Lieutenant Welsh's did. 

 "Since the direct route is working so far, now I'm gonna ask where Walker
is." 

 "Why didn't I kill you years ago?" 

 "I suspect you just didn't have any good places handy to dump a body in,
sir." 

 "You bend real nice, so I'd only need a little hole. Nah, it's not that.
I'm probably afraid your ghost would haunt me, and that would have to be
even worse. You, nattering in my ear until I die of the torture." 

 Ray shivered and made a quick--circular?--gesture with his hand, but his
tone remained as borderline smart-ass as it had been moments ago. "Don't
know much about ghosts." 

 Lieutenant McNamera sighed. "It would be justifiable homicide." 

 "A jury of yer peers would have to decide that, sir." 

 "Not that it's really any of your business, Kowalski, but Detective
Walker just finished a long undercover assignment last week and is
currently on leave. You could call her for more information on her current
circumstances, but you know she's not going to be able to talk about where
she's been and what she's been doing for the last eight months." 

 "Gotcha." 

 "In fact... I would appreciate it if you'd check in on her." 

 "Bad one?" 

 "It's not my place to say, Detective." 

 "Gotcha. Any of the other guys go see her?" 

 "A few. It's not the same." 

 Ray seemed to be taking something from this conversation that bypassed me
entirely. "Sure, Gee." 

 "Kowalski...." 

 "You love me, and you know it. I'll go now to check up on Walker, just
like you asked me to." 

 "Whenever you get obedient, I start checking my pockets." 

 Ray smiled. He seemed to smile at everyone here. "I'm hurt, really hurt."


 "Not as much as you could be, Kowalski. It was good to meet you,
Constable." 

 "The same, sir," I said as I shook his hand. 

 Looking supremely confident and comfortable, Ray waved at a few people as
we left the station, while Dief and I trailed in his wake. Uncertain of
the proper way to behave here, I simply followed in silence, still
off-balance. As Ray had been forced to depend on me in the Yukon in
unfamiliar territory, so now I was forced to rely on him. I didn't like it
much, and it gave me a greater respect for how little Ray had complained
to me during that time. 

 As Ray unlocked the driver's side door of his GTO a man walking by said,
"Nice car, Kowalski." 

 Ray beamed. "Santiago. Been an age." 

 Santiago ruffled Ray's hair over Ray's protests, making me wonder if
everyone who knew him apparently felt and indulged the need to touch him,
then frowned. "It's not the same when your hair's so long." 

 Ray stuck out his tongue. "Do that again, and I'll kick you in the head."


 "Yeah, yeah." 

 "Hey, Fraser, this is Frank Santiago, who's been with the 23rd forever.
Real old fogey." 

 "Hey! I'm not that old." 

 "Fifty-something's old. Fraser, Santiago's the first guy who made me feel
at home here when I made detective, kind of like a dad to me." 

 "If you were my kid, I'd take you over my knee." 

 "Keep yer fantasy life out of this. Santiago, this is Constable Benton
Fraser." 

 Santiago had a firm handshake. "Never thought I'd meet the Mountie." He
smiled at me. "Don't look at me like that. The news uses you almost every
time they have a slow day." 

 "I... see," I answered. Did Ray bring this out in everyone he knew from
his old squad room? 

 "Hey, kid, you coming back here?" Detective Santiago asked. 

 Ray's face briefly clouded, and that worried me. "Dunno yet. I'm kinda
unsettled," Ray said. 

 "You've always been unsettled." At Ray's long-suffering look, Santiago
laughed and said, "We'd be glad to have you back, you know that, right?" 

 "Of course." 

 "Brat. Wish I could stand around and catch up with you, but some of us
have work to do." 

 "Yeah, yeah. If you were smarter, you wouldn't have to work so hard." 

 Santiago smiled and flipped Ray off before he went into the station.
Ray's old district seemed far more casual than the 27th. For some reason,
it nagged at me. Everything about his previous life nagged at me. 

 But Ray already had the GTO's door open. "You coming, Ben?" 

 "Of course." As I sat down in the passenger seat, I said, "I have a
question for you, Ray." I had many actually, most of which I probably
shouldn't ask. 

 "Sure, shoot." 

 "I'm not sure how I should ask this." 

 Ray smirked. "It's one of those questions? Just get it out." 

 "I'm simply hoping you won't take it the wrong way." 

 "Now I'm really curious. Go for it." 

 I wasn't sure which of my many questions would come out when I opened my
mouth. I waited for it the same as Ray did. "I know you're experienced in
undercover work, yet you--" 

 "--played Vecchio as me with another name?" Ray sounded more amused than
offended. 

 Of all the ones I could have asked, why that one? Maybe because it had
been bothering me for some time. "No. Well, yes. I mean, that would be
another question but not the one I'm asking. I'm asking.... Well, your
emotions usually show on your face, which is actually one of the things I
love you for--" 

 Ray grinned. "Sweet." 

 "But it leaves me to wonder if that might hinder you while you're
undercover." 

 "It's connected to the other question. I started out the job getting a
feel for Vecchio, but it didn't take long before I realized that none of
you wanted that from me, and I could get away with mostly being me. Which,
lemme tell you, is a relief when yer playing somebody long term. What I
usually do is become the person I'm playing. I'm not me pretending to be
Joe Thug, I am Joe Thug, at least when I'm in front of other people. That
way, whatever shows up on my face is the right thing. It works in my
favor." 

 My heart went cold at the thought. "It sounds dangerous to you." 

 "It can be, especially over the long term. A year of being Vecchio-as-me
left me mind-fucked enough on my identity; if I'd been Vecchio-as-Vecchio
that long, I might be in the loony bin now." 

 Amazing how he could sound so nonchalant over words that left me so
horrified. Horrified that his character could be so mutable, his very
identity so at risk. Then I thought further about his comment that he'd
changed his act as Ray Vecchio based on cues from me and the other people
at the 27th and felt even worse. How far did he follow such cues? How much
of the Ray I knew came from him responding to what he thought I wanted
from him? 

 I calmed myself with an effort. Making assumptions often resulted in
dangerous and self-damaging behavior. 

 In any case, I had no more time for my anxieties as we had arrived at our
destination, no doubt the residence of the infamous Rachel Walker. Ray
looked like he didn't know whether he felt nervousness or anticipation as
he got out of the car. This was the friend he had cast away completely on
Stella's say-so, and Walker hadn't been very happy about it at the time.
Understandably so. He hadn't spoken to her in a friendly manner in years
and no doubt felt anxious about the reception she'd have for him now. 

 I wanted to meet her myself. What little I'd heard of her from him
suggested that I could learn a great deal about my Ray from observing her.


 Ray pressed the call box's button and leaned in close to listen. Not that
he needed to, since the box squawked loudly before a breathless, husky
voice, crackling with static, backed by pounding music, said, "Hello?" 

 "Hey, baby," Ray purred, grinning, using bravado to get him through. It
often worked. 

 "What? You-- Son of a--" The voice calmed. "I'm not playing Beavis for
you, Butthead." 

 "Yer breathing kinda hard. You involved in something," Ray paused for a
long, significant moment, "personal up there?" 

 "I'm flipping you off. You just can't see it." Despite her words, she
sounded amicable. 

 "Sure, I can." 

 "Actually, I am involved. Get your skinny ass up here and join us." 

 "Uhm, I brought company. I'd have to clear it with him first." 

 "You let me--" She sighed. "Sorry, whoever you are. I'm sorry you have to
know Ray." 

 "Hey!" 

 "I'm exercising, nimrod." 

 "I'm sorry, ma'am. We could come back another time," I said into the box.


 "No, it's fine. Lemme buzz you up." 

 After a sharp buzzer sound, Ray opened the door and motioned me to follow
him down the hall. I asked, "That was a friendly conversation?" The
elevator door closed behind us. 

 "Sure, it was. Ray'd think something was wrong if I didn't tease. Hell,
she gives as good as she gets, so it works out. It's a... it's a kind of
brother/sister thing." 

 "So if you two try to kill one another, I shouldn't worry, then." 

 "Pretty much." 

 "We should have called first." 

 "Nah." 

 "We're interrupting her exercise program. Hmm. Are you sure you two are
so much alike?" 

 Ray smacked my arm as he left the elevator. "Comedian." He walked down
the hall without looking back, confident that I'd follow. I didn't know
whether I should have been pleased by his trust or annoyed at his
presumption. 

 The woman who opened the door didn't fit my expectations at all. My
expectation had been a literal physical copy of Ray: short-haired, blonde.
Ray had mentioned black hair while we'd been at the 23rd today, but I'd
had months prior to that to form a mental picture of her. To my chagrin,
for some reason I'd thought she would be more masculine. She also looked
younger than I'd expected. No doubt her being sweaty and flushed from
exercise skewed the first impression somewhat, but the black-haired,
fine-featured woman with dark green eyes standing in front of us surprised
me. 

 However, she was as tall and rangy as my Ray, and her presence seemed to
hum with a similar energy. They dressed in a similarly casual style. 

 "Ray!" they both seemed to say at once. 

 They grabbed one another, then Ray picked her up and swung her around the
living room. Once he put her down, she slapped the back of his head. 

 "Hey!" my Ray protested. 

 "You could have called. This morning. Or hell, any time over the past
three years." She quickly reached under his jacket and pulled out his cell
phone. "See, you can use something like this to contact people. You just
press a few buttons...." 

 Ray grabbed his phone back. "If the cop thing doesn't work out, you could
always become a pickpocket." 

 "It's my golden parachute. Where's your manners?" 

 "Huh?" 

 "Okay, that was a dumb question. Let me try another. Who's your friend?" 

 Ray introduced me yet again, his tone faster than normal. The repetitions
were no doubt wearing on him. "This is Constable Benton Fraser, Royal
Canadian Mounted Police. He first came to Chicago on the trail of his
father's killers, and it just got weirder from there." 

 "Pleased to meet you," she said, shaking my hand. She had a firm grip,
with calluses, and short, blunt-cut bare nails on her long fingers. They
were working hands. 

 She did seem genuinely pleased to meet me, while I still wasn't sure what
to think of her. It didn't help that her friendly eyes looked at me in a
way that somehow reminded me of my own Ray's. Assessing, yet not judging. 

 "Ben, this is Rachel Eileen Walker, formerly the other half of the Tigger
Twins. Me being the first half." 

 "First? Ha! My tail's still full of springs. How `bout yours?" 

 Ray smirked. "Sometimes." 

 "Then you're getting old, Ray." Then she smiled back at me. "You can call
me `Ray' or `Walker,' whatever floats your boat." 

 "I'll call you `Walker,' then." There was no way in hell I intended to
call her "Ray." 

 "That's good. Doable. `Fraser' or `Benton' for you?" 

 "`Fraser,' if you please." I ignored the look Ray shot me. 

 Dief barked indignantly, so Ray said, "And that's Diefenbaker." 

 "He's beautiful. Does he mind being petted?" 

 "Mind? If you pet him and feed him, we might have trouble bringing him
back home with us. Give him donuts, and we'll need a crowbar to pry him
offa you." 

 Diefenbaker, the traitor, luxuriated under her scratching fingers just as
he did under our Ray's. I couldn't watch. 

 "Wait a minute. You forgive me?" Ray asked her. 

 "Huh?" she asked. 

 "I tossed yer friendship aside and treated you like shit, but we're
buddies again just like that?" 

 "Disappointed?" 

 "No but--" 

 "If you want a spanking, I'll have you know I charge for that." 

 "Why is everyone talking about spanking me today?" 

 "It must be something about you, Ray." 

 "Yer forgiving me like this is a guilt thing, isn't it?" 

 "Hell, yeah. I want you to squirm with shame as you think of how badly
you treated someone who's as generous and big-hearted as I am. Don't
stress over it, Ray. I've had DIs who could reduce hardcase recruits to
blubbering wrecks, so you tossing me aside, then taking your divorce out
on me really doesn't rate that high. Besides, I was on assignment away
from you during most of your divorce angst anyway." 

 "Uh. I'm really sorry. I was a real shit to people but especially to
you," Ray said, looking down at his boots. As much as I wanted to leap to
his defense, I wasn't sure if I had the right here. Or if Ray would let
me. 

 "We all understood, and it was years ago anyway." Walker smiled and
ruffled his hair. "Hey, I wasn't even gonna get into it if you hadn't
brought it up. Make it up to me somehow, and we'll be fine." 

 "You sure?" 

 "Yeah. We're good. Really." 

 Ray slowly started to smile again. "Coolness." 

 Walker freed her hair from its tie, ran her hand through it, and
grimaced. "I'm sorry to take off like this, but I just need a quick
shower." 

 "We can't stay long," Ray said. I couldn't help my relief. 

 "Nah, I gotta do this anyway. Won't take long. Ray, everything's exactly
where it was the last time you were here." As she turned to go and flexed
her shoulders, the movement of one her tank top's straps unveiled more of
the black swirls of a small tattoo on her right shoulder blade, but not
enough for me to decipher it. 

 "That was three years ago." 

 From the bathroom she shouted back, "So sue me. I was never one of those
people who wanted to be surprised in the kitchen. No `Hey, where am I
gonna put the sugar today?' Look, I can be adventurous in other parts of
my life." 

 Ray suddenly said to me, "That's an Eye of Horus." 

 "Excuse me?" 

 "The tattoo on her back. It's an Eye of Horus. We..." Ray paused. "We
share an interest in Egyptian stuff." 

 I knew Ray well enough to know that he'd originally intended to say
something very different. What, I wasn't certain. 

 My Ray stopped at the kitchen doorway and did five chin-ups on a bar
nailed in there, seemingly for just that purpose, before going in. I
wanted him, but that wouldn't be appropriate here. Diefenbaker leapt onto
the couch, spun in a slow circle, then settled down and closed his eyes,
instantly comfortable. I decided to take full advantage of the time alone
to study Walker's home. 

 While my Ray's apartment immediately showed his personality and varied
interests, what I saw of Walker's apartment revealed very little with its
light blue walls, bland modern furniture, and generic framed prints. It
could have been a slightly scruffy waiting room for a doctor's office.
What was she hiding? 

 The lavish stereo system surrounded by CDs provided a better picture.
While her selection shared some artists in common with Ray's, some of the
bands had aggressively strange names I'd never heard before. 

 Another small source of information came from the top of a computer desk,
one of the ones you put together yourself from a kit. A plastic female
action figure wielding a samurai sword guarded the laptop computer. Its
molded-on outfit approximated purple-black leather midriff-baring ensemble
that revealed a navel ring, stiletto-heeled thigh-high boots, fishnet
stockings, and spiked shoulder guards. Its makeup painted one vertical
half of its face white. A small item that resembled a straitjacket lay at
its feet. 

 Two large, sheathed knives sat on one of the desk's shelves. Unsheathing
revealed them to be workaday instead of decorative. Well-cared-for and
sharp as well. 

 A few framed photographs near the desk gave a few more clues to the
person who lived here: Walker in a police uniform standing with an older
woman, Walker in an army dress uniform standing near the same woman. One
picture in particular captured my eye; it looked spontaneous instead of
posed and stiff, as the others did. In it, a much younger Walker with
short, spiky hair and black-lined eyes grinned as she rode piggyback on a
young man who also wore eye makeup and all black. She wore a studded
collar and a multitude of black rubber bracelets on each wrist. Another
smaller picture of about the same age tucked into the side of the frame
featured her in the same hair and makeup while wearing a schoolgirl outfit
with its shirt untucked as well as a leather jacket, scuffed motorcycle
boots, and torn fishnet stockings. While I've seen many schoolgirls who
hiked their skirts up to be provocative, her red plaid remained at
knee-length, its natural end. 

 I wondered if those two pictures made the toy make more sense. 

 "Fraser! I'll be right back," Ray said. To my shock, Ray casually opened
a door and walked into her bedroom, uninvited. I heard him mutter, "Huh,
stars and masks are new." Still, the door was open now.... I hung back for
a few moments, then looked in. 

 The rest of the apartment may have looked generic, but her bedroom showed
character, as if she refused to show her true self to her casual guests
and saved it only for those intimate with her. She had surprisingly
classical mahogany furniture here. Small metal stars hung in what seemed
to be patterns from the ceiling; the arrangement suggesting that the deep
blue of walls and ceiling were meant to simulate an evening sky. Books and
knick-knacks packed a set of shelves in one corner. A few masks hanging
from the walls showed blue, green, and peacock feathers. 

 Ray stared at one, and I went cold at the sight of it. After the bright
colors of the others, its black feathers seemed even more somber. Light
from the window picked out the shine of black sequins around the eyeholes
and the sheen of gold and green iridescence in the feathers. With its high
forehead, pronounced eye ridges, and ear tufts it almost suggested an
owl's head, if that owl were utterly black, but it was still wrong. I
tried to tell myself that at least it wasn't designed to look like a
raven; it simply sported black feathers on a generic mask. 

 Ray noticed me watching at last and blinked. Then his fingers combed the
bottom feathers away to reveal black, plastic whiskers. "I think it's
really a cat mask," he said, and his voice almost sounded light and even.
He took it down from its nail and turned it around to reveal that it truly
was shaped like a stylized cat face. "They just glued feathers on it
without even bothering to take the whiskers off. It's not really a bird at
all." He hung it back up and walked to some shelves, rifling through some
large books, before taking one off it. "Got what I came for. Let's stop
invading Ray's privacy and go back out." 

 Once he sat on the couch, Ray handed me a glass of water and opened what
turned out to be a photo album. "We're still invading her privacy, Ray." 

 "Yeah, yeah." 

 "She just--" 

 "The fact that she left me alone out here to look around means she trusts
me and really does forgive me. We are good. It's a big relief; I felt like
shit about how I treated her." He flipped through the pages. "Hey, who
took this?" 

 The photograph depicted a bloodied but still somehow visibly victorious
Ray and Walker leaning against a car, both looking to the side at
something off-camera. His leather jacket gaped enough that his gun and
holster were visible, while she had her hand atop her gun in its holster.
Dried blood spattered the side of Walker's face and her white shirt. The
photograph seemed to show a whole story in one iconic, captured moment
with a style and compositional excellence that looked professional. A
neatly handwritten caption said:
 "`Trigger Twins' 9/16/94. 
 `That'll teach me to wear white.' -- Rachel Walker. Happy birthday, Ray!
JH `95" 

 "Jesus, I remember that day," my Ray said. "Arrested a drug ring and
saved some kids they'd been using as human shields. The standoff lasted
for hours. Most of it was tense waiting with heavy gunfire now and then.
Funny thing is, dangerous as it was, the worst injury our side had was Ray
taking a piece of window glass through her eyebrow, though from all the
blood I really thought she'd lost an eye at the time. That's the small
scar that cuts her right eyebrow in half. The picture has to be one of
John Hamill's, though. Crime scene photographer, he had a sweet spot for
Ray but was too cool to say anything. Wonder if she has any more of his." 

 Ray started to flip again but soon stopped dead. "Damn, there's Ramirez."
The current photograph, an amateur one, showed a group of people, some of
whom I'd seen at the 23rd, in a bar. Ray's tapped one face in particular.
"Can't believe he's gone, but, hell, the guy sitting on my other side here
ate his gun a year after this shot was taken. Michael Johanek." The man
had his arm around Ray's neck in a mock stranglehold. "He was an ass,
but...." Ray tapped Detective Ramirez's face again. "Hope Connie's doing
okay. They were such a love match." 

 "Is Detective Bernstein in this picture?" I asked. 

 "Yeah, my partner's sitting behind me, not that you can see him too good.
You can make out bits of him." 

 I saw graying brown hair, a single brown eye, part of a nose, part of a
mouth. A suit-jacketed arm holding a beer mug might be his. The man could
stand in front of me now, and I wouldn't recognize him from this. 

 Ray started to flip again, past more pictures of his fellow officers,
vacation scenes, and people I didn't know. I wondered if Ray knew all of
them, if he'd been that involved in Walker's life before he'd given up her
friendship to appease Stella. 

 He stopped at another excellent photograph that had him leaning forward
into the camera and grinning cheekily as he formed a perfect smoke ring
while Walker, who also had a cigarette, rolled her eyes far in the
background. From all the things he used to occupy his mouth--gum,
lollipops, toothpicks, pens--I'd guessed he'd smoked at one time. The
picture perfectly captured Ray in a giddy mood, and its caption read:
"`Blowing Smoke.' JH `95" 

 Ray smiled and shook his head. "His work has coffee table books now.
Wonder if these pics are worth something." 

 The album left me disquieted. The photographs showed Ray having a whole
other life he'd given up to portray my partner. Every one showed him
casually touching someone or being touched in turn, suggesting a network
of friends and loved ones. Yet in all his time with the 27th, he'd only
socialized with me or occasionally with me, Inspector Thatcher, and
Turnbull. He'd seemed as much an outsider and loner as I was. 

 Ray snorted suddenly, inspiring me to look again. The photograph depicted
Ray playing billiards, something I'd never seen him do. This picture made
me need to rectify that. He leaned over a billiards table, sighting down
his cue with a predatory glee in his blue eyes, generous mouth set in a
dark grin, hip cocked arrogantly. He wore his glasses, suggesting a deadly
seriousness about his game. Maybe it was better that I'd never watched
him, because I didn't think he could get much done then, not with what the
sight of him looking that way would make me do to him. Other people,
Walker among them, stood behind him, but they looked blurred, as if the
camera had focused as ruthlessly on Ray alone as I did. 

 "That's one of my favorites of Ray," Walker suddenly said nearby. "What?"


 My face must have slipped. "You startled me." 

 "Uh-huh." She adjusted the towel she'd wrapped, turban-style, around her
wet hair. Aside from the towel, she'd dressed up a bit in tailored pants
and a blouse. I wondered if she'd done that from some assumption of my
sensibilities. "If you want copies of anything, Ray, just ask and I'll
look to see if I have the negatives. Except for Johnny's pics; you'd have
to ask him for those, sorry. I can give you his number, though." 

 "I'm not really the picture type," Ray said as he quickly closed the
book. 

 "`Sokay. Looks like I didn't need to tell you that mi casa es su casa,
huh, Ray?" 

 "You love me and you know it." 

 "That's the only thing keeping you alive. I'm glad my shower gave you
enough time to poke around on your own. You could've gotten yourselves
more than just a glass of water, though." 

 Ray shot Walker a look that went by so quickly that someone who didn't
know him as well as I did would have missed it completely. "It's just that
we couldn't stay long. Sorry to interrupt yer routine and get you to
shower and all that, but we have to go." 

 Walker nodded. "I get you." As Ray stood, she made a movement toward him
that she swiftly aborted, stepping back further. "Don't be a stranger. And
it was nice to meet you, Constable." 

 While I walked out into the hall, Ray lingered a moment in the doorway. I
heard Walker say, "I heard about Sam Franklin, and I'm sorry. I never
would have guessed either. I'm glad you finally got the Botrelle thing off
your back. It was good work." 

 "You knew that was us?" Ray asked back. 

 "Hey, you're not the only detective here. Take care of yourself,
darlin'." 

 Apparently lost in thought, Ray stood staring at the closed door until I
asked, "Are you hungry, Ray?" It may have been petty to want his attention
focused entirely back on me, but I couldn't seem to help it. 

 He shook his head but then said, "I could eat." Ah. He'd used the motion
to clear his thoughts instead of in answer. 

 "Chinese, perhaps?" 

 "As long as I don't have to watch you eat some gross dish of real Chinese
food, I'm good. The Americanized stuff is less scary." 

 I smiled to cover the disquiet the day had left me with. "I swear that I
won't order anything that would terrify you."  

 "You've been real quiet, Ben," Ray said as he unlocked the door to his
apartment. "I had to dialogue for both of us, and when ya do that, it
isn't really `dialogue' anymore, ya know?" 

 Indeed. Over dinner he'd told me that it had been strange but good to see
his old comrades again, though it felt like forever since he'd last worked
with them. He thanked me for encouraging him to touch ground with them.
When I asked when I'd done that, he answered that I'd suggested it months
before, during our long wait in the alley for Muldoon. 

 I had to learn to keep my big mouth shut. 

 "Simply thinking, Ray." 

 Diefenbaker sat at Ray's feet with an expectant expression on his face,
tail wagging. Ray smirked. "You just ate, you... you hound. Doggy bag's
for later. It's the nature of the doggy bag. Far be it from us to fight
nature, got it, guy?" 

 Dief made a disgusted sound and stalked off to the bedroom, probably to
roll and shed on Ray's bed in revenge, not that Ray minded all that much.
Actually, Dief usually didn't put much effort into his vengeance anyway
since he knew he could wear Ray down into agreement later. 

 "Man, and I wanted kids once." Ray shook his head, then looked at me.
"You'd let me know if something's bothering you, right?" 

 Would you, Ray? Goose and gander would only be fair play. "I was worried
about your behavior this morning, actually." 

 Ray quirked an eyebrow and set his hand on my arm in what seemed to be
half comfort and half tease. How wonderful that I had someone who could
touch me like that. "I thought you were really into that kinda thing,
actually. Didn't have any complaints at the time, that's for sure." 

 I refused to let him deflect my inquiries by making me remember his
throaty sounds of pleasure or the warm slide of his sweat-slick skin
beneath my fingers and lips-- I would not. "I meant how you looked in the
bathroom before that." 

 "Oh." Ray fidgeted. 

 "I ask you what you just asked me." 

 Ray looked miserable, so I stroked his hair. He made a small sound in his
throat before saying, "I don't know if I can explain it to someone else.
Part of it came from it being like 3 a.m. or something. Everything seems
scarier then. I just hadn't seen myself for months, then there I was in
that mirror and I looked like somebody different. It doesn't sound like
much now, but it wigged me out at the time." 

 I liked some of the changes his appearance had undergone in the last few
months, like the now longer hair that I so enjoyed tangling my fingers in.
However, I'd watched those changes overtake him slowly, while he'd been
confronted with them all at once while in a fatigued and vulnerable state
of mind. 

 "It was just a 3 a.m. thing," Ray continued. "You know, yer only
half-awake, and you get a good look at yerself in a mirror for the first
time in forever, and you don't recognize the guy on the other side. I'm
dealing with it, and it won't happen again." Ray settled his hand on my
waist. "Now, can I pounce on ya without you thinking I'm just trying to
change the subject? Otherwise, you better get used to abstinence, because
if I'm not giving it to you, yer not getting it anywhere else." 

 "You can guarantee that?" 

 "I can make sure. Count on it. And it seems to me that all suspicion and
no sex would make Benton Fraser one really grumpy boy." 

 Could things really be so wrong if Ray could purr at and joke with me? "I
could pounce on you." 

 Ray's slow grin was sex and provocation all at once. "Prove it." 

 I did.  

 I smiled as I looked out over a pristine snowscape and took in a deep
breath of pure, chill air. I felt giddy as I looked over the expanse of
wilderness and clear night sky. Home. But I heard something behind me just
under the sound of the wind. Whimpering. I turned to look. 

 Ray knelt, half crumpled, a shaking lump of black leather and moonlit
blond hair against glittering white ice crystals. One hand clutched his
stomach as the other clenched in the snow. 

 I crouched beside him and took him in my arms, holding tightly. "Ray!
What's wrong?" 

 "I don't feel so good," he whispered as he shuddered. He made a sound of
abject agony and shook harder. It suddenly felt like his whole body beat
at me like hundreds of... wings? 

 Ray had exploded into hundreds of shrieking ravens, and they wanted to be
free, even if they had to pummel and shred me to do so. They pecked at me
in their struggle to escape, but I knew that if even one disappeared I
would never be able to put Ray back together again. I struggled against
the pain and held on, but they broke loose one by one, and each space gave
the others more room to hit me with their glossy wings. As soon as I
gripped one, two more escaped me, hurtling into the sky. Incited by the
scent of blood, some of them tore my flesh and feasted before they
departed. Despairing, I was left with only one raven clutched in my fists,
and it promptly pecked my left eye out in an explosion of pain and blood.
Cackling, it flew away. 

 They left me in a world gone flat and dull. The broad vistas I'd admired
earlier seemed narrower, confining. 

 Ray was gone, and I didn't know if I would ever get him back. 

 I crumpled in a puddle of blood the color of my tunic with a few
iridescent black feathers clinging to my knees and hands. I closed my
remaining eye and shuddered. 

 When I opened it again, I saw someone standing in front of me. I looked
up and realized that the black-clad figure was Walker, who wore the
raven-feathered cat mask that hung on her wall. The mask's high forehead
changed the dimensions of her face, making her look inhuman and pitiless,
while her dark eyes, further shadowed by the pronounced eye ridges, were
unreadable. One side of her face had been painted white. 

 Her red lips curved into a dark smile as she took a photograph out an
inside pocket of her trench coat. My Ray moved, smiled, and laughed within
it. Then she put it away again and exploded into a large flock of ravens
herself, winging away from me and making flying shadows over the full moon
above, taking my last sight of Ray with her. 

 I flailed out, reaching for Ray, as soon as I woke. He grunted as my hand
slapped his arm in my panic but didn't wake. He'd drifted away from me a
little so he could soak up the sunbeams that reached only that end of the
bed, reminding me of a cat dozing in the sun. Backlit, his head seemed to
glow around the edges. The contented look on his face made my heart slow
to a less punishing pounding. Tracing the angles and lines of his face
further calmed me. 

 He was light and warmth to me. How anyone could call him "Stanley" when
his chosen name of "Ray" fit him so well, I would never know. 

 I couldn't sleep any longer, but he looked far too relaxed for me to wake
him. Perhaps I should take advantage of this time to reacquaint myself
with Chicago before meeting with my original Ray. 

 Remembering Ray's reluctance yesterday to say he wouldn't be returning to
the 23rd, I had to see if anything or anyone kept me here aside from my
Ray. 

 The thought of leaving Ray alone for however much time my pursuit took
gave me a strange fear. This was ludicrous. No matter how much we loved
one another or Ray joked of being joined at the hip, we could hardly walk
through life manacled together. It would seem that I needed to do this
alone more than I thought. 

 As I stood, Diefenbaker leapt up onto the bed and snuggled against Ray.
"You could use a walk anyway," I said. He gave me an annoyed look and
curled tighter against Ray. "We're leaving after I get dressed." He
mumbled something derogatory behind me. "Language, Dief." 

 By the time I returned, Ray had awakened, though he still looked
sleepy-eyed. The sight of him, languid and tousled--well, more tousled
than usual--made me want to crawl back into bed and let him undress me. He
looked up from ruffling Dief's fur and asked, "Vecchio wanted to meet you
this early? Didn't seem like the type." 

 "You're right on that." 

 "Then what's up?" 

 I looked for a way to say this without sounding insulting. Ray saved me
the effort. "You want to see the city on yer own for a bit? I get that." 

 "You do?" 

 "Sure. Besides, we've been welded together for the last two months, and
that's not healthy." 

 It only remained my fondest dream, though I understood that Ray and I had
some differences. Those differences made our relationship more
interesting. 

 Truly. 

 "I'll see you later, then, Ray." 

 "Yeah, enjoy yer day." 

 "Come along, Dief." Diefenbaker whined at me and snuggled in closer to
Ray, who seemed to find it all hilarious. "Dief." He grumbled and jumped
off the bed, giving me a resentful look. 

 I meant to give Ray a quick kiss goodbye, but it became something long
and heated. I well understood why Dief would prefer to spend the day
burrowed against Ray's side. Ray had one hand gripping my collar and the
other rumpling my hair. I had to stop this. 

 I untangled our tongues and said, "I'll never leave if we continue this."


 "I'm waiting for you to start talking about bad things." 

 "Ray." 

 "Yeah, yeah." He let go of me in a slow, caressing trail of fingertips.
"Don't know what I did to deserve someone who doesn't mind my morning
mouth. Goodbye, Ben." 

 "I'll see you tonight, Ray." As Diefenbaker and I left, I realized that
my hair was still rumpled from Ray's stroking fingers. 

 I left it be.	

 Ben leaving totally woke me up, so I figured I might as well get up. Bed
wasn't as much fun without him anyway. I jerked off in the shower,
dressed, and had breakfast before I realized that I had no idea what the
hell I was going to do with myself for the rest of the day. 

 I didn't get it. I mean, I had interests that didn't involve Ben. Thing
was, I felt so scattered and distracted that I couldn't keep my mind
together to do them. 

 Well, there had to be simple, stupid stuff here I'd let slide since
March.... Ah. 

 I ended up cleaning my guns and oiling the leather of my holsters.
Meditative stuff. It took me a while. Once I finished, I put one of my
holsters on and fastened it, enjoying the weight and familiar pull of
straps across my shoulders and back. I'd felt too light in Canada without
it. Unanchored. I did my quick draw and gun-spinning tricks as I watched
myself in the mirror, but it didn't have the same vibe no matter how good
it felt to have my gun again. The person looking back at me wasn't me. He
didn't even look much like me. 

 I'd handed in Vecchio's badge and identity before Fraser and I went off
alone into the Deep North, but I hadn't gotten my own back yet. It meant
that I wasn't Ray Vecchio anymore, but I wasn't Stanley Raymond Kowalski
either. I was some other Ray, but only when Fraser was around. Without
him... without him I felt lost, adrift. Didn't know who I was. I needed to
touch base with myself, needed something familiar that wasn't Fraser.
Stella, was my first thought, but I smartened up quick. Not her. Hell, I
did the Vecchio thing to get away from me-with-her. 

 Yesterday's visit to the 23rd had just underscored how distant that old
life felt. I liked those guys, but I was just going through the motions
with them. We'd never been friends, really, just folks who worked together
and hung out sometimes. Time might have made me more comfortable with them
again, but I didn't have that at the moment. And Bernstein wasn't even in
the state, not that Bernstein and me would've hung together as much if we
hadn't been partners. Besides, they were all at work at the moment, unlike
me. 

 And unlike somebody else. I knew what I could do. I just hoped she didn't
laugh in my face. 

 I dialed my cell phone and enjoyed the feel of it in my hand. I could use
my regular phone, but I'd missed my cell phone in Canada almost as much as
I'd missed my gun. 

 "Hello?" Ray asked. 

 "Hey, it's me. You doing anything today?" 

 "Hey!" Sounded friendly. "You called." 

 "I figured out how to use my phone." 

 "Good for you. Nah, I'm not doing anything. I'm working on my bills. It
was nice of Charlie to volunteer to do this stuff while I was undercover,
but that man couldn't balance a checkbook if his life depended on it.
Please save me from this." 

 I laughed. "See ya in about two hours?" 

 "I'll be done with this by then, I hope, so so much for saving me." 

 "You always did say you could take care of yerself." 

 "Oh yeah, throw that in my face. See you in two." 

 I ran my hand through my hair. Yeah, two hours should be more than enough
time to take care of this problem.  

 Only a rubble-strewn vacant lot remained of the building I'd once lived
in. I suddenly wondered what had become of my old neighbors, where they
lived now, and chided myself for never having given it a thought before.
They'd been displaced as I'd been after the fire, but I never tried to
find out if they'd successfully found new homes. No one else had the
option of living at one's workplace, as I had. I had lived among them,
fought eviction with them, yet forgotten them completely. How could I have
closed the book on that part of my life so casually? It was very unlike
me. 

 It smacked dangerously of dissociative tendencies. At the very least, it
suggested that I'd let my subconscious take more control than I realized.
Was it possible that.... Ah. That could explain it. 

 My immediate attraction to my second Ray had frightened me so, not simply
for its intensity. I feared that I was about to make all the same mistakes
with him I'd made with my first Ray. And how many times had I fantasized
about asking my first Ray to stay the night? In fact, one particularly
long night spent pacing my apartment thinking over that very issue had
compelled me to confess my feelings at last the very next day. With
disastrous results. 

 A selfish part of me had appreciated the clean start the lack of my
apartment had presented. No memories. No reminders. No temptations. I
could live at the new consulate--fewer memories again--and feel
unqualified to make my new Ray an offer to stay at such a hallowed place.
In any case, who'd want to share a cot in my office? 

 Although the temptations of having him around the consulate during the
Volpe case had been intense. I still distrusted how happy his time with me
then had made me. It wasn't as if he'd had a choice in the matter. 

 I'd avoided my former neighbors to avoid reminders of my old apartment
and my mistake with my first Ray. Not consciously, perhaps, but that was
what had happened all the same. 

 My theory made sense, and I'd have to guard against such self-delusion
and selfishness in the future. 

 Diefenbaker whined, bored with this place that no longer had the scent of
home and bored with my mental meanderings, so I started to walk again.
Chicago remained Chicago, familiar even through the years' small changes,
and I saw many places I'd traveled past or investigated in my years here. 

 How many lives had I touched, however fleetingly, in this large city?
Given the eye-catching nature of my dress uniform, I was no doubt
remembered even by people I'd only walked past or stood sentry in front
of. Detective Santiago had said that Chicago's media commonly used my
escapades on "slow" news days, which broadened the number of citizens
aware of me, people I'd never encountered in person. How odd to think that
I might have made an impression on more people in my few years here than I
might have in an entire lifetime in the Yukon. The differences in
population size made that inevitable, but it remained a daunting thought. 

 Dressed in civilian gear, I attracted little notice today, but when I
stepped into a diner I had frequented while I'd lived in the area, Millie
nearly bounced toward me as she greeted me with a warm "Benton! It's been
an age! Your table is free if you're here to eat." She crouched down to
scratch Dief's ears, something he enjoyed shamelessly. 

 "I am indeed." 

 She yelled, "Joe, our Mountie's back!" over the counter into the kitchen,
then followed me to the table, stopping briefly to fill a water bowl for
Dief. "Mrs. Baptista mentioned you just last week. Where did you end up
after the fire?" 

 "It's a long, strange story." I wondered how she'd react to my tale of
living in my office. 

 "I have time once I take your order. Regular A or B?" 

 "Then I'll have time to inquire after my past neighbors. B, please." 

 "Like I need an excuse to gossip. Milk or tea?" 

 "Both." 

 Millie smiled. "Thirsty boy today. And I'll get Dief's regular too." 

 "Millie!" one of the other customers shouted. 

 Millie dramatically set her hand on her hip. "You only had your hand in
the air for three seconds before you started yelling. I know your mother
taught you better." She made a swatting motion at him with her notepad,
while he, apparently a regular, cringed in exaggerated terror. 

 My Ray would like her, and she'd appreciate another victim to mother.
Then again, I didn't know if I'd be able to cope with two people talking
and moving so quickly in the same space. 

 After she delivered my order and refilled the other customer's coffee,
Millie stood at my table, smiled, and started, "You will not believe where
Mr. and Mrs. Baptista ended up. Turns out that his son knew this guy who
was friends with this one landlord in the area, and...." 

 Three hours later, sated on gossip and the Sage Diner's excellent
chicken, I walked out into the street and waded through an ocean of sounds
and smells, multitudes of people. Over the next few hours I helped two
elderly women cross the street and a young boy find his parents. It gave
me an odd sense of near belonging. 

 Ray had said that the Territories had a different energy than Chicago.
The Territories felt steady and even, like sunlight, but Chicago arced and
pulsed like electricity. I found it significant and disturbing at the time
that Ray had described Chicago in ways that could also describe him, but
now that I was here again I felt it myself to some extent. Perhaps the
masses of people made the difference. 

 Our walk led us unerringly to the consulate. Despite my greater fondness
for this building than for the original consulate and the copious amount
of time I'd spent here, this building produced almost no sense of
nostalgia. My only attachment to it stemmed from memories of Ray
instinctively running here to me for help and staying with me after
Andreas Volpe's murder. Ren's vivid description of Ray sliding into the
foyer on his knees screaming my name often made me regret that I hadn't
seen it myself. Given the uncertainty clouding Ray's future at the time
and Ray's understandable distress, I'd felt guilty that keeping him in my
custody left me feeling so warm and happy. I still feel guilty. 

 Walking in, it surprised me that the consulate looked precisely the same
as when I'd left it months ago. My life had changed, so some part of me
felt that it should have as well. 

 "Sir!" Turnbull leapt to his feet into regulation stance to salute me,
then raced forward, arms outstretched. Then remembering himself, he
stopped just short. 

 I couldn't help smiling. Instead of the hug he'd thought to offer me
before he remembered it wouldn't be proper, I clapped him on the arms,
briefly squeezing, in a comradely manner that I knew he would interpret as
my version of the same gesture. 

 He beamed. "The consulate hasn't been the same without you." 

 "I'm hardly here in an official manner," I answered. 

 "Ah, reconnaissance. Wise, sir. Although I regret to tell you that our
new inspector is not available at the moment for you to meet first in any
case." 

 "How is our new inspector?" 

 "A fine man, sir." But Turnbull's look said otherwise. We'd perfected a
kind of code between us based in glances and vocal tones. 

 "I see." 

 "I'm sure you'll enjoy working with him." 

 "I may not be coming back, Turnbull." 

 I expected his face to fall a little, but instead he looked utterly
confused. "But-- Yes, sir. Truthfully, I may not be here much longer
myself." 

 He'd changed the subject too quickly for me to hunt down the reason for
his reaction and still be polite. "Truly?" 

 "I've been considering a return home to run for office. I think I have
much to offer the public." 

 "Indeed." 

 Before I could return to what I wanted to ask, Turnbull asked, "Would you
like to see your office, sir?" 

 My office and home for nearly two years. It had never been meant to be
much more than a storage room and made my Spartan apartment look luxurious
by comparison. Did I want to see it again? 

 If I did visit that room, what would I find in its closet? I knew I would
feel compelled to look if I stood at that door. I didn't know if it would
horrify me more to find the remains of my father's office or only a tiny
closet. 

 "No, Turnbull. That... that will not be necessary." 

 Turnbull gave me a searching look. "You won't be staying here long, will
you?" 

 The consulate? Chicago? I didn't know what he meant. Did he know
something I didn't? It scared me that he would ask such a question and
left me at a loss for words. 

 Then I chided myself for being so silly. He had to mean the consulate. I
was simply being oversensitive to a question that had inadvertently struck
at the heart of my confusion. 

 Turnbull turned to his desk, picked up a piece of paper and pen, and
quickly wrote something down. He pressed it gently into my hand. "Forgive
me if I'm being too forward, sir, but this is my address. If you need
anything at all, please feel free to stop by. I would have included a
phone number had I possessed a telephone." 

 Touched, I carefully folded the paper and placed it in my jacket pocket.
"Thank you, Ren." I put as much warmth into the words as I could. 

 "Please feel free. I am at your disposal." 

 I could imagine Ray's response to that, and it made me smile even as it
made me marvel that I felt his presence even when he wasn't with me. "Have
a good day, Turnbull. I may stop by to see you again." 

 It may have been my imagination, but it almost seemed that Renfield
muttered, "I think you will," to himself as I closed the door behind me.  

 "Oh, baby! I like it," Ray said as soon as she opened the door and got a
good look at me. 

 Which was good to hear, but considering what the people she'd hung out
with in her misspent youth had looked like--namely like total freaks--it
wasn't totally reassuring. Hell, some of my friends had been freaks too,
so I wasn't sure if I was a good judge either. "It's really blond," I
prompted. 

 Ray grinned, still taking a good look at my head. "That it definitely
is." 

 "Really blond." 

 "Uh-huh." 

 She could leave me hanging forever, the bitch. "Okay, yeah, but my
question is--" 

 "It can pass for natural blond. Just. You're not in Marilyn Monroe
territory." 

 "Thank you, and thank God. I said I didn't want it dark anymore, but it
started to look like the girl wanted my hair to glow." 

 Something eerie played in the background. Oh, the Rolling Stones' "Gimme
Shelter." I remembered Ray once saying she wished she could mix the best
of the Sisters of Mercy version with the Stones original. Whatever, I
soaked it in. I think I missed music the most during my time in the Yukon.


 "Do you like how it turned out?" Ray asked. 

 I stroked the peach fuzz at the back of my neck. I was shaved in some
places, spiked in others, and light blond in the right places. It felt
good. "It's an extreme change, but yeah, I think I will once I get used to
seeing it on my head." 

 "Then nothing else matters." 

 "Thank you, Ms. After-school Special. How about we have lunch and then
figure out what's next?" 

 "Ooooh, take charge." 

 "Bite me." 

 "Any place in particular?" 

 I had to remember not to say that, because she always had the same
answer. But, hell, I came here looking for the familiar, and she made me
smile. "You finished?" 

 "Yeah. Let's do Chicago like it's never been done before."  

 As we parked, Ray said, "Jeez, Ray, you should have asked for more pita
bread or let me do it if you were feeling shy." 

 "Not the point. The point is that I couldn't eat that much tahini, bread
or no bread. Nobody could. Adding more bread would make it worse." 

 "Your Mountie must not be feeding you right. The Ray I knew could eat me
under the table." When I raised my eyebrow at that one, she just said,
"Shut up." 

 "Uh-huh." I hadn't come out to her or anything; she'd just figured it out
on her own. And made an occasional comment about it. Not having to go into
it had been a relief, but it worried me that so many people were picking
up on it without me saying anything. At least Ray knowing without a word
from me made more sense than hearing about it from Frannie yesterday. 

 "You know what I meant." 

 "Suuuuure." I decided to let her off the hook. "I ate crazy stuff up
there: pemmican, lichen, blubber." 

 "What the hell is pemmican?" 

 "I still don't know, and I'm probably better off that way." 

 "You're kidding me." 

 "On some of it, yeah." 

 "Damn. You must really love this guy." 

 "I... never thought of it that way. He asked me to stay, and I did." 

 Ray rolled her eyes. 

 When we walked into our favorite pool bar, we saw that it had gone
seriously bad. A yuppie hangout now. Billiards instead of pool. No
smoking, no decent beer, no real players. Everybody all Casual Friday in
clothing that they paid a lot for to look like they were wearing an
expensive version of stuff the rest of us didn't pay a lot for. 

 Ray looked as disgusted as I felt, but we went in and got a table in the
corner anyway. Pigheaded times two, that's us. The yuppies gave us looks,
but we went into undercover mode #3, The Dangerous Psychotics, and gave
off attitude. Mess with us, and we'll fuck you up with extreme prejudice.
Would've looked even better if we still smoked, but we didn't need to. Our
dead-eyed, crazy stare and long-legged strut disturbed them enough that
they found something more interesting to do that didn't involve looking at
us. 

 I was kind of relieved she'd decided for pool. Extreme ping-pong was fun,
but it left me beat. Ball stays in play as long as it keeps moving, no
matter what it's moving on: table, floor, walls, one of us.... It's like a
triathlon if you play it in a big room when you have to run farther for
the ball. I end up wearing my glasses to protect my eyes, and she tries to
bounce the ball off `em. 

 "You don't wanna know what they have in the jukebox," Ray said as she
came back. 

 "From what's playing, I can guess." One of those fake earnest, fake rock
bands that have one hit album then die in blessed obscurity. Then the next
band comes up.... "These people need a taste transplant." 

 "Like the beer couldn't tell you that. Five different microbrews, and
none worth a damn." 

 "The Canadian stuff spoiled me. Not a word." 

 "I'm biting my lip so I won't mention your Canadian hunk of burning love
as we speak. I won't even say anything like, `Once you've had Canadian,
you never go back.' Marvel at my self-control. Though those Canadian M&M
kind of things you let me try sucked. Too sweet and waxy." 

 "I needed some version of my fix in the Great North. You gonna take a
breath?" 

 "I am breathing, and it's overrated." As Ray racked up the balls, she
said, "I can shoot with one eye closed, seeing as how you're almost blind.
Make it more fair." 

 "You always shoot with one eye closed. You got that lazy eye." 

 "Sure, ruin a generous gesture. And I have that under control. I focus
just fine." 

 "Yeah, yeah." She did, 98% of the time. It's just that I'd seen her
dead-dog tired often enough that I knew her right eye started to slide out
of focus from her left sometimes, giving her one wall eye. It made great
teasing material, and I needed all the ammunition there I could get. "I'll
wear the glasses." 

 "Can you stand the shame?" 

 "I'll manage," I said as I put them on and bared my teeth at her. 

 "Then let's get it on." 

 As Ray played, her eyes took on a focused predatory gleam. I could almost
watch her mind working, figuring out the angles, calculating her shots. It
was weird seeing these things from the outside when I felt myself doing
them from the inside, but I was used to that from way back. It also made
me wonder if I moved and looked like pure, evil sex when I played pool. 

 As she bent over the table to shoot, she flashed a fuck-me smile at some
of the surrounding yuppie types. It went nice with her crazy sociopath
eyes. Some of the guys looked like they couldn't figure out whether they
wanted to beg her for a go or piss their khakis. 

 It would be funny if she didn't have those eyes looking a little too
real. 

 She wouldn't talk about her last assignment at all. 

 Sometimes you wore the mask so long that your face started to change to
match it. My mask as Ray Vecchio hadn't been that bad, hadn't made me do
too many things I wouldn't normally do. I could tell she hadn't been so
lucky. 

 Once in a while I'd have to do a bad assignment, put on a really nasty
skin that stuck to me too tightly to just cast off once it was done.
Sometimes Ray and I were even in one together, coming out of it mutually
fucked up. Maybe Ray was with me now to reconnect to herself, as I'd
called on her to do the same for me. 

 So I'd have to try to be me for her, because she'd do the same, she was
trying to do the same, for me. How fucked up is that?  

 I was still walking, lost in thought, with Diefenbaker when I heard
"Benny!" shouted at me. When I turned and smiled in greeting, I was
surprised to see Ray Vecchio's head poking out the driver's side window of
an old station wagon. 

 Ray immediately interpreted my look and said, half-teasing, "Would've
been nice if you could have told me about the Riv. I had to find out from
Ma." 

 I'd forgotten entirely. A green Buick Riviera had ferried me around
Chicago for two years, and I knew how much it meant to Ray, yet I'd
forgotten entirely. "I'm sorry, Ray. In all the excitement, it slipped my
mind." 

 "Yeah, Muldoon would have taken up anybody's attention. Get in." 

 "It's not six o'clock." 

 "It's impossible that I might take advantage of getting more time since I
happened across you this way?" 

 I smiled. "I'll get in." I crossed the street and walked around to the
passenger side. Diefenbaker leapt into the back seat, immediately
spreading himself all the way across its length. I took my own seat in
front soon after. 

 "It's a lovely car, Ray." 

 "Sure it is." Ray sighed as dramatically as he could. "How long did it
take for my Riv to catch a bullet?" 

 "Actually, it caught fire from a bomb planted by a performance arsonist's
apprentice and partner." 

 "By Motherwell's girl, Greta Garbo. Then you took it for a swim in Lake
Michigan. I know, I know. I saw the report. It was a figure of speech.
What I'm asking is how long it survived having you riding around in it
this time." 

 "A few hours." 

 "A new speed record." Ray sounded upset, but he also had a laughing light
in his eyes that made me feel a bit better. "What do you have against the
noble Buick Riviera?" 

 "It's not what I `have' against the car. It would better profit you to
ask what Chicago's criminal population has against your car." 

 "Oh sure, deflect the blame onto a few criminals." 

 "What you're driving now is a perfectly nice car." 

 "It's my family's. A station wagon, for God's sake. It doesn't say what I
want it to say. The Riviera, now that car made the right statement." 

 "And that statement would be `blow me up'?" 

 "You're a funny guy. It's a good thing for you Ma wants you there for
dinner, or I'd have to demand satisfaction for that." 

 "You would fight a duel with me, Ray?" We almost sounded as if he'd never
left. Almost. 

 In his presence, I knew that I still loved him, but as a friend now, with
much of the former light and heat I'd felt gone. The thought left me sad
and relieved all at once, even as it exorcised a fear I hadn't even
admitted to myself. My Ray had no rival in my heart. 

 "That's what forks are for, Benny. Then again, the family's gonna be
there, so maybe I'll get revenge after all." 

 "I can't stay for dinner." I missed my Ray terribly and wondered how he'd
kept himself occupied. I'd expected that we would share our stories over
dinner. 

 "I said `six.' `Six' means dinner, and Ma is not gonna take no for an
answer." 

 "But you met me an hour early." 

 "Then we'll just have to gab longer, and Ma will get more time too. Look,
she's been looking forward to seeing you. Are you gonna let her down?" 

 My Ray would understand. "Of course not, Ray. Do you have a phone I could
use?" 

 "Nah. I leave it behind when I don't want to be bothered. A guy needs a
bit of alone time now and then." 

 I didn't answer that I felt I'd long ago had a surfeit of such time. But
surely I could make my call to Ray at the Vecchio house.  

 As Ray lined up her next shot, I asked, "How's your Dad?" 

 She didn't flinch, and her tone remained blank as she said, "He's dead." 

 Maybe I could put my foot deeper down my throat, work on my gag reflex.
"Shit. I'm sorry." 

 She shook her head. "It's, like, 11 months ago. And he forgave me before
he died." 

 "Forgave you? For what?" 

 "For not being the daughter he wanted. He was all magnanimous about it." 

 "Fucker." 

 "I mean, there he was dying with all those tubes in him and machines
keeping him alive, and he still had the strength to backhand me with his
words." 

 "What the hell did he want you to do?" 

 Ray shrugged. "Get married. Give him grandkids. Work in a job where I'd
be wearing a skirt and pumps if I wasn't home taking care of the little
ones. Do you know he figured me dressing the way I do and being single
this long automatically means I'm a lesbian? He put the big stoic martyr
face on as he told me he was okay with that as long as I found some way to
give him grandkids. Deb nearly died laughing--well, after she got over the
wanting-tosnap -his-neck-for-him part--when I told her about it later,
that she never realized I was playing for her team all these years. Oh,
yeah, he also finally `forgave' me for going into the army to pay for
college, graduating college after four years, then `wasting' all that by
entering the Police Academy and becoming a cop. But I just stood there in
front of him and took it all without a word. Wait, I thanked him, seeing
as how he was dying and all. Didn't tell Mom about what he said either,
`cause it would just upset her." 

 Ray and her mom were weird, not close like me and Mum. Her mom was just
her default parent, since her dad was an asshole. Sometimes I thought Ray
kept this stuff from her mother for fear her mom would side with him. I
just said, "It's a good thing for him he's dead, because I'd kill him." 

 "Thanks." Ray shot and sank her ball effortlessly. "Hey, you didn't ask
about my dad to make me ruin my shot, did you?" 

 "Nope." 

 "That's what I figured. How are things with you and yours? I mean, you
got the GTO, which is as gorgeous as you always said it was--" 

 "Thank you." 

 "--but I didn't want to make any assumptions." 

 "He's back in my life. Things're better." 

 "And it's easier when you're an adult and don't live with him." 

 "Hell, yeah." From her posture, I could tell she wanted to ask if Dad
ever got that look in his eyes like he wanted to wallop me again anymore.
"And not lately." Nah, things had been good since they came back from
Arizona to see me. Dad and I had been doing so well lately that it made me
worry about screwing it all up. 

 She knew exactly what I meant by "not lately." "Good. He know about you
and--" 

 And speaking of.... "No." 

 "Probably a wise move on your part." 

 From the way she kept fiddling with her bottle of beer and twirling her
pool cue, not to mention all the gum and lollipops I'd seen her shove into
her mouth today, I had to ask, "You just quit smoking again, didn't ya?" 

 "Nice subject change." She didn't even look surprised by my penetrating
insight. "Yeah. Started again during my last assignment. Two days with
those guys, and I was smoking like a chimney and cursing like a Tarantino
character. You should have seen me last week." 

 "Glad I didn't." Funny thing is that it was a smoking incident that made
Stella decide I couldn't be friends with Ray anymore. She told me so. All
those moments that would have looked compromising to people who weren't
Ray and me--not that any of the things we did really were--and Stella
ended up getting her panties in a knot over me bumming a smoke. 

 Okay, maybe it was the way I did it. Ray and I were walking to our cars,
Ray had already lit up, and I realized I was out. So I plucked the
cigarette from her mouth and put it into mine. She called me a cheap
bastard and flipped me off, while I told her she loved it. It wasn't the
first time I'd ever done it. I saw Stel walking up and gave her a "hey
there," but she shook her head and kept walking. At the time I thought she
was just busy, but it turned out that she actually had that patented
Stella slow boil starting. 

 Stupid thing is that I quit smoking a week later before Stel even said
anything. Just got tired of something having that kind of power over me.
Ray quit soon after in sympathy and to keep a bit of temptation away from
me. It made me feel better, since she really suffered. Boot camp had left
her with a habit the size of an orangutan on her back, and it had been
riding her for years by then. Made my problem look like a walk in the park
by comparison. It surprised me that none of our fellow officers shot us
during those two weeks to put us out of our misery and theirs. 

 I must have been insane to give Ray up on Stella's say-so. I didn't have
many friends. I mean, I was friendly with lots of people, kind of hung
with them, but they were acquaintances, like. I only had a tiny ring of
real friends, and Ray had been one of them. And I'd kicked Ray to the curb
when Stella asked me to in some effort to make her happy. And lost Stella
anyway. 

 Odds were good that Stella making that demand hadn't been about Ray at
all, that I could have saved things without tossing Ray away. Maybe Stel
had just meant to put her foot down or make a point, trusting me to read
between the lines or just figuring that I'd never give up on a friend on
her say-so. But I took it literally and actually did what she asked, and
she could never take it back or tell me that I took it wrong. Stella tell
me that I shouldn't take her at her literal word, tell me she'd been
wrong? Hell would freeze over first. It was too much of a loss of face, a
sign of weakness. No, she'd let me live with my mistake. It was all too
possible. I just didn't know, and it was too late anyway.  

 Mrs. Vecchio's enthusiastic greeting--fussing over me in a way that made
feel very uncomfortable, being kind enough to ask about my Ray--as soon as
I walked into the house made me worry that I might be the center of
attention tonight. I barely escaped having my cheeks pinched. However, all
the boisterous cross-talk and arguing as the family ate gave me a welcome
invisibility through most of the dinner, though now and then one or
another of the family would try to get me to intercede and take sides.
Eventually they realized again that I didn't do such things, especially
when I knew so little of the matters in dispute. Ray finally yelling,
"Look, Fraser's like Switzerland. Neutral. Capisce? You already know that,
so stop bugging him," helped. 

 Diefenbaker also helped divert attention from me, though not for selfless
reasons. I think every member of the Vecchio family gave him tidbits after
he flagrantly begged for them. He would have to waddle home at this rate. 

 While I enjoyed the food, the sound and number of people overwhelmed me.
Mrs. Vecchio had invited me and my Ray to dinner a few times, but that had
been a long time ago. Ray had held up under the sound, fury, and scrutiny
well, but during our last dinner visit he'd asked Mrs. Vecchio if he could
talk to her in the kitchen alone. I have to admit that I'd eavesdropped
shamelessly. 

 He told her that he saw that seeing him reminded her of her absent son
and hurt her, so she didn't have to continue inviting him to dinner. He
would miss going, but he couldn't be happy seeing the strain the pretense
and his presence put on her. He'd continue doing "man of the house" things
and drop by now and then, but she didn't need to put on a show for his
sake. He didn't want to cause her pain. She protested that she could bear
this, but he wouldn't hear of it. Then I heard shuffling followed by
silence. 

 When I peeked in, I saw her with her arms clasped in a tight hug around
him, my tall partner just about folded around her like a blanket. He
hugged her back with what had to be genuine feeling, making me wish I
could have seen the look on his face. Not many people outside that tight
protective circle would have heard her murmur, "You're a good man... and a
good son," into his chest. I saw a brief shudder run through him. 

 If Ray could not come for dinner, then neither would I. Mrs. Vecchio
understood and thanked me for continuing to look after her son. 

 I hadn't known at the time how far away my Ray's own family was, with him
only speaking to his mother by the telephone now and then, or how
nonexistent his contact with his father had been for years. I hadn't known
then just how much he'd sacrificed by distancing himself from a family
willing to take him in. 

 And Ray did fulfill those "man of the house" duties farther than anyone
could have expected. He dealt with the insurance company on restoring the
house after the fire and took care of a number of other smaller matters
for Mrs. Vecchio. He bought presents, thoughtful ones, for his fake family
on Christmas and their birthdays. 

 He even visited now and then but never stayed long enough to possibly
upset her. The invitations to dinner still came now and then, but my Ray
made graceful excuses every time. 

 Now I sat at this table again, and the family may have been the same, but
I was not the same. Although I was aware that the meal had been delicious,
I actually tasted very little of it, being too lost in my own mind to be
as aware of my body. My memories also kept me quieter than usual,
something the real Ray Vecchio noticed. I watched him watch me. His
expression told me nothing, and I wondered if that was because we hadn't
seen one another much for nearly two years or if he'd learned a better
poker face during his assignment in the mob. Either way, it troubled me.
Ray was not the same either. 

 We were not the people we'd once been, and I felt it keenly. He felt like
a stranger to me. Worse, a stranger who shouldn't feel like a stranger.
Our friendship and relations would never be the same. 

 But if I wanted to be truly honest with myself, our friendship "hadn't
been the same" even before he left me and Chicago to be Armando
Langoustini. Even before I left for my vacation to Canada. My vacation. I
lied to myself well. It had been running away, pure and simple. 

 I had made the terrible mistake of telling my best friend that I loved
him, and he had responded in a way I should have expected, given the
course of my dealings in love. He hadn't quite reacted in disgust, but he
certainly hadn't decided to forgive and forget. Unable to withstand his
new distrust of me, certain that I had ruined the friendship I'd treasured
from him, I ran home, telling myself that a little time and distance might
heal the wounds I'd caused. 

 By the time I'd returned, he'd already left. No reconciliation or closure
would be granted. 

 By the time he returned, it all seemed too long ago, too far away. Too
late. 

 Given my record, I should count myself lucky that my Ray had said he
loved me back. Given my record, I should be shocked it had taken this many
weeks for our relations to start to fracture. 

 I had to call my Ray, yet I couldn't see a polite way to leave the table.


 Finally, dinner started to draw to a close and Ray excused us from the
table, to my relief. I said my farewells to everyone. 

 As we walked away, I said, "Ray, I have to--" 

 "I gotta talk to you, Benny. In private." He hurried up the stairs. 

 Worried by the sound of his voice, I simply followed him, my request left
incomplete. 

 The restoration work on the house truly was magnificent. If I hadn't
known that so much of it had been utterly ablaze, I would never guess now
from the look or scent of it. Deja vu kept striking me, and I didn't know
whether I liked that. 

 Truthfully, I was trying to let the house distract me from worrying over
Ray's words of a few moments ago. He'd sounded almost desperate in his
desire to speak with me. In private. 

 As Ray closed the door of his room behind us, he said, "I feel like an
eight-year-old bringing one of my school friends over to play, but, hey, I
don't live here anymore, so Ma's head of the house. Not that she wasn't
always, really." 

 "Where do you live now, Ray?" 

 He sat on the neatly made bed and patted the space next to him. With some
trepidation, I sat close to him, feeling the mattress give a bit more
under our combined weight. Diefenbaker found a comfortable spot on the
floor and promptly fell asleep. 

 Once, I would have been thrilled to be so close to Ray in such intimate
surroundings. Thank God my feeling of deja vu didn't extend to this room,
which no longer contained much of his scent at all. It smelled more of
lemon polish and the slight mustiness of a recently closed room. 

 "With Stella. Finished moving into her place a week ago, actually." 

 I tried to be diplomatic. "That seems rather--" 

 "Fast, since we've just been going with one another for two months? Yeah,
but it felt right. And you need an iron will to say no to that woman once
she decides she wants something. That's why I asked to meet you here, in
the house. Stella...." Ray seemed to be looking for a polite way to phrase
his statement. 

 "I'm aware that she's not fond of me." I would have to keep the news of
their cohabitation from my own Ray, who might be devastated by it. He'd
finally come to accept that they were married and in Florida, then
returned home to discover that they were here and merely dating. Another
sudden turnaround couldn't do him any good. 

 My knowledge and acceptance of the situation seemed to provide Ray some
relief. "Yeah. I don't get it. I mean, all women everywhere love you...
unless they're lawyers. Or is this something about Stanley?" 

 "Ray." 

 "What?" 

 "He prefers to be called `Ray.'" 

 "Doesn't that get confusing?" 

 "I've haven't had many difficulties dealing with it over the time I've
known him." 

 "Is it about him?" 

 "Is what about him?" 

 Ray sighed. "I'm not playing Laurel and Hardy with you, Benny, so stop
stonewalling me. Is Stella pissed with you because of something with you
and her ex?" 

 I couldn't decide if "her ex" was better or worse than "Stanley." I
simply answered, "Actually, she seemed to dislike me from the first moment
she met me." As I watched how she treated Ray, the feeling became mutual. 

 "In Kowalski's presence." 

 "Yes. Are you implying something, Ray?" 

 "I'm feeling out the lay of the land here. So to speak." 

 "You wish to know how she feels about Ray?" 

 "Among other things." 

 "You could ask her." 

 "Oh, yeah, and she'll answer one, two, three because that's the Stella
way. Sure, Benny. Besides, I'm thinking maybe getting an answer from you
could tell me how she really feels as opposed to how she says or thinks
she feels. Got it?" 

 It took me a moment to follow the torturous statement, but I could
finally say, "Yes, I do. But what are the `other things'?" 

 "You know." 

 "No, I have to say that I don't know." 

 Ray shook his head. "I'm the one who told you to get your man. I just
didn't think you'd get him, take him to Canada, and never come back." 

 It was amazing how a man who could be so annoyingly and inappropriately
direct sometimes could be so opaque at other times. "I thought you meant
Muldoon." 

 "Him too. But mostly Stanley." 

 "He's Ray," I said automatically. 

 "Whatever. Anybody could see he was a mess over what was going on, and if
he made you happy, who was I to say anything against it? Just because I
don't swing that way myself and just because I'm not sure what you see in
him," Ray smiled to blunt the sting of that judgment, "doesn't mean I
can't be man enough to step out of the way of true love." 

 "Anybody" could see. Only I couldn't. And since when had he become "man
enough" not to be disturbed by my desires? 

 "But didn't I deserve a call of my own when you decided to stay in
Canada?" Ray asked. 

 "In retrospect, yes. I wasn't thinking at the time." 

 "You? Perish the thought." 

 "I should have called you. You did the same for me." 

 "Is this about me going undercover and not writing? You know I couldn't
do that. Mob heavies aren't stupid, you know, and I couldn't blow my
cover." 

 "Yes." But the timing had always struck me as suspicious. I'd confessed
my feelings for Ray, he'd told me he didn't feel the same kind of love but
would be "okay" with it, he'd behaved less than okay with it, I'd taken my
vacation to briefly escape the mess I'd made of our friendship, and then
I'd returned to find him replaced without a word. The chain remained too
neat. 

 "But you don't really believe it, not in your heart." 

 I didn't feel any resentment or hurt over it. I did not. He had an
assignment and did his duty. Commendable of him. That one postcard had
been the best he could do, not a slap in the face. I had no right to see
his assignment as another abandonment, and I did not neglect to call him
while I remained in Canada as a petty kind of vengeance. 

 I didn't. 

 "I do," I said. 

 "Do what?" 

 "Believe that. In my heart." 

 "Okay, Benny, but only because I know the Mounties will kick you out if
you lie." Ray looked down at the table, then back up at me. "Actually I
was fudging the truth a little." 

 "You, Ray? Never." 

 "Say that with a little less sarcasm. Yeah, I know why Stella dislikes
you, because she told me once after I shared my umpteenth Benny story with
her. At least I know the reason she gave me." 

 I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear this, so I tried to distract him.
"Benny story?" 

 "I have a lot of `em, okay? They mostly involve you ruining my clothes,
blowing up my car, or nearly getting me killed. Or all at once." 

 "Surely not." 

 "You try to keep believing that. Anyway, she told me that she worried
about all the dangerous and weird stuff you'd get Stanley into. She said
she'd hamstring me if I let myself get talked into any of it again. You
don't want to know what kind of look she had on her face when he called to
say he was staying in Canada with you. She said she's over him, but I
think she still loves the little punk; she just can't live with him. It
bothers me to know that she still loves him, but there's nothing I can do.
Besides, she's not with him; she's with me. Sometimes love is not enough."


 I tried not to think of my past with Victoria or him, but I heard some of
my feelings creep into my voice. "I know." 

 He looked up at me. "Shit. Sorry, Benny. I'm not thinking but my mouth is
running anyway. I just feel like I have so much backed up that I should
tell you, and it's all just flooding out. Nearly two years staying
buttoned up for fear of my life as the Bookman, and five minutes with you
has me with diarrhea of the mouth. It's not like I'm in a confessional or
something. I'm sorry. I'll shut up for a while." 

 "That... wasn't the most pleasant image." 

 "Try living with it." 

 "I want you to talk to me. Tell me what your life was like then, and what
it's like now." 

 "It's not at all pretty, Benny." 

 Both of my Rays seemed to think me too fragile to withstand even hearing
about the darker side of life. If they'd ever seen me from the inside....
"Please." 

 "Well, it was kind of a relief to get shot and pensioned. I don't think I
can be a cop anymore, ya know? When I was undercover... I had to do
things. Terrible things. I get nightmares sometimes I wouldn't wish on
anybody. I still can't get the Bookman out of my head. It's like he's dead
but he's still getting the last laugh. I don't tell the family, because
they wouldn't understand. Hell, I hope they never do. Me and Stanley
actually had a bonding moment about going undercover a few months back.
Well, we did after Frannie stopped us from decking one another." 

 "Ray...." I wanted to stop him. I wanted to touch him. I did neither,
simply letting him talk. I think he needed to. 

 "When I came back here, I took it out on Stan-- on Kowalski, and I know
it wasn't fair to him. I mean, even if he'd stepped right out of my way
and gave me my life back, even if you'd told me that we could just take up
right where we left off like nothing had ever happened, I still would've
been a mess. I can't remember the guy I used to be, Fraser. He's not there
anymore. So it just killed me that this guy who didn't look anything like
me was more me than I was and without even trying. Him having you didn't
help. Oh, God, Benny, get that look off your face. I didn't mean it like
that. I'm not gonna fight him for your hand or anything. I don't love you
like that. I just mean that he was where I used to be, and I knew I'd
never be there again, and it hurt like hell." 

 "I'm sorry." 

 "Nah, time happens, right? And Kowalski... he seems to be a stand-up guy.
Treated my family right, got the house fixed up, kept my cover for me,
stopped you from getting yourself killed on any of your crusades. I hope
things work out for you two." 

 So did I, and I wanted to know why Ray would phrase it that way. Did he
somehow see the cracks that had already marred my relationship with my
Ray? Was I so obvious, or did Ray just have a better knowledge of how I
could ruin things, seeing as he possessed a less subjective eye than my
own? 

 He had been there for my twisted relationship with Victoria.... 

 "`Things' between us are working well." It had always been easier to
successfully lie to my first Ray. Especially if you knew what he wanted to
hear. 

 "That's great. Great. So...." Ray shook his head. "I can't believe I'm
asking for this, but... how was your time up north?"  "A terrible thought
can have a terribly long career."  "Terrible Thought" by Poe   

 Ben should've been home by now. I checked the machine again, but it had
exactly the same hundred or so phone calls stored on it that had been
there this morning. Of course, Fraser doesn't call much. I was always
phone guy for the both of us. 

 He was probably fine. Up to his neck in trouble, but dealing with it just
fine. Or up to his neck in Vecchios and dealing just fine. Same thing.
He'd be home when he was home. But I couldn't sit here and just keep
worrying about him like this 

 I punched some numbers into my phone. "Ray, you up to going out dancing
tonight?" 

 "Just whip right past those time-wasting pleasantries," she said, but I
could feel her smile. "With how much time we did today, I figured you'd be
sick of me already." 

 "Never." 

 "So, yeah, sure." 

 "Fantastic. Give me a little time to dress, and I'll be right over." 

 "Look out, world. See ya soon, Ray."  

 I was actually humming to myself as I unlocked the door to my Ray's
apartment. The meet had ended far better than I'd expected. I still had a
friendship with Ray Vecchio. Not exactly like the one we'd once shared,
which would have been impossible anyway, but very real nonetheless. 

 He'd listened to me as I'd described our journey looking for the hand of
Franklin. Well, an abridged version of the journey, since some things
rightfully remained my and my Ray's secrets. 

 Amazingly enough, the knowledge that I had settled down with someone,
even if that someone was a man, seemed to ease Ray's mind about continuing
to be my friend. He no longer seemed to feel threatened by the feelings
I'd professed for him. I would have thought the fact that I'd bound myself
to his replacement would make him more uncomfortable instead of less so,
but who was I to turn away from a gift? Given his reaction to my initial
confession, it amazed me that he could accept the thought of me being in a
relationship with a man at all. 

 I did worry about him, though. I saw that the shadow of the Bookman's
personality and the things he'd done to maintain his cover still burdened
him. His uncertainty as to what path his life should take now that so much
had changed reminded me of my own Ray's. 

 Perhaps I could help. Ren, Mrs. Vecchio, and Ray's warmth today reminded
me that my time here had not been all bad by any means. Maybe I could stay
a while. 

 Dief raced into the apartment as soon as I had the door open. "Ray, I'm
home," I called, feeling a stab of guilt. He'd be worried that I'd been
gone so long; I could have called before I left the Vecchio household, but
my mind and heart had been too full from what I'd seen and heard. In any
case, I remembered my Ray's procrastination in checking the messages on
his machine. Yet that excuse assumed that he wouldn't be here when I
called, and I had no reason for that assumption. 

 Only silence answered. 

 "Ray?" 

 Checking the whole apartment showed no sign of my partner's presence. My
anxiety spiked when I saw that some of his holsters had been left on the
bed. I noticed that he'd oiled the leather and cleaned his guns. They were
all cool, long abandoned. But the pair of jeans and disreputable T-shirt
lying in a heap beside them still retained his warmth and scent. 

 My worry didn't abate when I finally found his note by the phone; it only
changed focus. I read, "Ben, I got antsy staying here alone so I went out
dancing with a friend. Be back after I wear myself down. Love you. Ray."
My finger smeared some of the ink on the B in my name, staining the paper
and my skin with smudges of vaguely iridescent black. I'd just missed him.


 My excitement turned to ash. This wasn't the way my homecoming was
supposed to be, not at all. 

 For weeks I'd been afraid of losing him. Was this the next big step
toward that? 

 And which friend had he gone with? I was afraid that I knew all too well.
 

 Dancing with Stella had always meant dress-up. Good jacket, shiny shoes,
sometimes black tie even. I didn't mind dress-up in a good cause, and it
always made Stel smile. Stella meant classy surroundings, a ballroom,
candlelight dinners, dancing together. 

 Dancing with Ray meant something black, formfitting, and comfortable. No
matter where she took me, I couldn't go wrong in a leather jacket, boots,
jeans, and a painted-on T. We'd end up in places that were so loud I
couldn't think, sometimes sitting at tables where people used the candles
to light their cigarettes. Ray knew all the DJs and got her requests in.
Sometimes we even went moshing, for God's sake, but only on nights when I
was really scared to bring myself home. I almost always came out feeling
purged of the badness. 

 Each night out was good in its own way, just different. 

 Tonight was an even better going out with Ray night than usual. When I
was married, I only did this if my schedule was way off from Stella's
and/or I was way too wired or dark or feral feeling to bring myself home,
subject her to me. Tonight, I wasn't too dark or feral, at least not in a
bad way, so I was just going out to be happier. 

 So I sat on Ray's couch dressed in my going-out-with-Ray gear and feeling
a cleaner version of that old excitement humming through my body. Going
out. Going out to move. 

 I couldn't stop smiling at nothing as Ray sang to herself while she got
dressed in the bathroom. She had to have a different song going in her
head than she had playing out here, because I vaguely heard her singing
something set with different timing that sounded like: "You don't care
that I'm just a / Punk girl doing it funky...." 

 She stopped to yell, "I've been bored out of my mind being on leave and
all, so I started cleaning the place. Found some stuff I haven't seen in
ages." She paused to sing an "Ooooh-ah" or three before continuing, "The
metal doesn't even look tarnished." 

 I yelled back, "Then model it for me already." When Ray came walking in
to "I Wanna Be Your Dog," turning and gesturing like a runway model, she
didn't look anything like I expected. "That's not cruising gear. What
about that short, plaid, Catholic schoolgirl skirt you used to wear
sometimes?" When she did that get-up she even used to wear the uniform tie
and shirt, untucked, with it. 

 "You're a perv, darlin'." 

 "What about the corset and vinyl pants?" 

 "All the Goth clubs with danceable music closed down since you last went
with me. The ones left just have people sitting at tables smoking and
drinking. Boring. So no laughing at the velvet, fishnet, and leather
crowd's dancing for you tonight." 

 Ray's clothing--a black and white striped long-sleeved top and black
stretch jeans--was formfitting but not tight. Kind of ordinary. They
weren't even leather pants. And what was up with the combat boots and
dogtags? The belt she'd mentioned was made up of huge, shiny silver rings
and black leather straps with slightly smaller silver rings dangling from
it. When she swayed her hips like a belly dancer, in time to the music,
the rings flew out during the motion. The red lipstick and black-lined and
silver-shadowed eyes were more like it, but still. 

 I shook my head. "I've seen you dressed to seduce, and that is not it."
But then I couldn't help grinning. "After all, I used to screen yer
boyfriends for ya." 

 "How can I forget? It was totally against my will, after all." 

 "Oh, is that why you were always trying to duck out?" 

 "I had to tell them you were a doll once you had your medication and
remind them that I had a gun too. It sucked." 

 "And after all my trouble." 

 "Yeah, you're a martyr. You know my lovelife went to hell after you
weren't around to scare the shit out of my dates anymore, right? Yeah, I
had more dates--many, many more dates--without you around but still...."
She was moving around in ways that deliberately made her belt rings swing.
It was like watching a little girl twirl in her new dress to make the
skirt bell out. "Anyway, I'm not going out with you tonight to pick up
somebody. Wouldn't be buddies if I wandered off and left you at the mercy
of your admirers when you're already taken." 

 "Cute." 

 "You draw people like a magnet when you're in love or in misery. Consider
me your bodyguard." 

 "You gonna follow me to the can too?" 

 "Will I have to?" 

 "Funny." 

 While I was in the bathroom, I sang along with the pumping-up music she
had the player blasting. Or at least I tried, which was rough since about
all I ever managed to make out from this one was: "Be my sister salvation
/ Juke-Joint Jezebel's coming for my cremation." Cheery stuff, but it had
a fast beat. 

 When I was done with my business, I noticed the makeup stuff she'd left
around the sink. Seeing Ray in her warpaint had given me an itch. I picked
up the eye pencil and started to line my own eyes. Jeez, I haven't done
this in ages. I remembered most of it, though, even if the line was too
thick and dark. I frowned at my reflection. 

 "You decent? I need something in there," she said through the door. 

 "Sure. C'mon in." 

 "Fuck, warn a girl when you're gonna do that," Ray said when she saw me.
"It made me wonder if it was my birthday or something. You're seriously
fucking hot like that. Your Fraser know how lucky he is?" 

 "Probably." I squinted, then smudged the line with my finger. Damn, too
much. I had a raccoon eye. Shit, it has been too long. 

 "Give over. Trust me not to poke your eyes out?" 

 "I'll kill ya if you do." 

 "I could just run while you're screaming like a girly-man and clutching
your eyes." 

 "This is yer apartment. I'd just wait for you to come back." 

 "You know everything, don't you, wise-ass?" 

 "Oh yeah, it's one of my charms." 

 Ray sighed, then went to work. She swiped the excess off with a pad, then
relined and smudged with her middle finger. It made me twitch having
something so close to my eyes, but she was gentle and careful. And they
ended up looking damned good. Hadn't done this with them since the `80s. 

 Ray talked all the while, which made the part about having her finger
almost in my eye easier to take. "Lucky you, you're just in time for the
summer movie season. Anything you wanna see?" 

 With her, natch. We'd to go see stuff, then talk it apart all the way
home. When we went out or did a video night with the gang, we used to
crack them up. They almost died that time we suggested a sit-com follow-up
to Aliens with Hicks, Ripley, and Newt as the family and Bishop's torso as
the wacky neighbor. "Haven't thought about it." 

 "I know this place with stadium seating, a giant screen, and THX. Even if
the plot of whatever-it-is sucks, it'll be nice eye and ear candy." 

 "You have my future all plotted out for me?" 

 "Nah. Not like it's an order I'm giving you or anything. I'm just
asking." 

 "I know. You can't ask things like normal people do." 

 She stuck her tongue out at me. "I missed you. Of course, I'm missing you
less the more you open your mouth." 

 "I don't know what I'm doing." 

 "Tell me something I don't know." 

 "Brat." 

 "Don't know how long you're in town? I get that." 

 "No, I don't know what I'm doing at all. Don't know where I'm going, what
I wanna be when I grow up.... None of it." 

 "Existential crisis?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "I'm all over that." She shifted topics a few seconds before I tried to
change the subject. "Fraser's kind of cute in an intense, too-serious kind
of way. Not my type, though. He another one of your Hitchcock blon-- Never
mind." 

 Right onto what sounded like another bad subject. "Hunh?" 

 "Nah. Just running my mouth without my brain." 

 "Like that's news. Give." 

 "Nope. It was dumb. Besides, we have to get going, y'know?" She put on
one of her leather blazers and handed me my jacket. 

 "No problem. How do you sit down in that belt?" I asked as I pulled on
one of the big rings dangling from it. 

 She smirked. "Very carefully."  

 The club couldn't possibly be any more different from the Territories. It
had people wall to wall. You could hear them, feel them, smell them. They
raised the heat in the room. Sweat, adrenaline, cigarette smoke, perfumes,
pheromones, vinyl, leather, and the bitter scent of stage fog all battled
in my nose for attention. The loud music made it hard to think, while the
bass shook me down to my atomic structure. Nothing too hardcore though,
since Ray demanded music that had a melody and no more than a few hundred
beats per minute or something, which made her almost as old fogeyish as I
was. The lights half blinded me, though they painted pretty colors, while
the strobe light flashed off the white stripes on Ray's shirt. Everything
here was man-made. 

 Here, nothing would kill me for a moment of being careless. 

 And we danced, danced so hard that I started to get dizzy and the
dizziness made my next moves for me. Ray knew the songs and shouted the
lyrics, grinning so hard her head should have cracked open. We just moved
any way we felt like, and the people around us started to clear a space.
Probably had less to do with how good we looked than with how much space
we used. 

 I was happy, happy in a way I hadn't been in a good, long time.
Uncomplicated happy. Been a while since I could cut loose like this and
just move. 

 I wondered if Ben would like this place. I could see him waltzing in more
sedate surroundings, easy, but all the people, smells, lights, and noise
packed in so tight here might freak him out. This wherever Ray had taken
me to made Warfield's little club look like a lounge in the boonies. Worth
a try, though. I wanted Ben to see this me too. 

 All the cleared space gave me ideas. "Ray, you wanna kick it old school?"
I shouted into her ear. 

 As expected, she almost died laughing. "Get down with your bad self, Ray!
Hell yeah." 

 I took her hand in mine and started to really dance, twirling her, even
dipping her when I felt like it. Whooping, she spun faster and faster in a
spray of flying black hair, dogtags, earrings, and metal belt links,
giving more of an impression of leashed strength than Stel ever did, but
Stella had always been going just for graceful. Ray and I were going for
Olympic, even as I wondered how someone could move so lightly in combat
boots. The varying pressure of her fingers on mine gave me cues on when
and how to move her, since she knew most of the songs. I didn't know if I
spun her or she spun me. Just uncomplicated happiness.	

 I tried not to wonder where Ray was. Or with whom. He should have been
home by now. I didn't know if I'd find it more or less reassuring to think
that something terrible had kept him from coming back, and that scared me.
What kind of person was I that some selfish part of me would prefer to
think he'd been in a car accident or something equally as dire than that
he was having a good time with someone else? Only a sick person would
think such things. 

 But that didn't stop the thoughts. 

 I was being unfair. He'd left a note.... 

 Dief whined at me. Perhaps he wondered where Ray was. Perhaps he wondered
why I was sitting here in the dark. I couldn't tell this time, and how
could I answer any of his questions when I didn't know anything myself? 

 I continued to sit in the dark.  

 Ray bounced as she walked. "How many more blocks to the car?" 

 I looked around. The club was in the meatpacking district, which meant
that most of the buildings looked the same. "Seven, I think." 

 My body still vibrated, and my ears rang. I pulled my jacket tighter
around me, the cool night air making me shiver under my sweat-soaked
shirt, but I couldn't do anything about the cold flowing through the
sweaty roots of my hair. All marks of a successful night. 

 I shoved my hands into my pockets and hunched a little. This was the
first time I felt cold since I left Canada. 

 "We're parked in another country." Ray shook her head. "God, I can't
believe Patrick's gone." 

 "What's the name of the kid who was spinning tonight instead? DJ
Earthworm?" 

 "I think it was DJ Millipede." 

 "DJ Creepy Crawly." 

 Ray snorted. "He was pretty though." 

 "If you like bleached blond hair." 

 She ruffled mine. "Pot and kettle here. Heeey, nice. Whatever you used
didn't damage it much. It's still pretty soft. Only a tad crispy." 

 "Thank you. Oh yeah, and the kid's at least ten years younger than you." 

 "Shit, yeah. I think I have pit scars older than him." 

 "N-- Actually, I think you might." 

 "I feel like such a dirty old woman. It's not fair. But him playing some
Chemlab for me made me feel better." She happily sang a little,
punctuating the last line with stabbing hand motions. "Get down on your
knees / If you wanna touch the sky / If you wanna see clearly now / You
better poke, poke, poke out your eyes...." 

 "He was checking you out. I think he was up for some Mrs. Robinson
action." 

 "Kill me now." 

 "Cheer up. With yer looks, he probably thinks yer in yer early to middle
twenties." 

 "Flatterer. I'd probably have to arrest him for possession too, since I
was getting a contact high just standing near him. How much weed d'ya
think he'd have to smoke to be that dim so early in life?" 

 "Tons. Then again, he might not have been a rocket scientist to begin
with." 

 "Yeah. But, hey, I wouldn't keep him around to talk to, anyway." 

 I almost choked. "Damn. Congratulations, Ray; yer a guy." 

 "Wow. I never thought it was that easy. I figured other stuff was needed.
Like, oh, equipment, y'know?" 

 "You deserve better than some vapid kid with a habit. You should have a
guy who'd want to lay the world at yer feet." 

 "Whereas most of the guys I meet just want to lay the world." 

 "You need to have yer mouth washed out with soap. You know that, right?" 

 "I need my mouth washed out with something, because I'm dying of thirst.
You hungry, hoss? We could do a night-owl special at the Michigan, just
like old times." 

 "Famished." It did feel late. I checked my watch. Holy shit. "Can't.
Ben's gonna think somebody murdered me on my way home as is. Damn. Gotta
call him. What's that smirk about?" 

 "I forgot how cute you get when you're in love. Like one of those
big-eyed baby seals before the club hits." 

 "Bite me." 

 "Any place in particular?" 

 As I punched my home number through my cell phone, I said, "If you
checked in this carefully too, way back when, maybe you wouldn't be on yer
way to spinsterhood." 

 "Me-ow." 

 To my total surprise, no one picked up the phone. My message came on, the
one I hadn't gotten a chance to change before I left for Canada: "Hi, this
is Ray Vecchio. I hate these machines too but bear with me here. I can't
come to the phone right now, but if you leave yer information and stuff
after the beep I'll get back to you, okay? Thanks." The beep went on
forever, letting me know that I better go through my messages tomorrow.
"Hey, Ben, I know it's late but I lost track of time. Sorry, guy. I'm on
my way now. Love you." 

 It left me worried. I mean, it was 3 freaking a.m. and he was the "early
to bed, early to rise" type as long as he didn't have me there corrupting
him. Maybe he was asleep, but I didn't think so. And I kept my answering
machine set pretty loud in case I needed a wake-up call in the morning.
The way no one picked up the phone suggested that he was still out. With
Vecchio? 

 They were friends; they had stuff to catch up on.... 

 I wasn't jealous of Vecchio, not anymore, and I trusted Ben. I just
worried. Vecchio hurt him pretty badly from what I'd been able to figure,
and Ben never could protect himself from the people he loved even when
they had a history of stomping his heart into the ground. 

 Actually, I didn't know what I thought. I just worried. 

 I was being stupid. Just because we didn't leave one another's sight for
most of two months didn't mean we stopped being able to survive alone. We
were both big boys. I needed a little space; maybe he did too. His day out
alone today suggested that. It made so much sense that I could feel my
energy spiking up again. We were good. 

 "I'm sure he's fine," Ray said. 

 "Yeah, I know. Race ya to the car." I took off. 

 "You are so dead!" she shouted from way behind me.  "Raven's
preoccupation is hunger."  John Bierhorst, The Mythology of North America 
 

 I heard Ray outside the door, singing quietly. And not alone. "Twenty
twenty twenty-four hours ago / I wanna be sedated / Nothing to do, nowhere
to gooooo-whoa / I wanna be--" It continued until they opened the door,
flipped the light on, and saw me sitting there staring at them. They
stopped mid-song and midbounce. 

 Ray and Walker, a matched set, both nearly incandescent, stood there
sparking with an energy I hadn't seen in my Ray for too long a time. His
crooked grin should have warmed me. "Hey, Ben. You and Vecchio have a good
chat?" 

 "Yes." 

 Confusion fluttered through his eyes at my terse answer, but he simply
shook his head and closed the door behind them. 

 "Good, uh, morning, Fraser," Walker said. She sounded casual. 

 "Walker." I didn't succeed in sounding the same, and a flicker in her
eyes suggested she'd noticed. 

 Ray seemed oblivious to our staring match. On his way to the kitchenette
he gave me a quick but enthusiastic kiss, overwhelming me with the mingled
scents of clean sweat, cigarette smoke, alcohol, aftershave, bleach, and
peppermint gum. He wore clothing that better outlined his sleek shape, and
the black made him seem even taller somehow. Knowing that we had unwanted
company, I resisted the urge to grab him and sit him on my lap but only
with great difficulty. I hungrily watched the slinky sway and bounce of
his rolling walk--how he could do all of that at once I would never
know--as he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and downed a
deep gulp of it. His eyes closed, his neck stretched back, he savored it
so blatantly that it struck me as erotic. 

 He was and looked... incredible. Very different from the man I'd left not
so many hours before. He'd bleached his hair to a paler blond than I'd
ever seen it before and had it cut, with the closely shorn hair at the
back of his head drawing my eye and desire with all the strength of
gravity. I wanted, needed, to run my fingers over the fuzz at the nape of
his neck. He'd spiked the top the way he used to. His hair, his bounce,
his loose-limbed grace, his cocky smile... all signs of the Ray I'd first
fallen in love with while in Chicago, a Ray I'd seen precious little of in
Canada. 

 But his eyes looked different, more prominent. For whatever reason, he'd
softly lined them with black kohl. 

 This was Ray, but more Ray somehow, stronger and jolting. 

 The steadily increasing lust coursing through me almost overwhelmed the
unreasoning anger I felt. Almost. The two twined and mated in unholy ways.


 He looked happy now. Happy here. Happy with her. Comparing how he seemed
now with his happiness on arriving back home would be like comparing the
sun to a candle flame. Walker had effortlessly brought him back to life
after all my failures. 

 He handed the bottle off to her. "Now will you drink something? Five
dollars ain't that bad when the alternative is total dehydration, ya
know." 

 "Five dollars for water? Get real. And the sink water wasn't half-bad.
But thanks." Walker took it from him and took a deep gulp of her own, her
kohled eyelids--Had Ray borrowed her pencil to line his own?--closing as
she savored it. Off the same bottle he had just used. Her slickly red lips
greedily closing around the mouth of it exactly as his lips just had.... 

 "Please get out, Walker," I said, grinding the words out. 

 "Huh?" 

 I took in her makeup, tight clothing, silver jewelry and belt, all
completely unlike the tomboy I'd first met. She had made herself over for
seduction, and I couldn't believe that my Ray wouldn't see her invitation,
her obvious beauty. I couldn't believe that he wouldn't know. So he must
know. And approve. 

 They were a matched set. "Get out now." 

 "What is this, Ben?" Ray asked, looking confused. 

 Walker looked at me, and her dark eyes once again seemed to have my Ray's
kind of understanding, seemed to know what I was thinking, even if she
didn't approve of it. It made me hate her even more. 

 "It's okay, Ray," she said. "I'm out of here." 

 "No, stay. This is my home; yer my friend. Ya don't have to leave unless
I say so." 

 "I want her to leave, Ray." 

 "I want her to stay. I invited her in." 

 "And why did you do that?" 

 "She's a friend of mine; she was thirsty-- Since when do I haveta justify
everything to you?" 

 I smiled as I heard the door close. "Now it doesn't matter." 

 "Like hell it doesn't! She's a friend of mine, and you treated her like
shit. She just took me out dancing, dammit!" 

 "Is that all it was?" 

 Ray looked as if I'd gut-punched him. "Is that what this is about? Jesus,
the moment I'm not in yer presence I'm out betraying you with somebody?
You must not think a hell of a lot of me if you could think that, Ben.
What is it? Is it because she's pretty? She's not my type generally, and
nobody's my type at all except you when I'm involved with you. Would it
make you feel better if I put a bag over her head before going anywhere
with her? Or is it just that I'm not allowed to go anywhere with anybody?"
He was leaning in close to me, furious, vitally alive, the Ray I loved and
needed. I wanted to grab him. "Other people, Ben. Just because we were all
alone for weeks doesn't mean I can fucking live that way for the rest of
my life. There's gonna be other people around us all the time; are you
gonna be thinking I'm fucking every one of them when yer not there? So
it's not that you have a fucking leash on me; it's that you have yer fist
knotted in my fucking collar?" 

 I couldn't answer him. His talk of leashes and collars reminded me of a
dream I'd had weeks ago, of an unhappily owned Ray ripping my throat out.
It didn't matter now, not in the face of my anger, fear, and lust. I
grabbed him at last and crushed him to me, devouring the mouth that had
been spitting invective at me only moments before. 

 Ray struggled only a little before devouring me right back, nipping my
skin and ripping at my clothing, as hard against me as I was against him.
I missed being able to knot my fist in his hair to hold him to me, but the
fuzz on the back of his skull seemed to caress my hand back with a
thousand tiny fingers. His skin threw off heat and power, as if being back
in Chicago had plugged him back into his life source. I hadn't even
realized I'd missed this Ray, hadn't noticed when he'd gone. 

 I backed him into the wall and rubbed against him, my own angry
enthusiasm hampering my efforts to unbutton his jeans. I needed him. Now.
And it didn't matter at all that I didn't want to do this with him this
way. Not when love and honest passion were overwhelmed by my need to
reaffirm my hold on him and show my power over him. 

 Over the pounding of my blood I could almost hear a banging behind us, as
if something struck the window repeatedly. I felt Ray's hands clench
against my chest, then flatten... trying to push me away. It only enflamed
me more and made me tighten my grip on him. But the banging became louder
and louder until I glanced in that direction and thought I saw a large
black bird beating itself against the glass. In my moment of distraction
and horror, something hooked my ankle and knocked me backward to the
floor. Ray disengaged himself from my grip before I could drag him down
with me. 

 "What the hell was that about?" Ray panted. "You get off on this?" He
sounded disgusted. 

 "Ray...." 

 "No. No, I do not have to put up with this." 

 I looked at his reddened lips, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the
obvious arousal swelling his jeans. "You want this." 

 "Sick...." I watched his hands spin and fly--clenching into fists,
unclenching--over and over as he started to back toward the door. "I'm
going out." 

 "What?" 

 "I'm going back out," Ray snarled at me. "If I stay here, I'm gonna end
up hitting you, and I swore I wouldn't ever do that again." He opened the
door and slammed it behind him. 

 "Ray!" The panic almost choked me. I couldn't let him go. I had to make
this right. When I reached the hallway, I saw the door to the stairs swing
shut. 

 Without needing even a moment to think about it, I ran after him. I
needed to make things right. I needed to make him understand.... 

 I needed to catch him before he left me like everyone else in my life
did.  

 I didn't have the patience to wait for the fucking elevator. I had to get
away, and I figured he'd follow me. I might as well make it harder on him.
What the hell was wrong with him? 

 How far would he have gone if I hadn't stopped him? 

 I raced down the steps, skipping two, three, four, a whole flight on my
way down. Heart pounding, blood racing, caught up in the chase, I flew
like gravity meant nothing. I couldn't let him catch me. If he caught up
with me... well, I didn't know what would happen, just that it would be
bad. 

 As I ran down the hall to the door, I punched the numbers on my cell
phone so hard I should have broken it. And who the hell did he think he
was, telling me who I could and couldn't associate with? Ray asked,
"Hello?" 

 "You still up for the Michigan?" 

 "Yeah. Yeah. I'll meet you there. You okay?" 

 "Fine. See you in a bit." I turned off the phone and clipped it back onto
my belt. She lived a block away from the Michigan, so she had plenty of
time to get presentable. 

 When I reached my car, I noticed the familiar big fucking bird sitting on
its roof, glossy black on shiny black. "If you ruin the paint job, I will
wring your fucking neck." Even more than usual, I didn't have time for
this. 

 "Ingrate. I see that coming home hasn't changed that," One for Sorrow
said. 

 I threw myself into the car and slammed the door. But One for Sorrow
already sat in the passenger seat. "What do I have to be grateful about?"
I asked. 

 "You're alive." 

 "I'm miserable." 

 "Which proves you're alive. Oh, I have something funny to tell you. Well,
I think it's funny." 

 I peeled out of my parking spot. "Go to hell." I saw a blur of motion in
my rearview that could have been Ben reaching the sidewalk. I made the
turn and pumped the gas harder. 

 "You partner made a deal with me in one of his dreams. If he kept you
happy, I'd leave you alone. If not...." 

 "Yer lying through yer beak. Nobody'd be stupid enough to agree to that."


 "He would if he didn't realize he was making a deal." 

 "Lemme get this straight. You visited him in a dream--" 

 "He wouldn't listen to me awake." 

 "--and fucking tricked him into giving you carte blanche on me?" 

 "Language, hatchling." 

 Hearing Ben's tone in his voice made me hit the brakes, throw the shift
into Park, put my hands around its neck, and start to squeeze and shake
it. "You son of a bitch!" It made a harsh gargling sound and tried to peck
at my fingers, but I was too fast and too enraged for it to succeed.
"Here's the deal, and you take it or I'll wring your neck. You stop
bothering me or my partner or the half-wolf or anybody else I've ever
known or met. You don't do anything to us, you don't show yerself, you
don't talk to us while we're waking or sleeping." I let up a little
pressure so it could talk. 

 "You have no idea what kind of power you're toying with." 

 "I'm desperate, and you don't wanna know what I'm capable of when I'm
desperate." 

 "You don't understand what we are to one another, you and I." 

 "And since you're not ever gonna tell me, why should I give a fuck?" 

 "Have you given any thought to the fact that it looks like you're talking
to and strangling air?" 

 "You given any thought to the fact that I don't give a damn anymore?" 

 "I can't promise not to cross paths with any of the people you've ever
seen in your whole, miserable life!" 

 "I don't want to narrow it down too much. I'm told," I shook it again for
good measure, feeling silky feathers pull away a little under my fingers,
"that you have a habit of turning a deal around to bite people in the ass.
I'm told that the wording is significant." 

 "Your partner is catching up. Can you really afford to sit here?" 

 "This is too important to let slide. Besides, seeing me strangling air
might set him back a bit." I squeezed again. 

 One for Sorrow let out a panicked sounding squawk. "All right! I agree!" 

 "Yeah, you tell me what you're agreeing to." 

 "I stop bothering you, your partner, the half-wolf, or anyone else you've
ever known or met. I don't do anything to you or show myself or talk to
you and yours while you're waking or sleeping. Though I might show again
if you ask me nicely enough." 

 "Dream on." 

 "Are you satisfied?" 

 "I'm never satisfied, but this'll do." I let go. 

 It preened itself in a small whirlwind of flying beak and wings, trying
to get its feathers back in order. "It's not like I have to be personally
involved, since you and your partner are doing a fine job messing your
lives up on your own." 

 "Get out of my car!" 

 The passenger door opened by itself. The bird was fucking with my car. My
car, the one I helped put together with my dad. The door shut again by
itself, hard. One for Sorrow looked at me for a moment and made an odd
clicking noise before the door opened again and it flew out. Then the door
slammed shut. I refused to let it spook me. 

 What I did let spook me was seeing in the rearview that Ben was running
up on me. I didn't know what I'd do if he caught me, so I floored the gas
pedal, whooping at the instant burst of power and speed. The times Ben'd
let me drive the dogsled had been a kick, but nothing could beat this. The
GTO roared with joy at being let loose to run. 

 Ben managed to keep up somehow, not gaining but not dropping too far
behind either. Stubborn bastard. He forced me to get creative. Using my
knowledge of Chicago's byways, I ran a high-speed obstacle course through
alleys and around turns. I skipped through stop signs and a red light here
and there when I saw it was safe, it being about 3:30 a.m. The Fraser
voice in my head chided me for the speeding and law breaking, but that
only made it sweeter. 

 It took me ten white-knuckled-grip-on-the-wheel minutes to lose him. It
took me another five to convince myself I'd done it. Once my heart stopped
pounding, I slowed down and started driving to the Michigan Diner. 

 After the great chase, I had time to think and had worked up a slow boil
over the thoughts that came up. And not just about Ben, either. Still, I
put a smile on my face as I saw Mr. and Mrs. Nemesanyi talking Ray up in
her booth. They greeted me like the prodigal son, which I kind of was to
them. "Ray! Where have you been keeping yourself?" Mr. Nemesanyi said as
Mrs. Nemesanyi hugged me. 

 "Busy with work. I really couldn't get here," I answered. 

 "That's no excuse." They dragged me away from the table a bit and
whispered. "Do you have somebody yet? You and Rachel make such a beautiful
couple." 

 In the background, Ray pantomimed hanging herself, eyes bulging, tongue
all the way out, head to the side, hand in a fist overhead "holding the
noose." Amazing how far to the side her head could fall. Flexibility,
maybe. 

 "I do have someone, and it's not Ray." 

 "Ah well, as long as you're happy. And dessert is on us tonight." 

 "Thanks." 

 "Enjoy." They left me then, but they kept glancing back, maybe hoping
that love would bloom. 

 It helped me work up a good mad again, but Ray's outfit made it hard all
over again. The black cowboy hat was one thing, but her black suede
fringed jacket with silver medallions was so `80s and faux Wild West all
at once that I had to stop my lips from making me smile. But she looked
good in it. 

 "I'm airing out the blazer I went dancing in. Besides, in about three
years this may be in again." She grinned and tried not to be too obvious
in checking me out for injuries. We'd both done those domestic disturbance
visits at some time in our careers. 

 It helped me find my anger again so I could ask, "You were gonna say
`Hitchcock blonde,' weren't ya?" 

 Her smile faded. "What?" 

 "Before we left for the club. You didn't finish it. I remember you
referring to Stella as that once or twice. You mean that cool, distant,
beautiful, untouchable type you put up on a pedestal but who ends up
falling off it because nobody can live up on a pedestal? And the person
who wants them ends up hating them for that?" 

 "Yeah." 

 "Yer saying that Stella and Ben belong to that group." 

 "I didn't say anything at the time, and I'm not saying anything now." 

 "`Course not. Yer just sitting back silent after dropping that stone into
the pool waiting for me to connect the dots. And, yeah, I know that was
one hell of a mixed metaphor. Can't anybody just say what they mean?" 

 "Sorry. I was going to say something then but decided the last thing you
needed was me horning in on your lovelife." 

 "Bullshit." 

 "Look, I don't know how passive-aggressive the people you hang with these
days are, but I'm not one of them. I got a little too comfortable and
started to say something that was none of my business. I'm sorry I got as
far into it as I did." 

 "But you think that." When she didn't answer that, I said, "You do think
that." 

 "You know what I think." 

 "Yeah. Yeah, I do." 

 She sighed and dragged me down into the seat next to her. "I wasn't going
to say anything." Her voice dropped a bit; she was giving some thought as
to whether I wanted to be outed to Mr. and Mrs. Nemesanyi even if I was
too upset to think about it. "I mean, you are so obviously in love with
this guy.... And I might be biased seeing as how he totally hates me." 

 He hadn't even given her a chance. That had to be a once in a lifetime
thing for him. And I lowered my own voice, partly from how I was feeling
and partly from the thought of being overheard. I always could count on
Ray to watch my back. "Yeah. But then tonight happened. Ray, he's not like
that usually." 

 "That's good; I figure you have more self-esteem than to take that all
the time." 

 And she hadn't even been around when he grabbed me. I stood up and sat
down in the seat across from her. 

 "Yeah, I do. I didn't expect any of that. It's not like him." I ran my
hand through my hair. I needed to lighten things up, but I was still so
angry.... "I dunno what he expected me to do while he was out with
Vecchio. Was I supposed to stay home and vacuum in my pumps and pearls?" 

 Ray nearly choked. Once she recovered, she said, "Warn a person first!
Jeez. Y'know, something like, `Ray, I'm gonna say something that'll make
you spray Sprite out yer nose.' First the eyeliner, now this. I don't
think my heart can take it." 

 And I still had the eyeliner on, which was probably so smudged now that I
looked like I was sporting two black eyes. Weird that Mr. and Mrs.
Nemesanyi hadn't said anything, but maybe they were just too happy to see
me to bring it up. Hell, Ray didn't even have makeup on anymore; she was
all clean-scrubbed, obviously fresh from what must have been a fast
shower. 

 I felt strangely dangerous. At the same time I felt like I wasn't
tethered down to anything. Terror and freedom. I'd been doing the extremes
of everything lately. 

 I leaned forward and gave Ray my darkest grin. "Was it the pearls or the
pumps that did it for ya?" 

 "The combination, you perv." 

 "But somehow I'm the perv here. And I'm getting images of yer sex life
that scare me." I glanced at the closed menu. "We gonna keep the tradition
going here?" 

 "Hell, yeah." 

 Mrs. Nemesanyi showed up at our side like magic, which wasn't surprising
since we were the only customers. I said, "The fiesta nacho plate for two.
And get me a Sprite to match hers. Thanks." Once she left with our order,
I felt my good spirits start to plummet again. Shit, emotional roller
coaster night. "I don't know what I'm gonna do, Ray. He wasn't like this
in Canada, but I... don't think I can go back there." There it was. I'd
said it. I hadn't even had the thought completed in my head until it came
out. "I dunno. Canada hated me way before I started to hate it back. Any
mistake up there in the Territories can kill you. I spent so much time
being nervous that I'd do something stupid that could finish us off that
my stomach went bad. Could barely eat, not that ya really want to,
considering the selection. Every day it's all extremes: terror or boredom,
feast or famine. Snow and snow and snow. You're totally alone in yer head,
unless yer not, in which case yer going crazy." 

 Yeah, you could talk to giant birds that want your soul or your misery or
both and threaten your life in the process. I wondered what Ray would
think of One for Sorrow, but that would take me so far off the main topic
I didn't know if I'd ever get back. The raven could keep. 

 Once she realized that I wasn't going to continue, Ray said, "That sounds
really hard." Encouraging me to go on if I wanted to. 

 "The little towns are hell in their own way. Everybody knows everybody
and have for most of their lives. When they talk, they make references
that they don't bother explaining because everybody was around that winter
in `94 when the bear walked into the bar, and they've heard it a thousand
times before, because so little happens that any event gets talked into
the ground for years before they let it go. And they stared at me, as rude
as you could get. Spent two days in this tiny town before we got on the
plane, and I got into fights almost every time Ben wasn't around, and I
don't know if they really were challenging me or if I was so defensive it
only felt like they were. Up there, everything I know is wrong, my
judgment is off." 

 "But?" 

 "But Ben loves it out there. It's his home, and there are parts of him he
shows up there that I never would have found out about if we'd stayed in
Chicago." I put my face in my hands. "Maybe summer would be easier. I
could try it in the summer." I glanced up to see Ray looking at me with a
blank expression, trying not to influence me, but I read what I was
thinking on her face. "Yeah, right. You know what I miss about Canada?
Nothing. Well, I miss Santa's Little Helpers--my team of sled dogs--but
they weren't even mine anyway. They were loaner dogs. Maybe I was supposed
to find my inner mountain man, but it didn't happen. Chicago might not be
the-hills-are-alive-with-the-sound-of-music happy for me everyday, but I'm
me here. This is my natural habitat. Or at least the city environment is.
The only `reaching out hand' I found in Canada was Ben's. Some of the
time. I have to put my foot down on this, at least a bit. Tell him." I
shook my head at her. "Yer just letting me talk." 

 "Maybe you need to. Besides, I'm the chick who once had a boyfriend break
up with my machine while I was laid up in the hospital with a gunshot
wound, so that shows how good my judgment is on love stuff." 

 Oh, yeah. Jeffrey Calissano, who knew she was a cop but hadn't really
twigged to it until she got shot. Then he ran like a weasel. I almost
broke his jaw for it. Ray had yelled at me for 45 minutes over
that--saying she didn't need some hotheaded, testosterone-fueled defender;
she could take care of herself--then gave me a peck on the cheek to show
me we were good and she kind of appreciated the gesture. I mean, I only
really did it because she'd been too injured to do it herself. 

 I wonder if he's still getting all those parking tickets. Cops don't like
it when one of their own gets dumped on, especially when it's for being a
cop. 

 "True." 

 "The fact that I can't even pretend I'm objective figures in here
somewhere too, I'm sure." Ray shook her head. "What are you gonna do?" 

 "Dunno yet. But I love him, Ray. I wanna be with him, even when he's
being a jerk. Not that I don't intend to stop him from being a jerk, but
you know what I mean. I love him, and love means compromise, but I don't
know how much compromise would be healthy for either of us. Or for the
both of us." 

 She didn't say anything about how I'd compromised for Stella, or that
she'd been tossed away on one of those compromises. She knew she didn't
have to. 

 And people thought we couldn't be subtle. 

 I pulled out my phone. "Damn, I have to talk to Ben." 

 "You ready for that?" 

 "I'm cooler now." 

 "You think he is?" 

 "Cooler than he'd be if he had to search the city for me." Damn. That
didn't sound good even to me. The expression on Ray's face was interesting
too. "You don't think this is a good idea." 

 "I don't know, all right? I don't know him." 

 "And what you have seen is him as a possessive asshole." 

 "Your words, Ray." 

 I looked down at my phone. "Shit. I dunno."  

 My breath burned through my lungs and my legs shook a little as I opened
the door to Ray's apartment. Damn, but he'd given me a good run. Under all
my anger, especially at the way he'd once stopped the car long enough to
let me nearly catch up before driving off again, I couldn't help feeling a
certain grudging admiration for his skill in losing me. Few people could
outpace me, then cover over the trail so thoroughly. Our two months in the
Yukon, where he'd been dependent on me for his very life, had made me
forget what a wily creature Ray could be on his own terrain. He'd made the
GTO move and turn corners as if it had been an extension of his own body. 

 He'd also broken maybe 20 different traffic laws but never in a way that
threatened anyone's life, not at this time of night. 

 All of that only increased my love and my mind-clouding lust for him. 

 I had to clear my head. Once I brainstormed a list of the places Ray
might go, I could form a plan of attack. Checking every single one would
surely lead me to him. I would find him. 

 I half expected my father to appear; he rarely missed a chance to
lambaste me for my own shortcomings or stupid actions. Then I remembered
that he had gone on to the other side, that I would never see him again.
Ever. I was alone. 

 Utterly alone. 

 Dief trotted up to me and whined, wondering where Ray was. All right
then, I wasn't completely alone. 

 Not knowing what I could tell him, I said nothing. Ray had lost me. But
he had to return here eventually; it was his home, after all. He had to. 

 As I poured myself a glass of water, I noticed that Ray's answering
machine had one more message on it than it had earlier. It might not be
from him. Then again.... I told my heart to slow down and cease wallowing
in stupid hopes. 

 Unfortunately, Ray's machine lacked a fast forward function, so I would
have to listen to all of the messages. I would pay no attention to the
others; it wouldn't be right. 

 I sat through hang-ups, wrong numbers, telemarketers, and members of
Ray's 23rd district asking when he was coming back until Ray's mother's
voice came out. "I know that you'd call if you came home, but I just
needed to hear your voice, even if it is on one of these silly machines. I
love you, and I miss you.... I'll go now. Don't let me worry you.
Goodbye." 

 The pain in her voice staggered me, made me remember with desperate
longing the fleeting image of my own mother I'd seen in the mineshaft. The
panic in Mrs. Kowalski's voice four messages later made me feel worse.
"Stanley? I know something's wrong. I know calling here won't do you any
good if you're in Canada, but I feel like you're in trouble. Please
contact me. Somehow. Please...." 

 His machine didn't have a time and date function, so I was left wondering
if this call had come at the time Ray's trouble in the Northwest
Territories had started. A similar panicked message from her followed one
message later. It made me wonder just what Ray and his mother had
discussed in the kitchen yesterday. 

 My heart heavy, I couldn't help hearing a different spin on Ray's message
from earlier as it came on. "Hey, Ben, I know it's late but I lost track
of time. Sorry, guy. I'm on my way now. Love you." He sounded apologetic,
and he'd called, which was more than I'd done for him. Yet he didn't sound
guilty. He'd come home expecting a light chiding for being out late, not
the accusations and display of possessive jealousy I'd treated him to
instead. He hadn't known my fears. 

 The last message started to play. "We need to talk, Ben." God, he sounded
tired. "I'm at the Michigan Diner right now. Or the diner they call
Michigan. With Ray Walker, so you can't accuse me of keeping secrets or...
or something. We're here as friends, just like we went out dancing as
friends, just like I brought her to the apartment as friends." I clamped
down on my anger. I had to hear this message. "We're eating nachos, which
have to be one of the least sexiest foods out there. I mean, the sour
cream, cheese, and jalopeno peppers equal frightening breath, and they're
messy as all hell, okay? Can't eat the damned things without looking like
a total slob. Shit, I'm assuming you'll look at the damned machine....
Show up if you hear this." I heard him take a deep breath. "I love you,
but tonight is not going to be the way things are between us, do ya get
that? We need to talk." The message ended. 

 The Michigan Diner? Disheartening that I would never have put that on my
list. I hadn't even known about it. How many other things didn't I know? 

 I quickly found the address in the phone book and ran for the door with
Diefenbaker at my heels. I tried not to think. Or feel anything. 

 Once I reached the street, I paced myself at a light jog, with
Diefenbaker at my side. If I thought about the message or how Ray would
react when I arrived, I would only upset myself, so I merely concentrated
on my directions and the feel of putting one foot before the other,
breathing in Chicago's slightly less toxic night air. Successfully
entranced, I reached my destination in what seemed like seconds, although
I felt the miles in my legs and lungs. 

 White light seemed to pour out into the street from the diner's windows.
The Michigan Diner had the train car design once common to such eateries.
Its metal and glass had a dull gleam under the streetlights, and neon
emphasized its rounded lines as well as spelling out its name. 

 My Ray and Walker were its only customers at this time, and they sat in
the last booth, with Walker's back to the wall. I drained myself of any
betraying emotions before I opened the door, letting Diefenbaker in first.
The couple standing near the register started to approach me, but I
gestured them to stay back for now. To my shame, I realized I'd used
exactly the same gesture a trainer would use on a dog for Stay. 

 I heard Walker snarl, "Hey! Stop stealing the freaking guacamole!" 

 "What are you, the second coming of Joe Pesci?" Ray asked. 

 "Don't get me started on my `do I amuse you' routine. Nobody wants to go
there." She waved her hand and the nacho gripped by it for emphasis.
"Anyway, he says, `Not even you can make a Chevy fly.'" 

 I heard Ray laugh. "Oh, man." 

 "Yeah. I had to prove him wrong after that. When we got back, it took
five minutes of coaxing to get him to let go of the dashboard. He got a
new partner the next day. And don't give me that look, not when you drive
cars like you just stole `em for a joyride." Her face went still as she
looked up and saw me, and she rolled her shoulders in a way that suggested
to me that she had a gun. It was something Ray did sometimes when he wore
his holster. 

 But I was being impossible, looking for demons that weren't there. 

 Ray had turned around as soon as he saw her reaction. His kohl had
smudged, making dark shadows around his eyes. "Hey, Ben." I could read
nothing in his face or voice. 

 I nodded to him. "Ray." My voice remained admirably even. 

 "I didn't know if you'd get my message." 

 "I did." 

 Ray smiled a bit, almost smugly. "Yeah, or you wouldn't be here. Let's
take this outside." 

 "Let's." 

 Diefenbaker settled near Walker's feet, apparently disinclined to move. I
simply shook my head at him. As Ray and I walked outside, Ray told the
couple that "the dog's all right. He's with me." 

 Although I wanted to walk a bit further away from the diner, Ray stopped
in front of one of the windows and would not move. I quickly understood
his reason for it. "Why are we standing in her view?" I asked. 

 Ray paced a tight circle, all barely caged energy and tension. I wanted
to touch him. I was afraid to touch him. "She can only see me through the
window, and she can't read lips like Dief can. Anyway, she gets worried
about me. It's what friends do. So. I make sure she has nothing to worry
about by being right in the open. Or are you thinking of doing something
you don't want her seeing you do to me?" 

 "Were you toying with me earlier?" 

 Ray's pale eyes, looking almost yellow now instead of their more usual
blue flecked with gold, blazed in their rings of smudged and fading black
kohl. Chameleon eyes. "What? You grabbed me." 

 "I meant by stopping the car, then starting it again." 

 He sucked in a breath. "Do you really want to know? I don't think so." 

 "Are you telling me what I want?" 

 "Hey, why not. Yer telling yerself all kinds of wrong things about me, so
let me tell you something about you. About what you want. You don't wanna
know." 

 "I want to know." 

 Ray flung up his hands in a gesture that seemed part shrug, part hard
anger. "Fine then. I was talking to my Canadian hallucination. The bird
one. If you wanna be precise, I had my hands around its fucking neck. I
figure you'd appreciate me stopping the car instead of trying to strangle
it while driving. Yeah, it's back, and it told me you made a bargain with
it in a damned dream that made it possible for it to start bugging me
again. Something about it being free to fuck with me if you stopped
keeping me happy. But I think I finally managed to convince the bird to
beat it. So I'm having a great night all around; how `bout you?" 

 I couldn't speak through my horror and confusion. He'd just given me a
description of a dream I hadn't told him about. If it had been more than a
dream... had I been tricked into such a bargain? 

 I didn't want to believe. 

 "You got nothing to say?" Ray asked, right in my face, any issues of
personal space forgotten. 

 I shook my head as I tried to process it all. "Nothing." 

 "`Cause, I mean, here I am seeing things again. It's crazy Ray, tripping
off his ass again." 

 "I'm--" 

 "Maybe you figure you have a right to tell me who I can have as my
friends, seeing as how I'm nuts and all." 

 "That has nothing to do with it." 

 "So it's jealousy instead of thinking that my judgment's impaired and
being concerned for my well-being? I got this pretty girl sitting over
there. She's 32, and maybe her biological clock's ticking away. She might
take me down right over the nachos. I might not be able to fight her off.
Hell, maybe I'll be the aggressive one. I'll probably jump her the moment
yer back is turned, `cause, I mean, ya never know with me, seeing as how
I'm a dog an' all." 

 "A dog, Ray?" 

 "Yeah. Y'know, a faithless male slut who can't keep his pants zipped.
That's what yer saying, right?" 

 His accusation tipped me back over into full anger. He'd distracted me,
but now I was back on track. "No!" He didn't understand. 

 If he were mad or haunted, he needed my guidance more than ever. 

 "Then what are you saying?" Ray asked, nearly vibrating with rage and
energy. 

 "I was angry at you when you came home. Your terse note--" 

 "You gotta be kidding me. I told you I'd be out dancing." 

 "You didn't say with whom." 

 "What happened to `all women are our sisters; I believe platonic
relationships happen all the time'? Besides, Fraser, me being with you
means I play for both teams. You know that. If you really wanna be an ass,
you could look at any name, male or female, I wrote down and think I was
screwing around on you. So why bother?" 

 I bristled under his invective. Before tonight, I hadn't heard that tone
of voice from him in some time. "You could tell I didn't like her." 

 Ray almost choked. "You didn't say one fucking thing." 

 "You could tell." 

 "So what? Do all my friends have to pass muster with you, Mum? And I'm
getting the feeling yer more upset that it was Ray, but that you still
would've been upset if Raphael or Santiago took me out too. Jeez, it's a
good thing Stan Bernstein isn't in town." 

 "You're wrong. It's simply her. I don't trust her." 

 "You don't know her, and you've made it obvious that you don't wanna know
her. If you knew her, ya might have to realize that yer fucking wrong, and
that never happens, does it?" Ray ran his hand through his hair. "Fuck.
She was right, and I jumped down her throat for it." 

 "Is Walker making judgements on me now?" 

 "It would only be right since you did that the second you saw her, but
no, this was more of a comparison." 

 "So you did notice my reaction." 

 "I noticed it but I thought I was misinterpreting because I couldn't
believe it. I didn't think you did that shit. I hate people who judge
other people on first sight. People've been doing that to me my whole
life. I learned to play to it later on, but I hate it. Now I find out that
you do the same thing. If you hadn't been so busy going, `You, sir, are
not Raymond Vecchio' when you first saw me, what kind of judgment would
you have come to on me?" 

 "You don't understand. You're not like her. She's different." 

 "She's not that different. I want you to explain it all to me, and try to
do it in a way that doesn't make you sound like an asshole. Explain it to
me. I dare you." 

 "I shouldn't have to. It's obvious." 

 "God dammit!" Ray closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against their
inner corners up and at an angle. When he took his hands away, he'd
smudged kohl in intersecting streaks across the bridge of his nose, given
him something akin to a raccoon mask. Or.... 

 It reminded me of Pris, one of the characters from a movie I saw with my
Ray twice, Blade Runner. The black across his eyes and nose combined with
the increased appearance of pallor the white light streaming out of the
diner gave him made the resemblance immediate. Pris had been designed to
be nothing more than a technologically advanced sex toy and often played
dumb, but in one scene she answered J.F.'s question with the words
"accelerated decrepitude." Her usual seeming struck me as being so
analogous to Ray's "dumb flatfoot" act, complete with the occasional slip
of the mask to show the calculating intelligence within, that I'd smiled.
I never told Ray why. 

 My mind raced, taking the link farther. I sensed importance here, no
matter how trivial and castoff my thought that he physically resembled a
movie character tonight seemed right now. 

 "Go ahead. Explain it to me," Ray said. "I'm waiting." 

 The one time we'd tried to watch the director's cut of that film, Ray had
disdained it, saying that without the original's voiceover he couldn't
even figure out what was going on, and he'd seen the movie before. He did
approve of the director's decision to end the film with Deckard and
Rachael getting into the elevator, running for their lives, informing me
that the original's ending had Rachael's life known to be limitless as it
showed them driving through a verdant landscape. As he put it, "Oh, yeah,
Earth's so bad everybody's escaping to space colonies but just outside LA
we have a beautiful wilderness. Suuuuure. Do you know they lifted the
visuals from another film? The Shining, believe it or not." Then he
brought out his well-worn copy of the original version of Blade Runner for
us to watch. 

 The voiceover did help me. First, by showing me for certain that we were
watching a noir story, a fact only suggested by some eccentric costuming
choices in the director's cut. I'd seen examples of the genre in both book
and movie form at some of my past posts. Second, it told me that Deckard
wasn't simply a ruthless man more machine-like than the replicants he
hunted, but a man who knew himself to be cold and ruthless... and scared
of it, wanting to change. A man torn between his duty and his evergrowing
feeling that he did this duty for a corrupt government that used people
like him to do evil things. 

 The movie turned out to be a complicated, if flawed, contemplation of
identity and humanity. What makes us who we are? Can we change? Is
humanity something we're born with or something we prove and earn through
the way we live our lives? 

 "Earth to Fraser," Ray said. His eyes nearly blazed in indignation. "We
doing the silent treatment now? I'm not some kid who can be intimidated by
that." 

 "I'm tracing something important," I answered. It was so close.... 

 "That's for damned sure." 

 Important indeed, as I remembered Ray's reaction to a scene between
Deckard and Rachael. At one point Deckard forcibly stops her from leaving
his apartment, harshly pins her to the wall, terrifying her, and tells her
to ask him to kiss her. That she acquiesces, later showing some passion,
and that the style of music suggested it was a love scene only disgusted
Ray even more. "God, I hate that one every time," he'd said. "That's not
right. It's just not right. You don't do that to somebody you supposedly
love or want or whatever." I'd agreed. 

 And what had I done tonight? 

 All of this hit me in a sudden cascade of instinctive leaps, bypassing
some steps entirely to reach the conclusions. Seen from the end judgment,
the bridges became more obvious, but before that I'd simply leapt over the
chasms from one seemingly irrelevant topic to another until I found the
truth I needed. Was this what it was like to think like Ray? 

 He leaned against the window, his arms crossed, and simply looked at me.
I wondered if the sleeves of his jacket hid bruises in the shape of my
hands. 

 My outrage and sense of righteousness fled. "I'm sorry for what looked
like inattention, Ray, but I needed to think a few things through. What I
did to you earlier was wrong. I'm even more sorry for that. I want to talk
this out and try to make amends." 

 Ray looked casual. Too casual. "Don't try too hard. I don't want ya to
strain yerself or nothing." 

 "I mean it. I'll go inside and sit with you so we can discuss this like
adults." 

 His eyes briefly lit up, then dimmed again. "I was with somebody who was
possessive once. It went from seeming sexy and caring to suffocating
damned fast. Since I've already taken that tour once, I'm reaching
`suffocated' much faster now. I don't wanna go there again." 

 "I understand." 

 Ray took a long, deep breath. "I want to give us a chance to work. Ray
will leave--" 

 As much as I didn't want to say this, I had something to prove. "That's
not necessary. She can stay." 

 Ray looked highly dubious. "You sure about that? I mean, I know you don't
like talking personal stuff in front of a stranger, and I totally get
that. I'm not big on it either." 

 "I need to show you that I have no intention of locking you away from
other people. If she's a friend of yours, I can certainly be civil." 

 Ray nodded. "Okay. Good. Come inside with me?" 

 As we walked back into the diner, Walker stopped stroking Dief's head and
gave us her full attention. It obscurely bothered me when her hands
settled under the table, but I didn't know why. Gun, my instincts had said
when I first saw her in the diner. Did I think she would shoot me? The
understanding mixed with reproach I had seen in her eyes earlier had been
replaced by something hard and unyielding, making me wonder what Ray had
told her. 

 Walker looked utterly clean-scrubbed, all traces of a temptress gone. A
circular impression from the cowboy hat now sitting on the table beside
her had been left in her slowly drying hair. Her jacket and clothing
obscured her shape, leaving her nearly genderless. Not that, as Ray
himself had said, her gender would have mattered. 

 Her blank face and hard eyes reminded me uncomfortably of some of the
looks Ray Vecchio had given me today, looks he blamed on his time
portraying the Bookman. 

 Ray settled into the booth across from her first, then moved closer to
the wall as I sat next to him. It comforted me to have him boxed in so. 

 Walker and I simply watched one another for a while until Ray snapped,
"Shit, with the way you two are staring at each other I keep thinking I'm
watching Scanners, waiting for one of yer heads to blow up. Could you just
get the pissing match over with, mount me as the victor, and be fucking
done with it already?" 

 Walker almost choked. "Ray!" Perhaps from her distraction, her right eye
started to slide out of focus with her left a bit. 

 It was repellent to watch and made me wonder if she did it as a way to
toy with me until my Ray said, "Shit, Ray, I didn't realize you were that
tired." 

 She blinked, then her eyes moved in tandem again. "I'm fine," she said. 

 "Yer lazy eye only acts up when--" 

 "I'm fine. But I'm not being much help here. I can go home and leave you
to it." 

 "Fraser wants you to stay." 

 "In which alternate universe?" 

 "I did ask if you could stay," I said. 

 "Did you. Okay, here I am." 

 Walker and I stared at one another in silence for a few minutes and I
could feel Ray becoming more agitated by the moment. Yet I could find
nothing to say to her, not even to support my assertion that I wanted her
there or to make Ray feel better. I couldn't think of a single thing that
couldn't be taken the wrong way. 

 Ray's eyes swept from me to Walker and back, before he shook his head in
disgust. "I have to use the can. Play nice for the few minutes I'm gone,
would ya? Here's a hint: now it would be okay if you don't speak to one
another," Ray said, not entirely in jest, before he left us alone. It
killed me to hear him sound so upset. 

 Walker and I looked at one another from across the table. I watched her
mouth start to open and then close a few times and her fingers flex and
then relax into an attempt to be motionless. I could tell that she wanted
to speak, wanted to point a finger at me for emphasis. Finally, she shoved
a lollipop into her mouth, clamping her lips tightly around it, and leaned
back into her seat, arms crossed. However, she vibrated, providing such a
perfect picture of arrested movement that I thought she might explode in
her struggle to hold back the contained but steadily building urge to
harangue me. 

 Watching the intensity of effort involved made me far more uncomfortable
and annoyed than having her yell at me would have. "Why don't you just say
what you're thinking?" I asked. 

 "What good would it do?" 

 "I'd like to hear it." 

 "No, you wouldn't." 

 "Please don't tell me what I'm thinking." 

 "See? I could do more harm than good. I doubt you trust my judgment. And
you're too smart for me to tell you the opposite of what I'd like you to
do and expect you to do it. So smart that I think you know what I want to
say anyway." She sighed and rested her head against the wall, then pulled
a pad and pen out of her pocket and started to write something. 

 It annoyed me that she didn't think enough of me to even give me her full
attention. Perhaps it was a simple lack of manners, but I felt
uncharitable tonight. "I think I do. You're wrong in much of it." 

 "Of course I am." She ripped the page out of her pad, set some money down
on the table, and put her black cowboy hat on. She inclined her head to me
once, then slid out of the booth, stood up, stretched, and started to walk
away. 

 I grabbed her by the arm and felt her fighting herself to avoid forcibly
removing my grip. "Where are you going?" I asked. 

 "Away, because this won't work. I love Ray like a brother, and me being
around is screwing things up for him again. With all the other shit on his
mind, he doesn't need this too." She ripped her arm from my grasp and
started to walk, but then she came back. "And after all the time you've
known Ray you still don't realize that he likes his women girly? Jesus."
Then she started to leave for good. 

 As much as I wanted her to go and never shadow Ray again, another part of
me realized that this couldn't end happily. Ray understandably didn't take
well to having things he loved snatched away from him. And I... I was
being unreasonable. I knew it. Yet I didn't move to stop her again. 

 "No!" My Ray was almost a blur as he ran to catch her. He grabbed her and
dragged her back to the table. "No, no, no, no. We are not doing this. God
damn it, I leave you two alone for a few fucking minutes...." 

 "Ray--" 

 He dropped her back into the booth and then sat down, shoving her further
into the seat. "Now we're going to be adults." 

 I heard Walker mutter something that sounded like: "Note to self: Next
time I try for a graceful exit, just shut the fuck up and make the exit." 

 "That's not adult. It's not enough he's trying to take you away from me;
now you have to take you away from me?" 

 "Ray, I'm not--" I started to protest. 

 Walker spoke over me. "It's better this way. You don't need this shit." 

 "I decide what shit I need," Ray said. "Besides, I may or may not stay in
Chicago but I'm not going to have my last part of you be some damned note
ya left on the table before you exiled yerself." Then he looked at me with
such disappointment in his eyes. 

 "Ray, I had nothing to do with her leaving. Truly," I said. I noticed
that he'd washed much of the smudged kohl off his face but some of it
remained in shadows around his eyes. 

 "Oh, yeah, nothing. I walked away from her once to please somebody and it
left me miserable and didn't even work. I'd like to think I've learned
better since then." 

 Walker fidgeted. "Ray, let me talk to Mr. and Mrs. Nemesanyi. They look
like they're trying to figure out a way to oust your Mountie. By gunpoint
if necessary." 

 "No." 

 "I'm not gonna run out!" 

 When I turned to see the diner's owners, their eyes quickly and nervously
slid away from me. They seemed terrified of me and worried for Ray. My
God, had I done that? 

 "This isn't who I am," I muttered. 

 "What?" Ray asked. 

 Ray and Walker both watched me carefully as if they expected me to
explode at any time. And why not? Hadn't I been behaving in a violently
volatile manner tonight? 

 Hadn't I already roughhoused Ray as if he were nothing more than my
property, mine to dispose of as I wished? 

 Early this morning, a lifetime ago, I'd thought that the two of us being
welded together would be wonderful, but my true dream would be to take it
farther. Nothing would make a large part of me happier than to live alone
with Ray in a cabin in the wilderness, far from anyone else. Once in a
while I would have to go to a nearby town for supplies, but Ray would stay
in the cabin, I could have him whenever I wanted, and he would never
leave. Ever. 

 He was happy in those daydreams, but how could he be while I kept him as
a private playtoy? When I was the only person allowed in his life and he
was utterly dependent on me? 

 I frightened myself. What I wanted from him was sick and no good for him.
I wanted to devour him alive and suck him dry, but I didn't know if even
that would fill the hole I felt within myself. My fear, jealousy, and lust
would strangle him. If we reconciled tonight and I vowed to amend my ways,
how long would I be able to keep my promise before this dark tide inside
me rose again? 

 I was losing control again. Had I learned nothing from Victoria? 

 Or perhaps I had. What she'd wanted to do to me, I was now trying to do
to my Ray. If Ray Vecchio hadn't shot me, I would have joined her on that
train, an act of self-annihilation. My life with her would have been one
of self-denial, of throwing aside every principle I'd ever believed in
until Benton Fraser no longer existed. A large part of me had found that
very attractive. With every hand rightly turned against us, with no one we
could trust not to turn us in, I would have been utterly dependent on
Victoria for human contact. 

 It didn't make me a better person that I at least didn't demand that Ray
betray everyone he knew to be with me. I only asked him to abandon them
all. 

 If I truly loved him, I would let him go. I would have to make it a harsh
break for fear that he would be willing to make the same sacrifices I'd
been willing to make for her. 

 "I have to go," I said, trying to avoid the inevitable like a coward. 

 "What?" Ray asked. 

 "I have to go. I can't do this." 

 As I stood, Ray grabbed my wrist, and none of my effort could shake his
grip. It clamped so tightly that my fingers buzzed from waning
circulation. "You talk to me," he said. "Nobody leaves tonight without
saying things to me first. I don't want nobody assuming I know what
they're thinking. Talk to me." 

 "Everything I do seems to hurt you. I'm trying to take the path that
leads to the least hurt." 

 "And you decide that for me. Why do you decide that for me? Everybody
leaves me, but I don't get a say?" 

 It sounded like a cry from my own soul. That was my life and pain
reflected in his words. 

 "I should go," Walker said, sounding ever more uncomfortable. 

 "No," Ray said to her. "I'm not losing anybody." 

 I understood. He hoped her presence would prevent me from doing anything
irrevocable now. Surely I wouldn't want to air something serious in front
of a stranger, especially one I didn't like. 

 I couldn't let that deter me. Ray's health and happiness depended on it.
I swallowed. "Ray, as much as I love you, I think the last few days and
especially tonight show that the two of us being romantically involved
isn't healthy for either of us. I... think it best if we cease." 

 "Are you breaking up with me?" Ray paled and looked as if I'd struck him
across the face. Walker looked like she wanted to slide under the table
and hide. 

 "Yes. I think it best, since I fear that things will only get worse if we
continue the way we have." 

 "Yer breaking up with me? It's been a fun few weeks, but now yer moving
on? Ben, we had one bad night. One." 

 "It's not just one bad night." 

 "I thought things were going pretty well." 

 "Alone, in a private dreamland, it was. After that we were simply
pretending that they were. It's better to end things now." I actually felt
physically ill. My heart wanted to burst from my chest in horror at what I
was doing and at the thought of what I might do to him later if I didn't
do this now. 

 "Why do you get to decide what's best for me?" 

 "Ray, everything isn't about you." Oh, God. That didn't come out the way
I wanted it to. "I mean, that it's me too, and--" 

 Ray's eyes looked dead, lost in a nightmare. I wondered if Stella had
said exactly those words to him. "Right. Sure." 

 "This is exactly what I mean. I have to go," I said. In Ray's shock, his
grip on my wrist had loosened, so I broke away easily. "Please don't
follow me." I had to make this fast. It would hurt more and be more
difficult if I didn't put this to him quickly, then go. 

 To my relief, Dief followed me out the door, running along with me. I
looked back once to see Ray getting up, no doubt to do exactly what I'd
asked him not to, so I poured on some more speed. I couldn't bear to say
any more to him. 

 I'd just made a very public scene. If my father were here-- 

 I turned off all thought and just ran.  

 I ran after him. At least I hoped I was behind him; I wasn't sure which
direction he took. What else could I do? Story of my life is running after
people who didn't want to be caught, and a lot of them were people I
loved. Besides, the concrete problem of tracking him down distracted me a
bit from the fact that I felt like my soul had been ripped out. 

 And the fact that he looked like he'd been in such agony as he spoke to
me. 

 What the hell was he doing? And why? 

 I sent Ray after him in a different direction, though I sure as hell
hoped she wasn't the one to find him. That would be a scene. She had her
cell phone and I had mine, so maybe we could coordinate.... 

 But I didn't know if I could find him when he didn't want to be found. 

 Did he even remember right now that he was living with me, so all his
stuff, what little he owned, was at my place? Where was he going? Where
the hell would he stay? The Vecchios'? I had my cell phone in my hand
before I thought of how late it was and how Ma Vecchio would freak if she
got a middle of the night call from some guy asking in a panic if Ben was
okay. If he wasn't there, I'd just be making her as scared as I was. So no
call. If he didn't turn up by tomorrow morning, I'd go over there myself. 

 Right now, I couldn't see him anywhere at all, so going after him on foot
made no sense. Time to get the GTO and start looking. 

 Yeah, stick with the concrete stuff. Anything to avoid the real issues.
And all the pain was just me pushing my body to catch up with him, the
pounding of my feet against cement.... 

 I would find him and make things right. Somehow. 

 But hours of driving and searching his usual haunts later, I still hadn't
found him, and I was going crazy. I nearly jumped out of my skin when my
cell phone went off. "Vec-- Ray here." 

 "I don't see him either, and it's almost seven a.m. You're too tired to
drive, and if we haven't found him yet, he's gone to ground, so we won't
find him now. You need to get some sleep." 

 "I don't--" 

 "In your current state you're a danger to yourself and others while
behind the wheel of a car." 

 A danger to myself and others. That sounded about right. "I can't--" 

 "I've been driving behind you for five minutes now, and you haven't
noticed. You're fried. If you wrap yourself around a pole now, Fraser
would never forgive you." 

 Dammit. "All right. All right. I'll go home." Take in enough sleep to get
myself sharp again, then hunt him down.  

 I moved on autopilot, uncertain of direction or time. Of course. What
else could I expect after I'd ripped a piece of my soul out, breaking the
heart of someone I loved more than life itself in the process? I was
incomplete. Well, more incomplete than I had been before. I told myself it
would be cleaner to do this now, a cauterizing, healing pain now to
prevent a more insidious and painful infection later. 

 I had to tell myself this. None of it made sense otherwise. Otherwise...
I had to carry the memory of Ray's stricken face with me and know that I'd
hurt him for no good reason. 

 I finally stopped in front of an unfamiliar building. Why? The street
name, the building number.... Turnbull's note. Without thinking, I'd
wandered to Ren's apartment building. There were other places, like the
Vecchio household, I could go for shelter, but none that didn't carry a
dangerous emotional charge and meaning. 

 I couldn't do this. I would not inflict myself upon him. I turned-- 

 "Sir!" 

 I turned back to see Renfield, halfway dressed in his uniform, standing
at the open door. I realized then that this was morning, nearly time for
him to leave for work. 

 I wondered what had made him come down to the door. I hadn't even
approached the front steps. 

 He took one look at me and said, "I told you that you could see me if you
needed something. Please come in." 

 I simply continued to stare. I couldn't seem to make my mouth or legs
work. 

 Ren used something to block the building's front door to keep it open and
dashed down the steps to me. His uniform looked impeccable below the
waist, but he had only his suspenders and Henley on above. The morning
chill had to be cutting into him terribly. 

 Guilt set me in motion again. "I can't," I said. "You're about to leave
for--" 

 He gripped my arm. The wrong hands.... "Please, sir. Come with me. It's
no imposition at all." 

 I let him tow me inside, to what seemed to be Diefenbaker's immense
relief. A few flights of stairs later, he opened another door and dragged
me behind him. Diefenbaker, more sensible and practical than I, rushed in.


 Ren's small, Spartan lodging struck me with a deep pang of unexpected
nostalgia for the Chicago apartment I'd lost to Zoltan Motherwell's
vengeance. So many things had changed since then, and my life and desires
had attained a level of complexity I never would have foreseen. I felt so
entangled in so many lives and so many other people's wants in ways I'd
never been before coming to this city. 

 Then again, it only made sense. I hadn't had many people involved in my
life prior to arriving in Chicago. 

 That meant something, something important that I was missing.... 

 I felt it lingering at the corner of my eye, disappearing when I tried to
look at it straight on. An epiphany, perhaps. Unfortunately, it remained
out of reach. For now. 

 Actually, Ren's apartment did show a few personal touches. A covered
easel, with charcoals and watercolor paints sitting nearby, stood in one
corner of the kitchen, while a plush wolf toy sat atop his sharply and
perfectly made bed. 

 He sat me down on a kitchen chair and put the kettle on. Warmth and
civilization here. It almost broke me. My head seemed too heavy for my
neck to support, so I rested it on my crossed arms atop the table. But as
Ren turned to face me I brought my head back up and achieved a stoic
expression. I had to hold myself together for company. 

 "I hate to be so forward, Benton, but please tell me what's wrong.
Something is." 

 "It's nothing I can't work out on my own, Renfield. I'm sorry to have
disturbed you so early. I couldn't forgive myself if my arrival rendered
you late for work." 

 "Truthfully, my new inspector wouldn't notice," Ren answered, sounding
distracted. His eyes, however, focused with disconcerting intensity on me.
"I should call Ray." 

 "Please, don't!" Too much of my emotional state had exploded out into
those words. 

 Turnbull looked horrified. "Is something wrong with Ray?" 

 "No. No, Ren, Ray is fine." I could tell he didn't quite believe me.
"I'm... leery of disturbing Ray at this time." Please let him assume that
I referred to the late hour. 

 "You've fallen out, then. Surely the situation can be fixed." 

 My jaw wanted to drop, and only self-discipline prevented it. "How could
you possibly know that?" 

 Ren looked nervous. "I've simply observed you and Ray often enough to
make an enlightened guess." While I sat, disbelieving, he went on, "I've
never known you to give up so easily. Especially not on Ray, or on a
relationship that you both so obviously want." Ren squirmed a little under
my increasingly surprised stare. "Your feelings for him have been obvious
for some time now. As have his for you." 

 I wanted to laugh, because otherwise I'd cry. I found the self-control
necessary to do neither. I could lie, but I couldn't find the strength.
"Your concern is appreciated, even as I can't help finding your leaps of
logic hard to credit." I found it all suspicious, but it provided a
perfect cap on a morning in which I'd assaulted someone I loved in a
jealous rage, found out that he believed a native spirit had followed him
to Chicago and conversed with him in his car, furthered tormented him
myself for a while, then broken up with him. All before 8 a.m. 

 "But I am correct?" 

 I sighed. "Indeed." 

 "Please forgive me for my presumption, but perhaps talking about it might
help you find a solution. Nothing would make me happier than knowing that
the both of you are happy." 

 I gave him a sharp look, but he turned oblivious on me, refusing to
notice. Telling my innermost secrets hadn't helped earlier, but I had to
admit that I may have let those fester too long before sharing them with
Ray. Instead of relaying them in a calm, sensible fashion, I'd fumbled
about like a man who'd taken a serious blow to the head. 

 "Please, sir," Ren said. "Let me repay the camaraderie you've shown me by
helping you in whatever small way I can." 

 I didn't need to reveal all the tragic details of my relations with Ray,
though it hardly seemed like I had to, not with the way Renfield seemed to
be pulling details from thin air. Perhaps, though, Ren might be helpful in
tackling the problem that I knew lay at the root of my jealousies and
other insane actions. Why not? Perhaps voicing and explaining them might
make my path clearer in my own mind. 

 I had to clear my throat first, but I managed to choke out, "Aside from
other... difficulties, I cannot take Ray back to the Territories with me.
I've known that for some time now but wouldn't let myself admit it." Drove
the thought entirely out of my head was more like it. 

 Ren smiled a little, pleased to be taken into my confidence, then turned
serious. "Is he so hopeless there?" 

 "No. In fact, physically he adapted better than I had any right to expect
and, great heart that he is, he rarely complained. It's--" I would sound
insane saying this to most people, but Ren didn't live in quite the same
world most people did.... "Well, I lack the evidence to say for certain
either way, but he was either becoming unhinged or finding himself the
unwilling target of a... power's attention. A threatening attention." 

 "A `power'?" 

 "He saw things. I thought them simple hallucinations, but he also knew
things he shouldn't have. Then he started to draw salt circles around our
camps." 

 "Ray did?" For some reason, Ren didn't look surprised. 

 I mentally filed that away for later. "Indeed. My own dreams may be
simple coincidence, but they certainly seemed to suggest that Raven had
taken an interest in us. The Raven of my dream said that Ray would
continue to be so afflicted as long as we were in the Territories." I took
a sip of tea to calm me. Even if Ray decided to come to Canada with me
again, even there I wouldn't be alone with him, not with Raven
interfering. 

 But he'd said he'd seen Raven again tonight. Seen him and banished him.
It seemed that my intervention might have meant very little. Did that then
mean that Ray could return with me to the Territories? Then I remember how
distracted and how unanchored to the world around us he'd been there. 

 He could not go back. 

 I continued, "Ray may want to try staying there again, and I can't let
that happen no matter what I want." I could talk him into it so easily,
heaven help me. Did my selfishness know no bounds? 

 "Surely there's a way to resolve this. A Canadian city, perhaps, so your
homesickness wouldn't be so unbearable. Toronto?" 

 "Not Toronto, Ren. Definitely not Toronto." 

 "Ottawa, perhaps." 

 "More cities. I can't help feeling that it wouldn't be much different
than staying in Chicago." 

 "Sir!" 

 His instant disapproval startled a laugh out of me. "I'm sorry. I forgot
myself and meant no disrespect to our homeland." 

 A small smile lingered at Ren's lips. "I know you're fatigued and not
always certain of what you're saying. So Chicago is impossible for you?" 

 "Too often it feels like a tightening noose around my neck." 

 I could swear I heard Renfield mutter, "But not always," before he said
to me, "That would seem to answer my question. Is your undeserved exile
truly over, then?" 

 "My capture of Muldoon and help in recovering the Russian submarine and
poison gas canisters put me back in good graces." But something about the
look in Ren's eyes.... "Unless you know something I'm not aware of." 

 "I'm not one to tell tales, sir." 

 "This would be Mountie to Mountie, by the honor of our brotherhood." 

 Ren nodded, satisfied. "Our new inspector is expecting your return. He
seems to feel that the postings you'd be so generously offered would not
sit well with you. When I first saw you back I assumed you meant to resume
your former duties here. Once you confided your indecision, I thought it
better not to say anything in the consulate. But my information may be
outdated." 

 I shouldn't have been surprised by such trickery given the circumstances
of my exile. "Do you know which postings those would be? I haven't
contacted anyone to ask." I'd been so intent on my adventure with Ray and
later Ray himself that I hadn't given a thought to my professional future.
My time of service had never been about having a career, simply my
personal need to see justice done. 

 But, then, acting without giving a thought to consequences or the future
seemed to be my modus operandi of late. It didn't serve Ray or me well. 

 "I'm afraid not, though I remember Toronto being mentioned prominently.
However, I could thoroughly clean the inspector's desk today and see what
I happen upon." 

 "I could never ask you to do that." 

 "I would never expect you to, sir. You could call, but I doubt they would
be as forthcoming as Inspector Scott's papers would be." Ren smiled.
"Please leave it to me. It would be my pleasure." 

 "Thank you." 

 "For what, sir?" His smile deepened. "You didn't ask me for anything." 

 "Of course." 

 "You should rest. I have a bed. Actually, it's more like a glorified cot.
It's not much but--" 

 "I'm sure it's more than satisfactory, but I couldn't." 

 "Please accept my hospitality." 

 Ray would laugh himself sick at this battle of politesse. Ray....
"Perhaps after I finish my tea." 

 "Very good. I'm sure a solution will be easier to come to you once you're
rested." 

 "You may be right." 

 "Please make yourself at home. I would offer to stay with you, but I
think I may be more help to you at Inspector Scott's desk. But if you'd
like, I could stay." 

 "There's no need to stay with me. I'll be fine." 

 Ren nodded his head to me. "Of course. Then I'll let you know later if I
find out anything. Good day, sir." 

 After Turnbull closed the door, I let my head drift down to my crossed
arms. I saw no solutions, and I felt so tired....  

 Guns in hand, grinning, Ray and I ran down our prey. We had our backup
somewhere behind us--Ramirez, Bernstein, Huey, and Dewey--but we were the
forerunners in the pack, the Tigger Twins, high on adrenaline, faster than
the rest. Blood and muscles pumped as every movement reminded me I was
warm and alive.... God, I never stopped loving this part. 

 Hunting criminals with Fraser was fun too, but different. With him it was
a duet of opposites working in harmony, but with Ray it was a doubled
melody. Fraser knew a lot of what I thought on the hunt, but Ray thought
the same things I thought. I wouldn't even need to ask her to "rack that
bad boy and cover me" if it was necessary, because she'd already be doing
it with a deadly smile. 

 The warehouse floor flew beneath us we were booking it so hard. We easily
cut the distance between us and the fleeing back ahead of us. 

 Ray nodded to me as I pulled ahead, then threw myself at our prey in a
flying tackle. He grunted as he went down, but still struggled. I let him
think he got rid of me but kept rolling so I'd block his exit. With me in
front of him and Ray behind him, he had nowhere to go. 

 Ben couldn't escape me this time. 

 Looking angry and afraid, he stood in a rush, his blue eyes glancing
between me holding a gun on him and Ray holding a gun on him. He vibrated
with tension. I wanted him. Here. Now. And I wanted to pistol-whip him
until he listened. 

 "You don't leave the pack, do you get that? There is no `out,' do you get
that?" I growled at him. "Yer mine, and it's for life." 

 "Precisely," Ben said before pulling out a gun and turning it on Ray. She
didn't expect it because I didn't. Fraser never carried a gun in the
States. The sound of it going off seemed loud enough to shatter the world.
Her eyes looked so huge and shocked as a gaping red hole bloomed between
them. She hit the floor hard and lay there, broken. 

 Fraser never carried a gun, at least not in Chicago. And he didn't kill,
not like that. 

 While I stood there, staring in shock, gun lowered, feeling like he'd
shot a big piece of me off, Ben turned his weapon on me. I pulled my own
back up and snarled, "I swear I'll shoot, you son of a bitch." The anger
and terror finally started to hit. This wasn't the Fraser I knew, and I
had no idea what he was capable of. He'd just... gunned her down. 

 "I'm counting on it. In any case, I certainly will. Diefenbaker is
already there." 

 "What the hell is wrong with you?" 

 Ben smiled. "We'll be together, Ray, safe and perfect. Together always,
and nothing will ever change." 

 His finger started to press the trigger.... I needed to stall for time.
Every time I tried to make a stealthy move to disarm him, he kept tracking
on me anyway. I couldn't shoot him, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let
him kill me either. "What? Yer gonna shoot me and cart my body around?
That's not buddies." 

 "Not at all. Then I'll turn the gun on myself. I told you. Together, safe
and perfect." Aiming for my head, he pulled the trigger. 

 I awoke in a panic. Alive, alive... at 11 a.m. Shit, was I late for work.
And was I supposed to drive Fraser somewhere today? 

 No way I'd tell Fraser about this dream. He'd get upset and either decide
to pretend he never heard about it--something he did badly--or talk it to
death, which would make me think turning my gun on him might not be a bad
idea. And how much work could we possibly get done while we're both
screwed up like that? Welsh'd have my head. 

 Wait. 

 Being in my bed in my apartment said I was Ray Vecchio and I had to get
to work. My heart said that Ben should be lying snuggled beside me. My
head reminded me that Mr. Reason broke us up and walked away to parts
unknown last night. 

 Oh yeah. 

 I buried my face into my pillow to hide. It was all so crazy. Had he
always been this fucked-up, or was it something he started after hanging
with me? Not that I was a picture of perfect mental health. 

 I never got to see him in a relationship with anybody. Hell, most people
seemed to think he didn't fall in love or lust with people that way, that
he was a Mountie island, sufficient unto himself or something. Like he was
a robot and didn't need human companionship. They didn't see the guy under
the shield of duty and politeness. I figured out better immediately after
I met him. Of course, he'd helped me there by being snappish and a bit
crazy as he measured my nose and gave me a putty sandwich to prove I
wasn't Ray Vecchio. 

 Good first day, though. Fun. 

 I'd seen Fraser hot for a few people--the Ice Queen, the bounty hunter
chick, Tracy Jenkins, and Maggie Mackenzie, the last of them still
creeping me out for being his half-sister, not that he knew it at first.
I'd thought he had a thing for Lady Shoes, but he was just playing me on
that one, something that still freaks me out to this day. But none of them
led anywhere, so I never got to see how he was when he was with somebody. 

 I heard about Victoria, but that one hadn't been normal, not her and not
what he had with her. Not in any way, shape, or form. 

 Or maybe it was, for him? Shit. I didn't even want to go there. 

 So instead I was here. Waking up alone. Without Ben. That was something I
hadn't done in months. Literally speaking, I woke up without him here in
bed yesterday, but I still had his warmth suffusing the sheets, pillows,
and my body. Dief had helped too. Today I had too much space, too much
quiet, in my bed. 

 At least I didn't have total quiet, because I heard the TV on in the
living room. Had to be Ray on the couch, keeping watch for me in case Ben
came home. That really brought the whole night crashing in on me. 

 I still couldn't believe he'd dumped me in front of her. Okay, I couldn't
believe he'd dumped me like that, period, but especially not in front of
her. How desperate would he have to be to air our dirty laundry in front
of someone he considered a stranger at best and an enemy at worst? I mean,
he hated her, at first sight even, which was something I never thought I'd
see since he gave everybody the benefit of the doubt to the point of
taking it too far. Hating her was like hating me, considering all the
things Ray and I had in common, and he claimed he loved me. It made no
sense. 

 Poor Ray. She'd been so obviously horrified to be there watching us as we
fought and broke up, maybe even feeling a bit responsible when none of it
was her fault. It was all mine and his. 

 Against my will, I remembered her shocked eyes in the dream as he killed
her. She didn't expect it because I didn't. Seeing her shot down in front
of me had been beyond bad, but somehow that phrase--"She didn't expect it
because I didn't"--kept ringing in my brain. With all the other parts of
that dream that made me want to beat my head against the wall, why did
that keep bothering me? Well, aside from me trying to avoid the subject of
Ben at all costs. 

 She didn't expect it because I didn't. 

 I knew that it was important somehow. It sounded egotistical at first,
all "how could she expect it when Ray Kowalski the Boy Wonder didn't?" But
I knew that wasn't what my brain had been saying there. It meant something
else. Some part of me was saying that I kept misnaming her, which was
dangerous, even though I didn't know what I meant by it. Then I thought
back over the last two days, my thoughts, where we'd been, what we'd done,
how I acted. The assumptions I made. 

 She didn't expect it because-- 

 Oh. Oh. Shit. I'm an idiot and I use my friends. Was I that afraid of
being alone? 

 Actually, I couldn't blame myself for hating to be alone. It looked like
I did my clearest, most brutally honest thinking this way, and who wants
that? 

 Shit. 

 Time to face the world and try to put things as right as I could, no
matter how much I wanted to stay in bed and hope ignoring it all would
make it go away. And I had to start the "putting things right" train with
the person sacked out in my living room standing guard. 

 I used to be Ray-and-Stella. I didn't spend every second of the day with
her, but I always knew she was out there somewhere. When that fell apart,
so did I, and I jumped at the chance to be someone else for awhile. If I
had to be alone, I might as well be alone as somebody else, somebody who
might be able to take it. Except that I immediately became Ray-and-Fraser.
The moment Fraser ducked out for a minute, I had to latch onto someone
else. 

 But the worst thing about Ray-and-Rachel is that I didn't even let her
keep herself intact. No, she had to be another me, like two mes going out
into the world together would be safer. No risk or responsibility for me
there. I let her be Ray and made myself her shadow, but that only really
made her my shadow. Because she wasn't me, couldn't be me, shouldn't have
to be me, and I was denying her the chance to be seen by me as her own
self. How could she be a whole person when I was so busy making her be
just a part of me? 

 I've been misnaming her. Calling her my mirror, my shadow, when I should
have been thinking of her as my friend. 

 And the really worst thing for her? Now that I thought about it, I'd been
doing that to her in one form or another for years. Maybe she'd been
better off away from me. 

 It was still better than thinking of Ben holding a gun on me preparing to
make like Romeo and Juliet. 

 As I walked out to the living room I heard some guy on the TV complaining
about what a lying, cheating bitch his wife was. God, I remember when
morning TV was all game shows and reruns of classic TV series, the chance
to win cash and fabulous prizes or to revisit the good stuff. Now it was
all talk shows and people in court, vacuous celebrities or strangers'
problems paraded in front of you as entertainment. What was the world
coming to? 

 As soon as I stepped out the bedroom door, I heard a familiar click that,
bringing back my dream, made me duck for cover. Ray had popped up over the
back of the couch with her gun cocked and ready. I watched her shake away
the killer's blankness from her eyes as she decided not to pull the
trigger, becoming the Ray I knew again. With her jacket off, I could
finally see her holster. 

 "What, were you gonna shoot him if he showed up?" I asked, half angry and
half scared. She'd carried a gun to the diner? What the hell had she been
expecting? 

 This Ray Walker would have blown the dream Ben's head off before he even
had his gun aimed. Looked like I had reason to be scared of all the people
closest to me. And for them. 

 "No. Well, maybe if you wanted me to," Ray said, trying to make it a joke
and failing. She shook her head and put her gun away. "Habit. Sorry." She
yawned so wide that I almost expected the top of her head to fall off.
Poor kid had circles under her eyes, which made sense since, at best,
she'd gotten four hours of sleep on my lumpy couch. 

 I'd wanted her to carry the weight of being me? It looked like she was
having trouble just being Ray Walker. She needed help or something, of a
professional kind. What the hell did she see during her assignment? 

 Which selfishly brought my thinking back to my old assignment and Fraser.
He didn't show up last night, did he? Oh, what was I talking about. Ray
would have noticed and raised an alarm seeing as how she was a trip-wired
and possibly lethal version of Quick Draw McGraw. Unless he did, and she
didn't tell me-- No, I didn't think so. She'd let me know. 

 I didn't even know where I could start looking for him or if he'd want to
be found. 

 Maybe I should get my own shit together first, then go looking. He might
not like Chicago, but he could defend himself. What kind of trouble could
he find in only a few hours anyway? Don't answer that. 

 Where did he sleep last night? Did he sleep at all? 

 Ray looked at her watch. "Fuck." She turned off the TV and put her jacket
on. 

 "What?" 

 "I promised Connie I'd pay her a visit, and I'm due in an hour." Then she
looked up at me. "Oh, shit. Do you need me to stay?" 

 There was a reality check for you. On the woe-is-me scale, "my husband of
ten years and the father of my three children got gunned down buying a
gallon of milk" beat "I don't know what I want to do with my life, and my
boyfriend dumped me" hands down. 

 "Go." 

 "Ray...." 

 "Give her my best and tell her that if she needs anything while I'm here,
I'm good for it. But go home and fix yerself up a bit first. You look like
you've spent a few hours sleeping on somebody's couch." 

 She smiled and flipped me off. "You'll be okay?" 

 "Some time alone to think might do me some good." Besides I couldn't be a
leech forever. "Anyway, Connie and the kids need you more." 

 "If you need anything, just call. I programmed my cell number into your
cell phone. And let me know what happens between you and Nanook of the
North. I'd like to see or talk to you in person sometime really soon, but
I know how strange and fast things can get." She almost sounded like she
expected never to hear from me again. 

 Well, she was wrong. 

 I could ask when and how she got her hands on my phone, but why bother?
"Will do. I think you've been playing crooks too long, though." 

 "Yeah," she said as she tipped the brim of her black cowboy hat to me.
"That's why I'm thinking over a transfer. I just can't keep doing it
anymore." 

 I couldn't even begin to think of a reply to that until she was almost
out the door. "Ray! That thing with the gun and all... I think you should
see a counselor. I worry about you." 

 "I already am seeing one, which shows you how anxious I am to get back to
normal. That's my other major visit of the day. But thanks for worrying.
Hasta la vista, darlin'. Take care of yourself." When she turned back to
the door, the black suede fringe of her jacket swirled around her...
almost like wings. 

 I throttled back the chill, figuring I could take a better look at that
image later. One thing at a time. "You too. Be good." I heard her laugh
evilly at that all the way out the door. 

 Alone at last. With Ray and her sense of fidgeting energy gone, leaving
me nothing to bounce off of, the room felt too empty, but it was time for
me to stop being such a wuss. 

 Except for yesterday morning, I hadn't been alone as in "by myself" in
over two months. Ben had been with me almost every second we spent out in
the wilderness, and he left me with people whenever we were in town. Now I
wondered whether that last bit was to keep me safe or stop me from running
off. Doubt he'd be happy to know that I ended up brawling with a lot of
them. 

 But I'd been alone in the wilderness in a different way. While the nights
had Fraser sleeping so close, even before we became lovers, that I could
probably pick him out of a crowd blindfolded just by his scent or the
rhythm of his heartbeat, the days had been different. He may have been
standing right behind me on the sled, close enough to pat my shoulder when
he felt like it, but I'd felt like I sat there alone. I couldn't feel him
there. Even the dogs seemed distant. I had no crowds of people to merge
into, and very few sounds to get lost in. I only had me. For sounds I only
had barking dogs, the scrape of blades over icy snow, the overloud
interior sounds of my breathing and heartbeat, and the howling wind
slicing through my body. 

 Every day the same. Empty. Outside. Inside. 

 With nothing to look at, hear, or do, my brain wandered to deep, dark
places. Nothing to do but think, and all that nothing outside made sure
the thoughts weren't pleasant. Truth could cut. Maybe that was why One for
Sorrow found me, maybe he heard me screaming inside, praying for someone
to answer and show me I wasn't dead and in purgatory. And look what that
got me. 

 But I wasn't there anymore, no sled, no Yukon. Just Chicago and the
modern world. I could hear my refrigerator humming, my stove's gas flame
working, my turtle moving. Outside, people breathed and walked and lived
in greater numbers than I'd see in years in the Territories. All doing
stuff whether I had my shit together or not. 

 I wasn't alone alone. Not here. But right now I stood in a room by
myself--no people, no cues on how to behave or who to be--and I was okay,
still here. I could do this. I may not have been sure of who I was, but at
least I knew there was still someone in here, an essential Rayness. And
that sounded nuts, but it comforted me. 

 So I had me mapped out. A bit, anyway. Wonder how long that'll last. 

 But what would I do with the terra incognita of Ben? Here be dragons. I
used to think I had a pretty good idea of what made him tick, but Fraser
as a friend and Ben as a lover seemed to be two different people. I just
got a bird's eye view of his insecurity and possessiveness last night, but
my dream's murder-suicide to keep me with him went a little extreme. Yeah,
being clingy boy myself made it hard for me to get too superior, but jeez.
Did I really see him that way, and, if I did, was I right? 

 I had to figure out what to do, because I was sure he'd come back. He
liked to avoid painful stuff as much as the next guy, but that sense of
propriety would tell him that what he did last night was too abrupt or
something. If I was lucky, maybe his heart and head made a truce, and I
could talk to him. Okay, I wasn't very lucky usually. But I knew he'd come
back. 

 I'd give him five hours before I went out trying to figure out where the
hell he'd gone. 

 That decided, I put on some getting-to-it music. Later I'd have to start
thinking of ways to keep myself entertained while I waited to see if Ben
came in, but first I needed a little education and dialed up the 27th. As
soon as Frannie finished her professional phone-answering spiel, I jumped
in with, "Hey, Frannie, could I ask a big favor?" 

 "Let me hear it first." 

 "You don't trust me?" 

 "I know you, Big Brother." 

 That was the first genuine smile that crossed my face this morning.
"Could you research something for me off the Internet?" 

 She sounded shocked. "Me? You want me to research something for you?" 

 "Unless I'm talking to some pod version of Francesca Vecchio, yeah." 

 "Well, sure. Okay." She sounded so pleased, so proud. "Is this for a case
or something?" 

 "Nah, but it's important to something I'm working on. I was wondering if
you could do a search on ravens." 

 "Ravens?" 

 "Yeah, the birds. Their place in different mythologies. What they
symbolize. That sorta thing." 

 "You know you can't believe everything you read on the Internet. It's not
like everybody bothers with fact-checkers there." 

 "I just want some idea of what I'm up against. I think I'll know the
useful stuff when I see it. I hope." Another thought hit me. "While yer at
it, could you do a Search on the phrase `one for sorrow' for me?" 

 "`One for sorrow'?" 

 "Yeah. I know it sounds weird, but it's important." 

 "Sure. I'll bring you a hard copy during my lunch. And you can just close
your mouth." 

 "You can't even see me!" 

 "I know you're avoiding the two-seven, so I'll make things easy on ya.
You want to tell me why?" 

 "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out already." 

 "I have my theories. I'm just looking for you to confirm `em." 

 "You'll have to wait a while longer for that. And I'll show up there when
I'm ready to. I could do it today." 

 "Gotcha, but I'm making it so you don't have to. You can count on me,
Ray." 

 "I know that, Frannie. Thanks." 

 "See you soon." 

 I've just been sitting back and letting things happen, which wasn't my
style at all. Time for that to change.	

 I walked the halls with a smile of anticipation. It had been two restful
months, but I couldn't wait to see my partner again. My friend, as he'd
assured me. I hadn't ruined things the way I'd feared. As I turned the
corner, I saw his back, and my grin widened. He wore his police uniform,
even his hat, making him a tall, lean shadow in all the dark blue-black.
He turned to face me. 

 It wasn't Raymond Vecchio, and it wasn't my Ray either. 

 "Fraser! Buddy!" Rachel Walker walked up to me and clasped me in a hug,
then started to move on in a moment that vibrated with deja vu. "You have
a good time up in the Northwest Areas?" 

 No. I refused to tolerate another substitution, not again. I had all the
Rays I needed or wanted. Instead of letting this go any further, I grabbed
her by the shoulder and spun her around to face me. She broke loose and
had a nightstick in her hand instantly. We stared one another down. 

 She slowly and deliberately hooked the nightstick back into her belt,
then moved her open hands out away from her body. "We need to talk!
Please," she said. Her eyes were wrong, pale topaz instead of her usual
dark green. "You haven't been fair to us." As she moved, her eyes seemed
to shift color to pale blue with gold flecks. 

 She had my Ray's eyes, his chameleon eyes. 

 What was I doing to him, to myself? "No!" Waking up, I nearly fell out of
the chair. 

 My God, that woman had even wormed her way into my dreams. As I cracked
my neck and stretched, trying to shake her out of my head, Diefenbaker
walked up and asked when we were going back to Ray. 

 "We are not." At Dief's whine, I said, "Because it's better this way." I
snarled myself when he called me a coward, but he was right. I was afraid,
had been even before I saw a rival for Ray's affections. After all,
everyone else I loved had left me. But once we met Rachel Walker, my
tenuous hold on my emotions had slipped even further. 

 She managed to embody almost all of my fears, a remarkable feat. She was
a better match for Ray than I was. She was a woman, which made things
easier for him with the world and his father. If he became involved with
her he could stay in the city he loved. They had so much in common, saw
the world through the same eyes. Being with her would be so much easier
for him. 

 Rachel Walker had no intentions of locking him away as if he were some
fairy tale princess. 

 But I loved him, more than she ever could. 

 Thinking about it did me no good, so I went out to get some exercise. But
my attempt to take Diefenbaker for a walk became more of a case of Dief
going where he pleased while I followed in a daze, lost in brooding.
Whether sitting in Renfield's kitchen or walking the streets of Chicago, I
could not shake myself free. The only phrase I could think of to describe
what I had done could have been taken from Ray's vocabulary. I had fucked
up. Fucked up totally. The more I thought back over what I'd done to him,
the more I wished he'd never had the misfortune of meeting me. 

 After giving up his life to protect Ray Vecchio's cover, he then gave up
his life again to stay in Canada for me. I repaid his generosity of
spirit--or perhaps his acts of self-abnegation--and love by trying to clap
him in irons and keep him with me forever on my terms. What was wrong with
me? Was I trying to sabotage myself? 

 I loved him with everything I had in me, yet love brought me very little
happiness. It left me mostly terror. 

 Diefenbaker came to a halt and barked, jolting me out of my trance. He'd
led me to Ray's building. 

 I knew inevitability when I saw it. Despite being completely uncertain as
to what I would say, I had to speak to Ray. He deserved that and more. I
swallowed all my trepidation and entered. 

 When I reached his door, I raised my hand to knock, but somehow the
thought of doing so depressed me beyond measure. Instead, I used the keys
Ray had given me. As the door opened, a wash of soft, nearly elegiac music
poured over me. 

 Ray stood in his kitchen and stared at his answering machine, listening
as it played, "Hi, this is Ray Kowalski. I hate these machines too but
bear with me here. I can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave
yer information and stuff after the beep I'll get back to you, okay?
Thanks." 

 He'd updated his message. I didn't know what that meant. 

 Dief ran to Ray and greeted him joyfully, circling him and nosing his
hands. Ray smiled and crouched down to ruffle his fur. "Hey, guy, missed
me, huh?" 

 To my surprise and relief, I didn't see Walker anywhere. Then I realized
what that meant. "She left you alone, Ray?" 

 Ray looked up and shook his head. "Jesus! If she's here she's a
home-wrecking slut, but if she's not she's a bad friend? How the hell can
anyone win with you?" 

 My God, after all my promises to myself, the first thing that came out of
my mouth as soon as I walked in the door.... "I'm--" 

 "She had plans to see Connie way before I had my eventful little night,
so I sent her away to keep her word. Comforting Ramirez's widow should
take precedence over my heartbreak." 

 I was ashamed. "I'm sorry. I'm doing exactly what I swore to myself that
I wouldn't do." 

 "You just lose it thinking about Ray?" 

 "Among other things. Ray, I've fouled things up between us in so many
ways, making you lose trust in me. I understand that and deserve it."
Whereas Dief, who'd done no such thing, settled into a corner and went to
sleep, instantly comfortable. 

 Ray looked so tired. "Ben, you showed you didn't have any trust in me." 

 My chest felt so tight that I could barely breathe. I'd ruined everything
even worse than I'd thought. In my terror that I would lose him, I'd
grabbed hold of him so tightly that I'd choked and smothered him. Thus
losing him. 

 Ray's earlier calm had fled, leaving only hurt. "I've seen you run
yerself into the ground keeping hold of something you wanted. Yer
tenacious, and you fucking outstubborn me. You don't let go. But after one
rough night, you dumped me like it meant nothing. Just gave up on us. It
leaves me wondering if none of this ever meant anything to you, and it
leaves me wondering if maybe you were unhappy all along and just didn't
think it'd be safe for you to leave me in Canada, where I didn't know
nobody." 

 Oh, God. "No. No, Ray. It's not that at all. No. I love you. Deeply. I
did it... I did it to protect you." 

 "Then why does it feel like ya ripped my heart out? It hurts like hell. I
can't go through this again. I can't be happy wondering if yer gonna throw
me aside for whatever reason at any moment. I'm with you, all the way, but
I need it back too. I need you to... to reciprocate." 

 Seen that way, what could I offer Ray? In my terror, I would either leave
him for our own protection or hold on so tightly I'd smother him. "You'll
want me to move out. I would, in your place," I said dully. Only God knew
what the look on my face must have been, because I had none of my usual
control over it. 

 Ray looked horrified, and he turned into a near blur of motion. I could
almost see his speeding thoughts battling one another. I fancied I could
almost hear all of them ricocheting. He finally asked, in a very soft
voice, "You would go back to Canada then, wouldn't ya?" 

 "If nothing held me here, yes." 

 "I don't want that! I just want to make sure we work on this. I want you,
and I want to make sure this problem between us never happens again. We
can do this; I know we can." 

 I refused to let even that small bit of hope lodge in my heart yet. It
hurt too much to think of it being destroyed. "I don't understand why we
wouldn't. Work on it, I mean." 

 "I love you, Ben." Hope rose up to nearly choke me at his words. "But if
we keep sleeping in the same bed, it'd be easier to let it go and not rock
the boat. We'd be right back where we started soon enough. Been there,
done that. I'd like to think I've learned better since then. But I'm not
gonna throw you out." It crashed and burned again. "Is it all yer way or
nothing with you? If you don't think keeping us together is worth working
at, at least be kind enough to tell me now so I don't waste time making an
idiot of myself." 

 "I want you, Ray, and I want you to be happy." 

 "You think those are, what? Uhm, mutually exclusive goals? I have to be
with you, or I have to be happy?" 

 "I don't...." 

 "So you were staying with me before last night despite the fact you
figured that just you being with me kept me miserable?" 

 The quirk of his lips surprised me into saying, "You're laughing at me."
It sounded petulant. "I'm sorry, Ray." 

 "I'm not laughing at you. I just want you to see that what yer saying...
that it doesn't make sense. I want you, and you want me. I'm happy with
you when yer not being a jerk. So just try real hard not to be a jerk,
that's all." 

 "It's not that simple." 

 "Journey of a thousand miles starts with one step every time." The door
buzzer went off, and Ray went to the panel. "Hunh. Not expecting anybody."
He pressed the button. "Yeah?" 

 "It's Constable Turnbull, Ray. Please let me in. I have some news for
Constable Fraser." 

 Ray looked at me with his eyebrow raised, and I answered with "Please let
him in, Ray." An intermission could do me good. 

 "Sure. I just buzzed you in, Ren. See ya soon." 

 "Turnbull volunteered to do something for me," I said. 

 Ray shrugged. 

 Fortunately, Renfield reached the door quickly. At his knock, I opened
it. He must have come on his lunch break. "This is a surprise," I said, at
a loss. 

 "I promised you a report, sir." 

 "Yes, of course. How did you know to come here?" 

 "I know you. Disheartened as you may have been, you would never leave the
situation the way it was this morning. You simply needed the time to
regain your strength. Thus I took a late lunch to give you more time." 

 It sounded possible. "Please come in." 

 "Thank you." 

 "Ray, I've--" But the living room was empty save for Dief sleeping in the
corner. I turned back to see Renfield. Although sympathy shone in his
eyes, Ren made no mention of Ray-related events. Instead he waited
patiently for me to ask him for his news. "Please report." 

 "Your Canadian postings would consist only of Toronto and Toronto, sir,
although they would make your postings sound like a great honor in
deference to your work in the Muldoon matter. Our superiors no doubt felt
that, given a choice of Toronto or Chicago, you would remain with the city
you've known for years. Conversations I'm ashamed to say I overheard
mentioned that you are not a `team player,' which in this case seems to
mean that you're not willing to turn a blind eye to injustice even when it
involves our brother Mounties. I'm sorry, sir." 

 There would be no forgiveness, then. "I see." I represented my own
ideals, not theirs. 

 "Forgive me for being so forward, but what will you do?" 

 "I don't know yet." 

 We stood in silence for a little while until Ren asked, "May I make a
request?" 

 "Of course." 

 "May I speak with Ray?" 

 "I see no reason why not." Though I didn't understand the reasons behind
the request. 

 "I simply haven't seen him in a while. The consulate hasn't been the same
without him." 

 I had to smile. "I'm sure it hasn't. You may speak with Ray." 

 "Oh, thank you." Renfield walked over to the bedroom, seemingly certain
of Ray's location. 

 I simply shook my head, followed, then opened the door.  

 "You and Turnbull are done?" I asked as Ben peeked in. What a
development, feeling awkward in my own home. 

 "Actually, Ray, Turnbull wanted to say something to you as well." 

 "Me?" 

 He sounded as surprised as I felt. "Apparently." 

 I shook my head. "Okay, I'll come out." 

 Ren poked his head in. "Actually, I wanted to come in and speak to you
privately." 

 Ben looked surprised. I just said, "Yeah, sure." 

 Ren walked in and closed the door, shutting Ben out. Made me wonder if
he'd try to eavesdrop on us. He could rationalize or live with the guilt
on some of that kind of behavior sometimes. 

 Ren still had the uniform on, so I guess he had come during his lunch
break. I might as well hear what he had to say since he'd shown up on his
free time. He didn't have to, after all. 

 "Hey, Ren. What's up?" 

 "Ray." He sounded a bit uncomfortable. "Benton told me something of your
problem." 

 "Yeah, I figured as much from some of the things he said. He's not that
experienced on the whole `talking about yer relation--'" 

 "Oh, no! That's not it at all!" 

 Wow. Must be important if Turnbull would interrupt me for it. Too rude
for him usually. "Then what is it?" 

 "He told me you saw things. That you had been contacted by what might be
a power." 

 That ticked me off more than him discussing our lovelife with somebody
else. Let's go share how crazy Ray is with the world. "He shouldn't
have--" 

 "I understand your difficulty. And share it in some ways." 

 It took a moment for that to hit. "What?" 

 Turnbull started to pace, then emphatically stopped himself. That
couldn't be good. "Ray, the Turnbull line generally consists of two kinds
of individuals. One kind is a paragon among men who serves his country
with utter distinction. He is a credit to his family, country, and queen.
This kind is the overwhelming majority of the family." 

 Ren stopped talking for a long silent while and fidgeted, so I prompted,
"And the other?" 

 "The other tries hard but tends to seem dithering, dim-witted, and
clumsy." 

 He wasn't any of those, not really. He just had even more of an "I'm from
another planet" vibe going than Fraser did. He came off as being
distracted by other stuff. "Ren--" 

 "This other lacks focus in a world full of distractions. Distractions
most people don't notice. A subset of this other consists of Turnbulls who
come to be considered insane." 

 Whoa. Whoa. "This other type sees and hears things?" That had me scooting
closer, perched on the edge of my bed. 

 "Feels `things' as well. All the time. I was fortunate enough to be
recognized early by an aunt who understood what it was like herself. She
was a great help, but there was only so much she could do for me. I'm
afraid that a moment of such distraction led to the very incident that
inspired the decision to transfer me to Chicago." Ren sighed. "Here I
learned what distraction really is, though I seem to be somewhat better
now that Inspector Thatcher is no longer my supervisor, as disloyal as
that makes me feel to say." 

 I remembered how much clearer and competent he seemed while the Ice Queen
was gone during the Volpe thing. He'd still been deeply strange, but he'd
also been more there somehow. 

 I couldn't believe we were talking about this all serious-like. I
couldn't believe that Ren-- Wait, actually that I could kind of believe.
"And there's no way to turn it off?" 

 "I'm afraid not." 

 "That's what I thought." 

 "But, Ray, your case is not quite like mine. Being in this city
surrounded by people and things seems to help you, while it can sometimes
make me so scattered that I can't get through the day without breaking
everything I touch. You also manifested it late. Wait, maybe that's not
so. Ben always said you had an incredible sense of intuition." 

 "That's just being a certain kind of cop." 

 "Perhaps, but perhaps not." 

 I suddenly remembered meeting that voodoo priestess that time. Mama Loa
or something. At first she'd just looked like any other person, but then
I'd started to see something... like there was more to her. Crime scenes
struck me like that. You have this scene, and you know something happened
in it a while back, but all you have is what's there now. You don't know
what's been moved or taken or added. But you can find out, because it's
all there if you know where to look. Mama Loa was kind of like that. I
started looking into her, but I got lost or something because the next
thing I knew I had Fraser prodding me in the head to get me back, acting
like I'd zoned out for some time. While she just smirked at me. 

 "I also was never contacted by one of the powers," Ren said. "Have you
given thought to the possibility that Raven might be your guide?" 

 I sighed. "Yeah, I have." 

 "Though you seem to have bonded with the sled dogs in a way that
suggests-- Well, I suppose it's possible to have more than one--" 

 "Ren!" 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. I simply don't know enough about your situation or about
the way such matters work to feel comfortable telling you precisely what
you should do or how you should think. I have to say that I'm impressed
that you thought to ward your sites with salt, especially since I might
not have thought to do the same, and I've had a little training." 

 "Training? You know some stuff that can help me?" 

 "Not much training, but perhaps it will help. My aunt had some advice
that might help you cope." 

 "I'm open to anything right now." 

 "And that seems to be part of the problem...." 

 "Huh?" 

 "I'm sorry. Never mind. I'm thinking aloud. My problem is that much of
her advice was couched in metaphors and similes, most of which would mean
nothing to someone raised in Chicago. I doubt stories about bears and
caribou would help you." 

 "Fraser's sure don't." 

 Ren smiled, something he should do more often. "I have it. Ray, she once
said that the best way to cope with such abilities and contacts is to
treat the experience as if you were driving a car that was sliding on ice
or hydroplaning. It's better to lightly pump the brakes and steer instead
of hitting the brakes hard." 

 "Because while yer moving you can still steer. If you try to stop hard
and entirely, you lose all control over yer direction and can wreck
yerself. I... think I get it." 

 "I believe that it does help, and the ability does have its moments."
Ren's smile gained a bit of an edge, even though it looked mostly rueful.
"I also believe that Constable Fraser found me unsettling this morning.
Everything is sharp and clear and focused for me that early, before most
of the city awakens. Like everything is right there in my reach." 

 "That must be hard to lose." 

 "It slowly achieves a kind of fuzziness as the hours go on, so it's not
an abrupt loss." But something in his eyes showed that he felt it deep,
even if the Mountie mask still looked unruffled. "I'll tell Constable
Fraser about my own abilities and confirm your own." 

 "You don't mind?" I hoped Fraser believed him. But I also felt like Ren
was making a sacrifice here. 

 "Please give me your hand." 

 "You going to give it back?" 

 "Ray." Stern but fond. 

 "Okay." His hand pretty much swallowed mine. 

 Ren closed his eyes, making me wonder if he was... feeling into me or
something. With how warm and solid and there he felt, it should have been
impossible for him to have whatever it was we had. He smiled, and his grip
tightened a little bit, not uncomfortably though. 

 When he opened his eyes, Ren had such love in them as he looked at me
that I felt kind of stunned. I hoped that Ben saw that it was the kind of
love Ren had for his aunt, a kin love, instead of making the same kind of
assumptions he'd made with Ray, because otherwise this would be one short
conversation. 

 "Thanks, guy," I said. 

 "For the hand-holding?" 

 "Funny guy." 

 "I'm joking, Ray." 

 "I wanna do that early morning clarity thing with you." 

 "You shouldn't. It might not be safe." 

 "I'll do it with you or without you. With, you can spot for me." 

 "You're set on it?" 

 "Totally set. Totally. Can't get more set." 

 Ren didn't look happy. "Fine. I shall be with you." 

 "Cool! Yer the best psychic friend ever." 

 Ren sighed. "But for the present, we have to contend with Constable
Fraser." 

 "Way to pump up my confidence." 

 "You will get through this. We just have to decide the best way to tell
him." 

 "Oh yeah. Easy."  

 I could hear the faint buzz of their voices in the kitchen, where I tried
to block out the words. Unfortunately, that put me in the path of another
temptation. Some of the papers sitting by the phone were obviously phone
messages, transcribed in Ray's expansive script, and I retained enough of
a sense of propriety to leave those alone, even if I had heard them last
night. The other papers appeared to be printouts, seemingly off of web
sites given the URLs listed on the pages. 

 I knew I shouldn't look, but my impulse control had suffered lately.
Moving his glasses aside, I ignored the messages and looked at the
printouts. I went cold as I saw that they concerned the many myths
regarding ravens. Ray had scrawled notes in the margins, some more
comprehensible than others. I silently read them. 

 "Usual European = omens foretelling of death, war, disease. Christian art
= symbols of God's Providence. Kind of goes against the rest, doesn't it?
Others = magic, wisdom, different levels of consciousness, tricksters,
shapeshifters, helpful at times but for selfish reasons and with a kick in
the ass, anarchists yet establishers of law, embodied smoke. All =
messengers, prophecy. 

 "Odin's two ravens Mind and Memory. Knowledge comes at great price. Odin
has two wolves too, Freki and Geri. Coincidence? Are there any
coincidences any more? 

 "One myth makes Raven the one who saves humans after great flood because
he's bored and wants new toys. 

 "Can burning sage really get rid of it?" 

 One note in particular confused me. "Tired of darkness, trickster Raven
sets loose the sun, the moon, and the stars. Eyes of Horus are the sun and
the moon. Coincidence?" 

 Most mysterious of all was what was on the final printed page: *One for
sorrow,
 Two for joy,
 Three for a girl,
 Four for a boy,
 Five for silver,
 Six for gold,
 Seven for a secret
 Never to be told.* 

 A Post-It note from Francesca attached at the bottom of that page read,
"Sorry, but this was all I could find on `one for sorrow.' It was on some
site that had a lot of nursery rhymes on it. Hope everything else helps." 

 Perusing his papers left me less enlightened instead of more. 

 When Ray's door opened, Ray and Renfield stepped out looking thoughtful
and nervous. It worried me beyond measure, but I resolved to at least
appear calm.  "A mind all logic is like a knife all blade. It makes the
hand bleed that uses it."  Rabindranath Tagore	 

 Ben had his petrified wood routine going, so he must have been worried as
all get out over what we were doing. What we would try to say to him
wasn't going to make that any better. 

 "Sir," Ren started, "I have examined Ray and found my suspicions to be
correct." 

 Oh. Shit. Big mistake. Strike one. 

 "Suspicions?" Ben asked, ramrod straight and five times less lively, with
a hint of ice in his voice. 

 I couldn't let this go on any further. "Look, he's trying to work his way
up to saying that I'm not crazy. I'm just... touching on some powers. I
guess like psychic stuff. And he knows this and figured from yer
descriptions that I was doing it because he does it too." Then I thought
about what I'd just said. "Wow. There really is no way to say it without
sounding like a nutjob." 

 Ren had the mother of all long suffering looks on his face, probably
because he'd lived with this longer. And stopped bothering to try to
explain it to people. Fraser had his polite, humoring, "I utterly believe
you. Totally. Uh-huh" look going. 

 "Is that true, Renfield?" he asked. 

 Ren took a deep breath and asked, "How did I know that you were standing
half a block away from my apartment? You didn't even approach the steps of
my building, yet I knew you were out there and went to fetch you." 

 A-ha! So that's where Ben went. 

 I could see Ben's brain trying to steamroll over it. "Chance." 

 "At exactly the moment you stood there. I was fastening my suspenders and
thought it would be a good time to go outside in case someone might be
about to leave the area without coming to see me first?" 

 Damn. Ren snark was powerful. He had to really be rooting for me if it
made him go into attack mode on Fraser like that. 

 Ren turned his politeness back on but kept the intensity going. "I
apologize for my rudeness, sir, but it is that important to me that you
believe me. Believe us, please. You're mistaking which is the cause and
which the effect. If there are any legitimate clouds on Ray's sanity, it
is from seeing what he's seen, not the other way around." 

 Wow. I didn't know he-- But of course he was impassioned. Ben was casting
doubt on Ren's experiences the same way that everybody else must've for
most of his life. Ren fought this for the both of us. I stood back and let
him, listening carefully all the while. 

 "It's difficult to believe." 

 "I know, but it's important that you try. Ray's wellbeing depends on it."


 That got Ben's attention fast. Gave me a warm feeling to watch. "Truly?" 

 "His needs are opposite to mine. Having a large population nearby grounds
him, normalizes him. Otherwise, his sight swallows him whole. I don't know
if he can be trained to shield himself, not this late in life. I certainly
can't fix my own difficulties, and there are few teachers to be found."
Ren looked down. "No teachers that I know of, actually. Even my aunt is no
longer with us." 

 Ben's face looked blank, but you could drown in the chaos moving through
his eyes. "You're saying that returning to the Territories would destroy
him." 

 Oh. No way. No way was I going to let anything kick my ass like that. 

 "As he is now, probably. It wouldn't happen immediately, but the silence
would start to prey on him with time." 

 He had to remind me about the silence. And I didn't really want to go
back to Canada. Unless I was about to lose Ben over it. Damn, this sucked.


 "You said that his difficulty is the opposite of yours. Yet you remain in
Chicago," Ben said. 

 "I am a Mountie, sir, and this is my posting." Then Ren crossed his arms,
showing that sadness again. "You know what I'm like here. I'm a leaf in
the wind, vulnerable to any passing current, incessantly distracted, and
that is with the meager training my aunt could provide. I would not wish
such a life on anyone." 

 When I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed, I felt the deep breath
he let out. "I'm fine," he said. "Thank you, Ray." 

 Ben just looked like he'd been pistol-whipped. "I'll give this some
thought." 

 "Thank you, sir. And now I must return." 

 "Did you eat?" I asked. 

 "I didn't have time. However, I brought a packed lunch today, and I can
eat as I work." 

 "You like blueberry muffins?" 

 Ren looked as nonplussed Ben did. "I do." 

 I brought him a muffin. Least I could do with him out to save my sanity
and all. "Mum made `em. You can eat as you go back. Take the edge off a
bit." 

 Renfield smiled. "Thank you, Ray. Farewell, Ray, sir." 

 As I saw him to the door, I muttered, "Remember about the morning clarity
thing." 

 "I don't think it's a good idea." 

 "Remember, I'll do it with you or without you." 

 Ren sighed. "I will. Tomorrow morning." 

 "Greatness. Now eat yer muffin." 

 "Yes, Ray." Once I had the door closed, I turned back to Ben. He had this
look on his face like the inside of his head was a total mess. Couldn't
blame him, since mine was too. More than usual. I had no idea what to say
to him now. Besides, we both needed some time to think. 

 "I think we do what people have done for decades when they want to be
together but don't wanna talk," I said. "We go see a movie or watch TV. We
were partners forever, spent endless hours on stakeout, so we know we can
spend time together without talking mushy or irritating stuff; it has been
done." 

 "That... might be wise." 

 He was just about speechless. That never boded well for his mental state.
 

 I didn't even know what program Ray had put on, though some of the names
that penetrated my fog suggested that it was a documentary about Canadian
wildlife. Then it seemed to turn into a program about sharks and then
another one about lions. 

 Ray looked so distant, lost in thought, but he gradually moved closer and
closer to me on the couch. Close enough to vaguely feel his warmth, then
close enough to touch him if I reached out a little. Finally, close enough
that our legs brushed. He seemed entirely unaware. 

 His presence so near to me distracted me from my wonderings on whether
the world had gone mad or I alone had, and which would be the better of
the two. Some of the evidence did suggest that Ray and Renfield had some
kind of abilities, so why did I cling so stubbornly to the idea that Ray
had been afflicted by a kind of madness? I'd accepted the unusual and
paranormal before and had what may have been dealings with Raven myself. 

 Perhaps because madness would be easier to cure. A little therapy and
perhaps some medication would do wonders, and he could come home with me
with no damage to himself. 

 I loved him so. I didn't want to hurt him any further. Yet my disbelief
hurt him too. 

 This onset of... whatever had just come on him so suddenly. Ray had
always been magical to me in his energy and allure, the alchemy of his
distinctive brain that forged bridges of connections out of what looked
like empty air, but it had been the human magic that came from within him,
not some outward influence expressed through him. 

 "Phone," Ray murmured, mysteriously. I heard nothing. Then the telephone
rang, snapping him out of his trance, bringing life back to his face.
"Shoot. I'll get it." He climbed over the back of the couch and picked up
on the second ring. "Hello? Yeah. I'm him. Fraser?" Ray put his hand over
the receiver. "For you." 

 I listened to the constable ask me about the dogs. For a moment I
couldn't fathom what dogs he referred to. Then I understood. At Ray's
confused look, I said to him, "The problem is that the sled dogs don't
seem to be responding to their names anymore." 

 "Oh, shoot. Give me the guy?" Ray took the receiver. "It's Ray again.
What about the dogs?" He listened to what the constable had to say. "Yeah.
Yeah, I'm sorry. I couldn't pronounce the names they had and it seemed
disrespectful to `em to mangle the words, so I gave `em nicknames. Mostly
after Santa's reindeer. I had a group to name so don't knock it. Of course
you didn't mean anything by that. I accept your apology. Okay, they're
Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Donner, Cupid, Vixen, Blitzen, Comet, Rudolph,
and Ned Neidermeyer. Ned also goes by the handle `Little Ned.' Really. You
ever see Three Amigos!? It's a movie, has Martin Short in it. He's-- Yeah,
that's it. Hey, can I say hello to them? Yeah? Thanks. Yeah, I'll wait."
Ray leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, looking very sad and
very tired. 

 "Hey, guys." Ray's voice warmed immeasurably. "Good to hear you too. Yer
being good, right?" His expression turned sad. "We all knew it was
temporary. I miss all of you. You were the best team a guy could have. You
be the best for the Mounties now, understand? Dief'll help take care of
me. Bye, guys." A long pause followed, and he took a deep breath. "Yeah, I
think I'm done. Sorry about everything." Ray listened for a while, then
put his hand over the phone and asked me, "Do you have anything else you
wanna say to him?" 

 "Yes, please." But my words to my fellow Mountie consisted only of
pleasantries and goodbyes, things that made up the lifeblood of my
existence but seemed insignificant in the face of Ray's obvious
depression. 

 When I hung up the phone I saw Ray sitting on the floor ruffling
Diefenbaker's fur, Dief doing his best to cheer Ray as much as possible.
Ray's eyes looked shiny, wet. "I miss the team. They were my buddies. But
I'm sorry I screwed `em up for other people." 

 I sat beside him and put my arm around his shoulder, rubbing circles on
his back. He rested his head against me. I said, "They're very loyal to
the ones they love. It wasn't your fault." 

 "I'm that way too. Loyal." 

 That made me briefly stop the comforting caresses, then resume. "Yes, you
are." I could feel the steady pulse of his heart through the cotton,
soothing and familiar. 

 "Damn. I can't believe I'm so frigging weepy." He pressed his hands to
his eyes and smiled a little as Dief pressed his nose into Ray's elbow.
"Maybe it's being tired. Was out looking for you until 7, you know. I
wanna walk. I wanna sleep. I just don't know." I could tell he was in a
state of "wired tired," as he called it, just from the restless but
somehow weak twitching of his limbs. 

 I felt a similar fatigue weighing down my body and clouding my mind. Lack
of sleep, along with overwrought emotions, had taken a toll of me as well.
As much as it pleased me to feel Ray nestled at my side, he would never
get proper rest in such a position. "Go to bed, Ray." 

 "Don't wanna." 

 "I'll make you hot cocoa. With marshmallows." 

 "Yeah?" But then he tensed. 

 "Ray?" 

 He took a deep breath. "Will you still be here when I wake up?" 

 I couldn't catch my own breath. "Yes, Ray. I'm done with running... and I
think that I can avoid my past mistakes this time. I'll take the couch for
now." In deference to his concerns over his past mistakes with Stella. 

 He nodded. "Okay." 

 As he had his cocoa and I had my tea, an only vaguely uncomfortable
silence stretched between us at the table. An improvement. The obvious
love in his eyes as he looked at me made it even less uncomfortable. I
felt myself relax as I watched the steam and heat of his drink lessen the
tension in his body. How many times had I watched him huddle around a mug
or container of coffee as if it provided a substance vital to his being?
The familiarity here comforted. 

 Though every once in a while the sight of his new/old hairstyle and new
shade would shock me anew, shallow as that sounded. I'd seen his blond
hair change shades numerous times, yet this much lighter, flashier one
left me flat-footed. Perhaps because I'd taken it as a sign of something
wrong the first time I'd seen it. While it seemed that Ray had simply
found his darkening hair too dull and inexpressive of his true self. 

 Not everything was about me. I had to remember that. 

 Last night Ray had claimed to have no complaints of me or our
relationship before I reacted so badly to his time out with Walker. He
truly wanted to be with me. I had to strive to be worthy of his devotion. 


 I couldn't sleep without Ben in my bed. I'd doze for 15 minutes, wake up
badly and panicky as I felt like I'd lost something, spend a lot of time
staring at the ceiling, then drift back into a kind of muddy, unsatisfying
half-sleep again for another 15 minutes. Doze badly, wake suddenly, stare,
doze badly, wake suddenly, stare. Over and over. And that was even with
how exhausted I was. How's that for sick and sad? I wouldn't have gotten
any decent shut-eye at all after he'd broken up with me if I hadn't just
passed out from exhaustion. 

 Poor Dief, he didn't know whether he should be in the bedroom with me or
near the couch with Ben. I could tell. The kids always suffer the worst in
these things. I was glad he'd stayed with Ben; I think Ben needed him
more. 

 Used to be me out on the couch when Stella was mad. Weird how life twists
around and bites you in the ass. 

 All this confusion, miscommunication, figuring out how far and much to
compromise.... Welcome to the circle that is my life. 

 Stella and me, we tried so hard.... I was chopping pieces of myself off
trying to make her happy, even though she didn't actually ask for some of
the changes, just because I felt like she was ashamed of or annoyed by me
sometimes. I did it willingly, but some parts of me resented the hell out
of it. Why wasn't I good enough, right? Not that Stella didn't give too
and make a few changes of her own, but it never seemed to be enough for
either of us. 

 Then our hours were a problem. With our jobs, we didn't get to be in the
apartment at the same time very often. When we were, we were too tired to
do much. 

 And I kept things from her. Not like affairs or anything--I'd never
betray her--just what my days were like at first. I mean, she saw the
ugliness of life in her job too, but by the time it reached her it was
dressed up and cleaned up and processed and blaming everybody else for
what'd happened. Pretending to be civilized and rational. Meanwhile, I was
hip deep in blood and shit and death and hate and insanity and human
stupidity--the "stink of bad people," as my dad put it once, and never
mind some of the undercover stuff I did--almost every day, and I didn't
want to bring that home to her. Who would? But what did that leave us to
talk about? Not much, really. 

 Sometimes I came home feeling dirty on the inside, like all the ugliness
had seeped through my skin to my heart, and I didn't want to bring that to
her either. 

 What I kept from her later was that I was starting to drink to take the
edge off. The edge of the day, the sting of feeling like I wasn't good
enough for her and we were drifting apart. I didn't drink alone at least,
but at cop bars, telling myself it was socializing. I mean, as much time
as I already spent with these guys, too much sometimes, sometimes you
needed to be with someone who understood. I was improving connections with
people who would be my backup. And that's what I told myself. Made me a
cop cliche, but I used cop cliches a lot to get what I wanted out of
perps. 

 Then one night this rookie I was fond of--even after four months as a
detective, Walker was still a rookie to us lifers--came up to me and told
me I should live a little. Move. Get myself up instead of drinking myself
so far down. After I did the "I'm no drunk and I'm gonna knock you out to
prove it" thing--which didn't impress her at all, of course, especially
since her dad had been an alkie--I went along. Why not treat myself to a
cheap night out? Stella was working late on a case and didn't know I was
at the bar, so she wouldn't know I was out dancing. 

 It wasn't like going out dancing with Stella, no body-to-body,
cheek-to-cheek romance. That would be cheating on her. This was dancing
alone near other people. It was noise and adrenaline and normal people and
not thinking. Sometimes I went out moshing with Ray, and that really
didn't feel like cheating. In fact, sometimes we did a kind of undercover
thing in the pit, strong-arming the bully moshers into submission. It let
me either kick loose my darkness or feel better by, say, taking a
straight-edge away from some asshole, thus protecting people. It was
uncomplicated. 

 It was about being around someone who liked me as I was, who was like me,
and who didn't want me to change. No poses necessary, not like with Stella
or suspects or the other cops. I could just be. I hadn't felt so
comfortable being me in a long time. 

 I came home from it jazzed. So jazzed that I didn't stop after that first
time. Whenever I was really low, I asked Ray about places I could go so I
could move all the rage and disgust out of me. It always worked. Hell,
there were times I came home after going out... well, sometimes Stella
would also be in the mood and we would have explosive sex. Not that it was
ever bad between us in that, but after a night out... wow. 

 So this was great, right? Avoiding alcoholism, bonding with a friend I
had a lot in common with, making myself happy, making Stella very happy
sometimes. I let myself think so and ignored the rest. 

 I ignored that this great new friend of mine was a woman, a pretty one to
boot. Nobody else ignored it. I found Ray attractive--yeah, duh, I was
married, not dead--but I didn't love her the same way I did Stella, and I
would never cheat. Ever. Besides, I saw Ray as a sister, a mirror. We even
played a brother-sister team of killers on one assignment, story being
that we had different fathers to explain the physical differences, and,
hell yeah, we were real sensitive about anyone saying anything about our
Momma. Of course, I played her pimp once or twice too-- 

 Whoa. Way off the topic, the topic being that I loved Stella, I was
married, Ray wasn't my type, and I wouldn't want to date myself anyway. 

 Ray and I touched one another a lot, but the rest of the squad touched me
too, since I had my hands all over everybody myself. They touched me more
than Stella did actually, who wasn't that kind of person, and I'd wished
she would. I went out alone dancing with Ray, but we went out doing stuff
with the guys too. There wasn't anything going on, so I figured no one
would think something was going on. 

 I can be a blind idiot, yeah, what of it? 

 Stella put her foot down, and I guess I can't blame her for that, so I
shoved Ray away. I didn't want to, but realizing that I was getting the
sense of intimacy from her that I should be getting from the wife I loved
made it a bit easier. I'm not that dumb. 

 God, I hope Ray got something out of our friendship, because it looks
like I used the hell out of her. 

 I buckled down and tried harder to make Stel happy. I would have died for
her.... But tossing Ray aside had been like throwing away the drug that
treated the symptoms of the disease I had. With Ray, I felt no pain, but
the underlying thing was still there and growing. Without her, everything
that had still been falling apart kept falling apart, only now I was
feeling it again. 

 I figured that out about Ray years ago and knew enough not to start it
again this time. 

 No matter how much Stella and I loved one another, we were mismatched. I
saw it now. We compromised and compromised, but it looked more and more
like the only way to fix what we had would be to each compromise so
totally that the people we'd fallen in love with wouldn't exist anymore.
End result: we still wouldn't have been happy. Stel just saw it first. 

 Too mismatched. Sometimes love wasn't enough, and it looked like I was
repeating myself. Repeating myself with Ben. Even repeating myself with
Ray in a way. 

 But I didn't think Ray would bother him, not since he claimed to be a
firm believer in platonic relationships. "I believe they happen all the
time," he'd once said. "All women are our sisters," he'd said another
time. I figured he'd get her and like her; I mean, he'd figured me out
faster than anyone I'd ever met had. 

 But he didn't like her, immediately. He hated her on sight. And that's
even with the fact that, after our one enthusiastic twirl around her
living room, I barely touched her in his presence. He hated her on sight,
and it seemed more and more like he hated her for qualities he claimed to
like in me, which confused and worried the hell out of me. The hatred
bothered me, but no one ever said he had to like all my friends, so I
didn't let think myself think much of it. 

 I saw the jealousy now that he'd all but smacked me upside the head with
it. 

 Anyway, I saw him react to her, misinterpreted what that hatred meant,
and ignored it in my quest to get back in touch with my inner Ray
Kowalski. 

 Turned out I got back in touch with the Ray Kowalski who had marital
problems and needed to be walloped with the clue bat. 

 Fraser and I were really different from one another too, but that had
been our strength most of the time. We meshed, complementing each other.
Yin and yang. We weren't mismatched, dammit, just not talking to one
another right now. 

 Love wasn't always enough. But I could work at it.... 

 I had a clue now. I just hoped I'd found a clue in time to fix things. 

 The next time I turned on my side searching for a comfortable position to
sleep in, I heard something just outside my door. Shifting, kind of.
Creaky floorboards, shuffle of something. My bad eyes suck in a lot of
ways, but compensating for that made me rely on other senses more,
rendering me hell on wheels in the dark. Shifting, breathing... Ben. Still
here, like he'd promised. Ben was standing outside my door. Standing
close, maybe with his hand against the wood.... 

 Awake and miserable like me? 

 I turned on the light to give him some warning that I was awake and might
come to the door. Might open it and notice him standing there. I didn't
hear him walk away. Heart pounding, I got out of bed and walked to the
door, standing still in front of it. Almost missed the sound of his sigh
under my own deep drawn-in breath. 

 If he stuck around, I'd be even more glad that I'd turned the light on.
Stella and I did too many conversations in the dark in the last months of
our marriage. The dark made it easier to say things, but it also made it
easier to pretend nothing had happened in the morning. Dark let us imagine
each other's reactions, and imagine them wrong because we imagined what we
wanted to see. Those conversations in the dark changed nothing, made
nothing better. 

 The sex that followed those conversations, great as it always was, never
solved anything either. 

 And I'd really do anything to put off doing this, talking to him,
wouldn't I? Enough mental chatter. Still, my hand rested on the doorknob
for a few minutes before I found the guts to open the door. 

 Ben stood there with this raw look on his face, like he was strangling on
his heart. I watched him struggle for words for half a minute before I
grabbed him into a tight bear hug and rocked us. My cock reacted like a
trained seal, but this wasn't about that. I just held him like I thought
someone was going to try to snatch him away from me, not that my fear was
so far off. I realized I was sort of softly crooning to him as I stroked
the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. He held me tight too. 

 "Ray." He seemed to be gulping for air, struggling to breathe. "I love
you, and I don't want to lose you. I'll do anything I have to. Anything."
He trembled in my arms. 

 As much as that declaration gave me a warm fuzzy, it made me miserable
too. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do `anything' to keep me.
I don't want you to be terrified I'll leave. I want you to do things that
make you happy too. I don't want to be terrified that you'll leave. We can
work this. We can. But we can't keep reacting to what we think the other
guy is thinking and doing. Yer gonna have to tell me what's going through
yer head so I can see what I can do about it." 

 "There's so much you never told me about yourself." 

 What was this, tit for tat? "You think I tell that bank story to everyone
I meet?" 

 "There were three other people with us at the time." 

 "Ben." 

 "Well, no, I don't think you do," he said, his breath stirring my hair,
giving me goosebumps. "I mean, I never knew about any of the people you
left behind while you were undercover as Ray Vecchio." 

 "I went undercover to get away from people and things that reminded me of
Stella. Which makes it real ironic that I had to associate with her as
Vecchio, but I hadn't seen that little twist coming. When the hurt started
to get less, I kept away because I had a cover to protect and because I
was a real shit to a lot of those people while I was going through the
divorce. They were much nicer to me than I deserved when they saw me the
other day, and Ray should have shot me just for having the balls to show
up on her doorstep after everything I said to her before and during my
divorce. Thinking about people I shouldn't go see had been painful.
Talking about `em would've been even worse. That's all. I wasn't keeping
secrets. But dammit, Ben, I'm almost forty. Of course I have people in my
past. You think Welsh found me under a cabbage leaf the day before I
became Vecchio?" 

 "Well, no."  

 Of course not. I felt so foolish, even if Ray was trying to be gentle
with me. I understood all of those things in my head, but my heart knew no
logic. 

 At least my heart, along with my body, appreciated his nearness, his
warmth, and the feel of his fingers rubbing my back. 

 Ray said, "And Ray and I were never partners like you and I are partners.
I mean, we did a few undercovers together, worked some cases along with
other people, and even did an interrogation together once, but we weren't
ever full-time, one-on-one partners... because we were too much alike. All
instinct and flying into things. And our instincts didn't always sync.
Sometimes she'd be a step ahead of me, or she'd be two steps behind me, so
I know how frustrating it can be to be the person who doesn't see it. We
were just friends who had a lot in common and who didn't get on well with
our partners. 

 "Stan's a great guy, but we never meshed the way you and I do. He never
got me. We did our work, but not with the magic you get when you have a
partnership firing on all cylinders. And Ray's partner, Gambini, was a
nice guy who didn't mind strong women or nothing, but he always looked at
her with this total confusion on his face. Well, confusion and what looked
like the urge to put her on lithium." Ray snapped his fingers. "You ever
stop to think that maybe the reason why Ray and I get on like that is that
we're not involved?" 

 "I don't understand." 

 "Hugs and things are different coming from a friend. They don't have an
expectation of being returned amped up." Ray's eyes darkened. "If I hug
you, it keeps on going, so if I don't want to get tied up for a while, I
have to keep my hands to myself." He gestured in a way that suggested
frustration. "I don't understand where our problems are. I mean, you loved
me way before you told me. You said so. We were always seriously more
touchy-feely to one another than you can explain by friendship. Now we
have sex and live together. Big change, yeah, but I don't get how loving
me is so frightening to you this way." 

 "My love for you before was necessarily restrained. I didn't want you to
know. Now that I can touch you whenever I want, and I know you love me in
return... I have no control. It's all pouring out." 

 "You don't have to be restrained with me." 

 "Yes, I do. There are pieces of me you wouldn't want to see." 

 He sounded dangerous himself. "I won't know that unless I see `em first.
I'm selfish. I want all of you." 

 I didn't know whether to purr or back away. But perhaps he understood
after all. "That explains my obsessions with your past. I want all of you
too. Past as well as present." 

 Ray closed his eyes, looking vulnerable. "And future?" 

 "Yes." My voice sounded husky, rough, as if I had to force it up from the
bottom of my body. 

 I could feel a wealth of emotion in his kiss. "Me too," he said. "Love
you so much." 

 His kisses contained an affection, desperation, and passion that would
not be denied. My clasp on him tightened as I parted my lips so I could
taste his tongue. It felt like forever since I'd last touched him this
way; I would not count the near mauling I'd subjected him to in my jealous
possessiveness over his night out with Walker. Despite how closely we were
entangled, it wasn't enough. I needed to reconnect with him, to bury
myself within him, to feel him thrusting up inside me.... 

 Ray stiffened and murmured, "Can't. Not yet," against my mouth. "Night
resolves nothing. Never does." 

 He made no sense to me at first, then I understood. Our troubles resolved
too soon, and at a desperate time of day. He wanted to see if I felt the
same come daylight. As much as the fever I had for him demanded we keep
going, my love said otherwise. 

 I kissed him gently. "Tomorrow." 

 "Yeah, yeah. You have to understand; I did the night confessions thing
too many times before, and it only ever looks like it works, and that's
only at first...." 

 "I understand." 

 "Tomorrow, Ben. Or today, considering how late it is. We can wait a few
hours?" 

 "You're worth the wait." 

 He grinned and kissed the tip of my nose. 

 "I will resume my slumber on the couch," I said, helping him to avoid
doing anything he'd regret later. 

 He looked torn and licked his lips. "Yeah, thanks. Good night, Ben.
Morning'll be soon." 

 "I love you, Ray." 

 He looked hopeful and pleased as he closed his bedroom door, watching me
until he couldn't any longer. I took that image of him with me into my
dreams.  

 My eyes jerked open. Somebody tapped my shoulder? No, I was alone in bed
at... 5:30 a.m. What the hell woke-- Oh, yeah. I wanted to try out that
early morning thing with Ren. 

 Did he tap me awake somehow? Oh, scary thought. Stupid thought. Better
now. Still felt kind of funky though, groggy and lost. I wasn't a morning
person. 

 I dressed quietly and tiptoed past Ben on the couch, barely restraining
the urge to kiss him on my way out, which would have defeated the purpose
of tiptoeing. I could do all of that with him later. Couldn't wait. I felt
like I'd finally gotten it right. 

 Of course I wouldn't know for sure until he woke up and spoke to me, but
I had a feeling. 

 When I reached the door outside, Ren already stood out there waiting to
be let into the building. Almost didn't recognize him, even aside from him
being in civvies. He had this sharp, clear, focused look in his eyes, like
he tracked on everything around him. Everything. I saw it now. 

 "I'm not certain this is a good idea, Ray," he said. 

 "You don't know?" 

 "I don't know everything." 

 "I thought Mounties weren't allowed to say that." 

 "Ray." 

 "I wanted to give this a try. Thanks for coming by this early on yer day
off." 

 "You said you would do it whether I showed up or not." 

 I shrugged. I needed to see this for myself. "I'm glad you agreed to be
my spotter." 

 "I'm always awake at this time anyway." 

 Given how he said being like this made him feel, I understood, but I
still said, "Yer a freak." 

 Smiling, he took it exactly the way I meant it. "Granted." 

 As we went up to the roof, he said, "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"


 Shit. "Yer saying you woke me up?" 

 Ren fidgeted. "Not as such." 

 Moments like this, I understood all too well why Ben wished he could give
his brain a shower when I started in on this stuff. "You didn't interrupt
anything important. I was having this dull dream of riding the El and
looking out at the city. I never have any cool dreams." 

 It felt colder on the roof, and the rising morning light gave everything
that sharp-edged look, made it pop out at you in three dimensions. It made
me yawn and stretch and want to go back to bed. Ideally, back to a bed
that had Ben in it, but that wouldn't be happening either. At least not
yet. 

 Ren had this hopeful look, like he wanted me to decide to chuck it all
and hit the sheets again. He looked worried too. 

 Instead of giving up, I asked, "What do I do?" I shook my head, trying to
get this weird kind of white noise buzz out of it. 

 "It just happens to me. I don't do anything." 

 Now that I thought of it, the city did feel different. Too quiet, too
empty. People out there, but untouchable somehow. Underwater or something.
They made a kind of dull buzz, like an electric razor against skin,
instead of the right noise, which was the kind of mumble mumble you heard
in busy train stations. It was a different nothing than what I felt up
north, because this nothing had something just behind this wall I kept
hitting my head against. That frustrating untouchable bit. Made it bad in
a different way. 

 "Ray?" 

 Buzz, buzz. White noise, as cold and endless as the snow. White. 

 "Ray?" 

 Out.  

 I woke to Diefenbaker shoving his nose into my face. "Dief, what--" He
was insistent that I wake and get Ray. Ray was doing something dangerous.
"How would you know that?" He just did. Dief said that Ray had left the
apartment recently smelling of nervousness and determination. Without
waking me up. That hurt. "That doesn't mean he's in peril." Dief knew that
Ray was about to stick his nose into a hole, a deep, dangerous one. I
wouldn't understand, Dief told me. Just get up. Hurry. 

 If Dief were wrong, Ray would rightfully see this as another example of
my failure to trust him. But I couldn't afford to take the chance that
Dief might be right. 

 I threw on a coat and boots, then followed him into the hall. He led me
downstairs to the door, then turned around and had us ascending again the
way we came, which had me biting my tongue against saying something
sarcastic until we passed Ray's floor and kept going. To the roof. What
could Ray possibly be up to on the roof? 

 As I opened the door, I heard, "Ray! Ray? Ray, please." Renfield's voice?
"Ray!" Then, muttered with horror, "Oh, shit." I just about flew through
the doorway to get outside. 

 I saw Renfield's back as he crouched near a wall and the sprawl of Ray's
outstretched legs. Limp, eyes closed, Ray had been propped against that
wall, with Renfield's hands at the sides of his face. He was so pale, so
still, exanimate.... 

 When Turnbull saw me, he made no excuses, instead saying, "Please help
him. Maybe you can," as he stepped out of my way. 

 I straddled Ray, heartsick over how different this was from the other
times. I could feel the slow pulse of his blood just under the skin of his
neck. Slow pulse, slow breathing, eyes moving beneath his lids. Otherwise,
he was still and unresponsive, as if in a coma, the embodiment of several
of my worst nightmares combined. 

 "Sir, you have to bring him back," Turnbull said. 

 "And how did he get like this to begin with?" I demanded, barely holding
my rage in check. 

 "He wanted to see if he could experience my morning clarity. I begged him
not to, but he said he would do it with or without me. Ray's nearby, sir.
You have to bring him back." 

 Not wanting to believe didn't render any of this false. I would do
whatever I had to. Ray could not remain lost, so near and yet so far.
"What should I do?" 

 "I don't know for sure. You have to call him back.... You might try
kissing him. Don't look at me like that! I don't know what I'm doing!" 

 I'd never seen Turnbull like this, so intense, so weirdly vivid, his
hands clamped down hard on his arms as if only they held him together.
Oddly enough, his desperation and horror allowed me to find a bit of
calmness. Neither rage nor hysteria would bring Ray back. Action would. 

 I leaned in, feeling Ray's soft slow breathing against my face, then set
my mouth to his, cupping his face with my hands. Something in me almost
broke as I felt no response at all. No movement. Stillness, all stillness.
If not for the autonomic processes and his warmth, I would have thought
him dead. God, I would never wish Ray to be still ever again. I closed my
eyes, unable to watch this slack shell of the person I loved. I breathed
into him and pulled his breath into me, creating a kind of circuit,
concentrating on him with all my will. 

 Come back, Ray. Please. I love you too much to let you go. Please. 

 I lost track of time as I breathed with him, sucked at his lips, cried on
him. I became so desperate that I started to say his name in that way I'd
adopted for use when he resisted my efforts to get his attention. Ray.
Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray.... Finally he shuddered, and his arms came up around
me, and he kissed me back with the full force of himself, as if someone
had restored the electricity after a blackout. This was a kiss, not me
mouthing his lips as I'd done to bring him back. 

 We clutched one another for a long time, kissing, my relief at retrieving
Ray so great that I didn't care that we had an audience. Finally we held
one another for a while, his body curled up against mine, his face turned
into my neck as mine was into his. He murmured, "God, Ben, it was so
fucking endless...." 

 I could only say his name, endlessly, relieved to the depths of my soul
that I had him back. And I would keep him. 

 Finally Ray stopped quivering and asked, "Where's Ren? He-- Don't look
like that. I made him help me. I would have done it alone otherwise." 

 I didn't want to get up or let Ray go, but we could hardly remain out
here forever. Although I did keep my hand on his arm or back as we walked.


 We found Renfield standing near the door, Dief at his feet trying to
offer comfort he would not accept. Upon seeing us, Ren blushed a little
and said, "Once I saw that Ray would be fine, and you were... involved, I
felt it best to give you some privacy." Then he stood at attention. "Any
punishment you deem necessary, I will willingly take. And thank you for,
sir." 

 Ray nudged me, and I answered, "That won't be necessary. I've been told
that it wasn't your foolhardiness that caused this." 

 "Hey!" Ray protested. Very much Ray. 

 "Thank you, sir. I'll go now. Right now. Sir." 

 Ray put his hand on Renfield's shoulder and said, "I didn't mean to scare
the hell out of you, Ren. I'm sorry. I'm glad I didn't do it alone." 

 Renfield briefly put his hand over Ray's and squeezed, then nodded. "For
all the help I was you might as well have, but thank you, Ray." 

 Ray wilted a little. He felt guilty, though seeing even that was
inexpressibly precious to me at this time. "How can I make it right?" 

 "Swear to me that you'll never try that again." 

 "Yeah, I swear. It scared the hell out of me too." 

 "Goodbye. Please forgive me, sir." 

 "I do," I said. I did. 

 He nodded, then fled. Ray looked torn, obviously wanting to go after him
in his anguish but unwilling to leave me. Finally Ray said, "I think...
I'll give us both time to calm down." 

 "I think that would be wise." 

 I kept my hand on him all the way to his apartment, unwilling to let him
go. We said little. I suspected that we were in shock. 

 Once Ray closed the door behind us, I enfolded him in a tight hug,
utterly overcome by my love and fear and relief. In fact, I had to loosen
my grip on him for fear I'd break him. "Ray," I said, my voice husky from
the effort of forcing it through my tight throat. 

 "It's okay. I'm good, I'm fine, I love you," he answered, kissing me, but
he clung to me at least as tightly. "I did something dumb, but I'm back
now." 

 Our kisses became deeper. I needed him, needed him desperately. Ray's
fingers clenched in my coat, and his hips moved against mine, suggesting
reciprocal feelings. "Bed," he murmured as he removed his coat and dropped
it to the floor. "Want you...." 

 My lips barely left his as I tore off my coat and boots. Somehow we made
it to the bed, though I hit the doorframe on our way into the room. Ray's
hands reached for me, to stroke me and help me remove my long johns, but I
kissed his fingertips and said, "Please let me... let me...." I couldn't
find the words. 

 But he must have guessed my meaning because he simply settled back to lie
down on the bed, looking up at me with dilated eyes, watching my hungry
gaze take him in, waiting for me. I undressed him almost reverently and
wallowed in his warmth and the familiar, beloved texture of his skin. When
I pulled his shirt off over his head, disturbing his hair, he grinned at
me, and I had to kiss him again, giving him another opportunity to kiss
and stroke me back. 

 Once I'd stripped him naked, I set about reassuring myself that he truly
was fine. I kissed the tip of his cock, already hard and dripping, first.
I knew it drove Ray wild when I applied his four-letter vocabulary words
to the things we did, so I'd developed the habit of doing so as often as
possible, even in my own mind. I kissed his balls and stroked my tongue
across his perineum, smiling as he moaned and spread his legs. But I had
more unusual plans for him right now. 

 When I moved back up his body to kiss him behind his ear, he said, "This
is different." 

 "Not really. I'm loving you, Ray." 

 He smiled in an open way that made me feel like I could see right into
his soul, but his voice sounded light and flippant as he answered, "You
better be." 

 I kissed and stroked him. Everywhere I could. His nose, his jaw, his
neck, the sweep of his collarbone, the crook of his elbow, his knuckles,
his navel, the insides of his thighs, the backs of his knees, the knobs of
his spine.... I caressed or mouthed every millimeter of his skin I could
get to, wallowing in the scent and taste and feel of him, adoring him. He
was hot, alive, forgiving, mine.... Fine. We were both fine. I shuddered
myself whenever my hard cock inadvertently brushed against him, something
I didn't dare let happen too often for fear that I would be finished too
soon. Ray turned to liquid beneath my lips and tongue and fingers,
undulating like the ocean as he whimpered, calling me "Fraser" as he still
tended to do when I'd driven him completely out of his mind. And he still
managed to peel me half out of my long johns, his every touch jolting me. 

 I kissed him again, sucking on his lower lip, then said, "Ray." 

 "Yeah, yeah," he panted, his eyes heavy-lidded, his mouth swollen from
our kissing. 

 "I want you to fuck me. I need you to." I nearly climaxed just saying it.


 He bucked against me. "We need... we need...." 

 "Yes." I quickly stripped myself the rest of the way. I had lubricant and
condoms immediately available and smiled to think of Ray smirking at my
proper preparations. He nearly came just from me putting the condom on
him, barely holding back in time, while I had to prepare and open myself
by myself, because his fingers doing it would be enough to finish me. He
quivered and licked his lips as he watched me stroke the lubricant up into
myself. His avid eyes and heavy gaze burned into me. 

 I straddled and lowered myself down upon his cock, biting my lip as the
resistance gave way and I felt the pleasurable burn as he filled and
stretched me. It felt good, it felt beyond good, it felt incredible, and I
heard an obscene, greedy sound leave my lips as he brushed my prostate. 

 "Fraser, Ben, God," Ray gasped. "You look so...." 

 Then I flipped us over, putting Ray atop me, and said, "Fuck me. Make me
feel it. Please...." 

 Ray whimpered and started to thrust, sheathing and unsheathing himself,
the pull and friction of him moving deep within me making me lose my mind.
I was taking Ray's perpetual motion and energy inside myself. He kissed
and stroked me feverishly, reinforcing the thought that we were together,
one, and he didn't want me to leave.... My orgasm seemed to start in
various points-- my fingers, my toes, my spine, my cock, the place within
me Ray filled--spread throughout my body, and exploded out, with no other
stimulation necessary. 

 I clutched at him in every way possible, then felt him give one last
thrust that finished him. "God, I love you," he murmured into my neck. 

 Drowsy, wishing I could hold him inside me forever, I actually whimpered
as he pulled out. But he turned away from me only long enough to dispose
of the condom before wrapping himself up against me, the touch of his body
incredible against my sensitized skin. We kissed languidly until sleep
claimed us.  

 Light stabbed my eyes. I squinted them open to take in my
surroundings--cold me, bed, sleeping Dief at our feet, sleeping Ben
breathing against the back of my neck, loving me, with me, but I was
cold--before I grabbed the blankets and yanked them up over our heads so I
could get warm. Dief whined at being disturbed, but he had fur and we
didn't, so suck it up, furball. Once I had the covers on us, Ben kept me
toasty. This was right. I sighed and went back to sleep.  

 I awoke tangled up with Ray and very happy to be there. "Hey," he
whispered as he kissed my arm. 

 "How long have you been awake?" I asked as I kissed the tip of his ear. I
turned him around to face me, gathered him up against my chest, and
ignored the hard, afternoon light coming in through the windows. I had no
place to be but here. 

 Ray drew lazy patterns on my back. "Not long." 

 I'd come so close to losing him today, and I'd realized how many things I
hadn't told him and how many things I wanted to say to him. And I believed
now; how could I do otherwise when I'd felt how empty his body had been? 

 "I'm sorry I doubted you, Ray," I said. I had to say it. 

 "Don't sweat it. I would have doubted me too." 

 "I had less reason to doubt you than most." 

 He smiled. "This an Inuit story coming up?" 

 "No. No, this is a Benton Fraser story." 

 "Good. I don't get enough of those." 

 "Really?" 

 "Really and truly." 

 I found it hard to speak after hearing that, but I soldiered on. "You
know that I came to Chicago looking for the killers of my father." 

 "And stayed." 

 "And stayed. Yes." I cleared my throat. "The main point I'm making is
that my father was killed." I smiled myself as he petted me in a
comforting fashion. "Well... one Christmas after that, my father showed up
to talk to me." 

 Ray stilled. "Somebody came to you masquerading as yer Dad?" 

 "No, not at all. My father's ghost came to me. Only I could see him or
hear him. Then--" 

 To my utter surprise, he asked, "Was that the buzzing I heard?" 

 "Ray?" 

 "While we were trying to catch up with Muldoon, I kept almost hearing
something, like somebody was talking to me but from the next room.
Especially when we were climbing that mountain. Okay, when you were
climbing that mountain while I was holding on to you." 

 My God. "I was so afraid for you, Ray, when I heard you echo what he'd
said, afraid that you heard him because you were near death yourself. It
was reassuring to hear you attach that blithering about red ships and
green ships." 

 "Blithering. Thanks. Yeah, I heard him." Ray's eyes cut through me. "When
he wasn't talking about getting through the cold and the pain, he kept
telling you to leave me behind." 

 "I protested angrily." 

 "And didn't leave me. I don't think I like him much. Sorry, Ben." 

 "There were many times when I didn't like him either. It didn't stop me
from loving him." 

 "Yeah, I get that." It sounded as if he truly did. "So all this time you
were talking to your dead dad." 

 "No longer. With Muldoon's capture, what he'd left unfinished was done,
his amends had been made. He could go on at last... and be with my
mother." 

 Ray held me tightly. "You lost him again." 

 My voice sounded so thick as I hugged him back. "I saw them, Ray. I saw
my mother." He stroked my hair, and it felt so good to be armored by his
warm weight. I should feel ashamed that I needed this, but I couldn't
muster it. "I didn't truly remember how my mother had died until Muldoon
taunted me with it. Murdered. He'd murdered her. I'd rewritten it in my
memory and blocked it out. But I remember it now." 

 "No wonder you were so crazy at the thought of losing me. This has been
building for a while. You had your nose rubbed in how you lost yer mom,
you lost yer dad again, you were in mourning--" 

 "I wasn't." 

 "You were. Fraser-style mourning, the mourning that dare not speak its
name. I would have understood if you told me." 

 Yesterday I would have taken that for rebuke, but now I heard him more
clearly. "Understood that I used to see my dead father and now no longer
did? I never told you before because I occasionally doubted my own sanity
on that issue. That also explains my unwillingness to believe the
phenomena you saw. I trust you, Ray, but I don't entirely trust my own
mind...." 

 "So why would you trust mine?" 

 "I'm afraid so." 

 "That must be pretty lonely." 

 "Sometimes." I rubbed my eyebrow. "Buck and Maggie saw my father as
well--" 

 "But they're crazy too? Okay, maybe Frobisher is." 

 "I can be very silly at times." 

 "Sometimes. Not all the times you think you are." He rested his forehead
against mine, somehow communicating a wealth of affection with the
gesture. 

 It felt so good to tell him all of this at last. Knowing that Frobisher
and Maggie saw my father didn't hold half the relief that knowing that Ray
had heard him as well gave me. Ray would no doubt laugh if I told him that
I held him as a more objective arbiter of reality. 

 "So," Ray said, "all those times you got snippy at me and started
spouting off out of nowhere about bizarre stuff, you were actually having
an argument with your Dad, whom I could not hear." 

 "Not... not every time." 

 "So sometimes you were yelling at me about stupid stuff for no reason." 

 "Arguing with you, yes. But never over stupid stuff for no reason." 

 "You are the king of hair splitters. You should have been a lawyer." He
kissed me. "Love you." 

 "Perhaps you merely love lawyers." 

 "I'm over my lawyer thing. Replaced it with my Ben thing." 

 I could only answer that with a kiss, and Ray replied to that eagerly and
immediately. But as we became more thoroughly entangled, I heard an
aggrieved whine that could cut glass. Ray laughed. "Somebody needs to go
out." 

 I felt somewhat aggrieved myself. "If he's so certain of his superiority,
he can let himself out." 

 "Nah, it's a sign of his superiority that he makes us open doors for him.
Since I don't want an accident--or a not really accident--in my
apartment...." 

 "Right." As we untangled and dressed, I told Dief, "I will settle with
you later." He smirked and danced in response. 

 But walking outside with Ray was pleasant, with the May sun beaming the
promise of greater warmth to come on us. Ray had a jaunty bounce and swing
to his step, and he'd brush my hand and give me a quick, affectionate kiss
every now and then. 

 I loved him so and loved to see him happy. "Ray." 

 "Uh-oh. That's yer serious, earnest voice." 

 "I want to stay here." 

 He smirked. "In the park?" 

 "In Chicago. With you." My path had actually been clear for some time;
I'd just ignored it as I'd ignored the signs of Ray's condition. 

 Ray stood stock-still. "Yeah?" 

 "Yes." 

 "For real. Not just because yer afraid you'll lose me otherwise." 

 "Chicago has its amenities." 

 His good mood faded completely. "Which means `no.'" 

 I sighed. "I want to be with you, and we've seen that you need a wide
population around you to function well. You have that here, at home." 

 "You ever think that maybe my problem up there was that we just tried too
much too fast? You didn't teach me to swim by dropping me into the nine
foot section of the pool the first time." Ray's hands moved, trying to
convince me through vehemence as well as words. 

 "I saw what happened to you this morning while reaching out amidst a
sleeping populace. Can you guarantee that if we returned to the parts of
Canada I call home, where there's almost no one around for kilometers all
day long, that it would never happen again?" 

 "I am not... handicapped or something! I just have to toughen up." 

 It amazed me that after everything that had happened he still thought of
me first, still intended to sacrifice himself to make me happy. "No,
you're not handicapped. No, it is not a matter of `toughening up.' It's a
matter of you letting me do what's right for you." 

 "I've transplanted before, started over. I did it for the Vecchio job. I
can do it for you." 

 "Ray...." 

 "I saw how you looked after we got off that plane!" 

 "Yes, I was happy. But the wilderness I love would only be a large,
lonely cage without you. As much as I miss that land, you and Ray Vecchio
have taught me to enjoy company. No, more than that, to crave company,
companionship. I started to understand that while on our quest for
Franklin's hand. I was `home' because you were there. And I love you too
much to risk you again." I felt my thoughts come together as I spoke them,
the words giving them shape and form. This was how I felt. 

 Taking a deep breath, Ray looked down, obviously thinking, obviously
unhappy. "You've made up yer mind?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Don't intend to change it?" 

 "No." 

 He looked raw and vulnerable standing there. "I want you to be happy,
Ben. Can you be happy here?" 

 "Yes. Ray, I can help so many people here. And I really should
reestablish contact with my old neighbors, whom I've neglected terribly." 

 "There are lots of people who love you here. Other than just me," Ray
said with a wry twist to his mouth. 

 "I'm coming to understand that." 

 "You know... we can still go up to visit now and then. Try me out up
there." 

 "Yes, but it's time for me to stop drifting and create a corporeal home,
a place for us." I had sworn to tell Ray the truth.... "And I'd have to
find a new profession in Canada anyway." 

 "What?" Ray asked. "Yer a Mountie." 

 "I'd have to be a Mountie in Toronto if I eschewed Chicago. I'd rather
quit. Given the choice of Toronto and Chicago, I'd prefer Chicago. So you
shouldn't worry that I'm passing up a chance to be the kind of Mountie I
wish to be in Canada." 

 "Those sons of-- I fucking hate them." 

 "I'm coming around to that point of view." 

 "You want to stay. In Chicago." 

 "Yes. I believe I've said that before." 

 "Okay. So tomorrow we go visit the 27th and see if they wanna keep me on
as Ray Kowalski. It'd be easier if you could work with a group that
already knows you. If... if you still wanna work with me like that." 

 "More than anything." 

 He hugged me. "I feel better having all of that decided. Do you feel
better?" 

 "Much." Truly. 

 Then he pulled away. "Uhm, should we separate Dief from that poodle?" 

 I sighed. "That would probably be best."  

 We ate a little, then had sex. Than napped. Then had a chummy talk and
more sex. Followed by, yeah, sex. In fact, we spent the rest of the day in
bed. We had to get our time in where we could since we'd be going back to
work soon. 

 Ben looked like I felt, like a great weight had been lifted off his
shoulders now that matters had been decided and resolved. It felt good,
like we'd reconnected. 

 Staying here. Like hell I wouldn't give the Territories another few tries
just to show that I could hack it, but I liked staying here. I had people
here. 

 Once we hit the point where we'd worn ourselves too far out to do
anything more than snuggle, I asked, because I had to, "You sure that
staying here isn't some martyrish act of self-sacrifice?" Like he'd tell
me if it were. 

 "I could ask the same thing of you about your willingness to return to a
land that's completely unfamiliar to you and drives you insane," he
answered. "I want to be here, never fear." 

 "We're both crazy, aren't we?" 

 "Indubitably." He kissed my forehead. "But happy that way, I think." 

 I smiled. "Yeah."  

 As I dozed with Ray in my arms and Dief at our feet trying to steal the
covers, I felt at peace, my direction and priorities decided upon at last
after this morning's clarifying scare. Though I had to admit that a day of
sloth and sex had probably helped my current mellowness along. 

 I'd luxuriated in sloth and sex with Victoria, but it didn't feel the
same this time. With Victoria I'd been involved in a feverish, obsessive
race to have as much of her as soon as I could out of the fear that it
would all fall apart and she would be leave me. 

 With Ray, I trusted him and had no fear. While I wanted to enjoy any time
I had with him as much as possible, I knew that I would always have more
time with him if he had anything to say about it. This morning, through
circumstances beyond his control, he was almost lost, but between the two
of us we brought him back. 

 I trusted him. 

 "Are you up thinking?" Ray mumbled sleepily. 

 "No," I said. 

 Ray chuckled. "Good, `cause we have a busy day tomorrow. Sleep's
important now." 

 I kissed the back of his neck, smiling as the close-shorn hair there
tickled my face. "Good night, Ray." 

 "Good night, John Boy."  

 The sun shone brightly on my day of resolving and fixing things. While
Ben lounged in bed and looked delicious--I really was corrupting the guy,
and in a good way--I dialed up Ray and scheduled a meet. Once I got off
the phone, I said, "So I'm seeing Ray in two hours. I have to apologize to
her." 

 "As do I." He looked unsettled, whether over the thought of me seeing Ray
or him having an obligation to apologize, I wasn't sure. 

 "You wanna come with?" 

 I could almost see smoke coming out of his ears as he thought about it.
Finally he said, "I think I would only get in the way right now. I'll
apologize myself a little later." 

 I shrugged and wondered if that meant "never." Ben told the truth as he
let himself know it, which meant that sometimes he could actually be lying
and not even be aware of it. I kept an eye out for those times. 

 Ray didn't know he felt like he had to apologize, and what she didn't
know wouldn't piss her off waiting for. She probably just figured he'd
keep on being an ass. 

 I hoped he'd show her differently. 

 "Where're we gonna meet?" 

 "At the 27th at noon?" 

 "Sounds good to me. What do you think we can do to pass two hours `til I
have to go see Ray?" I asked as I straddled him. 

 "I'm sure that I don't know," he said very primly, but his hungry,
slut-eyed gaze told me differently. "Perhaps you could give me some
suggestions." 

 I did, since he asked so nicely.  

 Ray sat on the step with an unlit cigarette in her mouth and played with
her lighter now and then. Her face changed every time the flame came up,
turning hard and almost psychotic. Personality change in the flick of a
Bic. No flame, Ray. Flame, psycho. Dangerous game. 

 "Hey," I said, hoping I could distract her out of it. Glad Ben hadn't
been here to see this. Who knows what he'd make of it? 

 As she smiled at me, she was just Ray. "Hey there. Deliver me from
temptation?" 

 When I accepted the lighter, I felt lines scored into the barrel. "What's
with the tally marks?" 

 "You sure you wanna know?" She took the cigarette from her mouth and
crushed it under her boot. 

 Damn. "I don't want to know." 

 "Smart man." 

 "Nice leather." 

 She grinned. "Friend's coming by to take me out for a spin on her hog." 

 "You look--" 

 "Like I can kick your ass or drink you under the table? That's seriously
the point here, Ray my man. You sounded weird over the phone." 

 "So that's where the ass kicking comes in?" 

 "Nah. It was just a fun image." 

 "For you maybe." 

 "That's all that matters. So what gives?" 

 "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and I've--" 

 "Started going through that midlife thing? I know guys get this
attitudinal version of menopause--" 

 If she started me digressing, I'd never get this done. "I wanted to
apologize to you." 

 "Come again?" 

 "I realized that I've never seen you as you, ya know? I'm apologizing."
Smooth, real smooth. 

 But she smiled like she got it. "I know. Apology accepted." 

 "What? I wanna know what you think I'm sorry for to make sure." 

 "Ray, nobody seems to see me as who I am, but you came the closest. You
identified with me, which is damned rare, and you never made the demands
everybody else made of me. You know. Slow down. Wear a skirt. No, not that
skirt. Sit down and shut up. Stop bouncing." 

 Been there, done that, myself. Except for the skirt thing. 

 "You know exactly what I mean," she said. "I'm not a guy, and I'm not a
`girl' in the accepted sense. But you just took me on as me, or as a
version of you, whatever, but it was close enough to what I needed. So I
kind of used you back. It's cool. Otherwise, I'd kick your ass for it." 

 "You used me? Bitch." 

 "Yeah, yeah." She smirked but quickly went serious again. "No, I mean it.
I needed somebody in my life who accepted me, for whatever reasons. You
showed up." 

 "You gonna tell me now what bent yer brain so hard? I know it's not the
usual after-undercover mindfuck." 

 "I can't tell you any legal details." 

 "Granted." 

 Ray leaned back on the steps. "You know what the Army teaches you? Well,
the general `you.' Me, it gave me an even greater hatred and distrust of
authority than I had when I came in, but what does it try to teach its
recruits?" 

 "Evaluate and kill." I answered her look of surprise by saying, "I
remember it from the time you ripped into that guy who thought he could
impress you by saying his cousin was a Marine." 

 Ray smiled darkly. "I was a shit to that guy, but if he was half as close
to his cousin as he claimed, he'd know how the armed forces feel about one
another." 

 "I particularly liked you talking about their `warrior mystique bullshit'
and calling Marines `bullet-catchers'. You said the Marines are trained
just to kill, but the Army trains you to evaluate and kill. It stuck in my
head." Then I thought about what she might be saying. "Don't tell me you
were working as an assassin." 

 "Nah, nothing like that. I just had a bloodier assignment than usual and
went into this weird brain space.... I always got the more dangerous
assignments because the brass figured I could kill to reinforce my cover.
This time went really bad, and I dissociated. The sociopathic freak I was
playing took me over. When the cops busted in, part of me was thinking I
might be able to use the fact that they thought I was a cop to nail a few
of them. One of them almost got my bullet between his eyes the moment he
identified." 

 "Holy shit." Color me officially scared for her. Damn. 

 "I knew then that I better throw in the towel. As for maintaining my
cover... well, that was a bit of a bloodbath too at times. Thus, the
therapy." Then a motorcycle pulled up to the curb beside us, and Ray
greeted the rider with a cheery "Harley!" She'd always had a gift for
switching gears on a dime. 

 The motorcycle chick sighed as she removed her helmet, revealing a mass
of flyaway three-toned blonde hair. "He's not funny." 

 "It's funny. I never said that Charlie is the comedian he thinks he is." 

 "Nope, it's not funny at all." 

 Ray grinned. "Ray, this is Maxine Quinn." 

 Oh. I got it. 

 The woman shook my hand. Nice grip. "Call me Max." She had this
big-boned, capable, sturdy thing going. Nice, generous mouth. Really
pretty, too. Dad'd like the sturdiness, since he'd always thought Stel had
been too skinny, and that skinny me and Stel having kids together would
mean skinny kids, which showed how well any of us understood Stella. Dad
was a prize even aside from being Old World, though he tried not to hold
it against me that, unlike most of his side of the family, I didn't look
like I could bench-press trucks. After all, I took after my mum. 

 "Some people always go for the cheap joke," I answered. "My name's
Stanley Raymond Kowalski. Call me Ray. Nice hog." 

 "Wow, you do understand, and thanks. Hey, we have room for one more if
you don't mind being really friendly." 

 "Shameless much, Max?" Ray asked as she rolled her eyes. 

 "You don't mind that I think you're cute, do you, Ray?" Max asked me. 

 "I don't, but my sig-o might." 

 "Then he's a selfish man. Oh, don't get all worried looking. It's just
that guys usually say their girlfriend or fiancee or wife or something.
The gender neutral thing is usually a dodge." 

 Jeez. I ran my hand through my hair. "Haven't been doing this very long."


 "Hey, it's cool. I'm bi. I know that being bi and looking like this makes
me a cliche, but I like looking like this. Fuck other people." 

 "Max." 

 "What other people think, what other people think. You have a dirty mind,
girl." 

 "Could you give Ray and me a moment to conclude our business?" Ray asked.
"Be right with you after that." 

 "Knock yourself out." 

 Once Ray had dragged me away a bit, I felt safe enough to say, "And you
wonder why people think yer a lesbian." 

 "Wonder? Nah, I know why. But, you know, people at the 23rd could figure
that I wasn't into men and that I had you as my love slave, with you
cheating on your wife for me, at the same time. When you're up against
creative thinking like that, what's the point in putting yourself out
trying to keep up appearances?" 

 "You have a point." I looked down at the sidewalk. "But are we good?" 

 Ray smiled. "We're good. You got any more apologizing you want to do?" 

 "I think I'm done, thanks. Max is waiting." 

 "Oh, she lives for this stuff." 

 "Ray." Amazing how I had Fraser's tone in my voice saying it. 

 "Yeah, yeah." 

 After we walked back, Ray waved as she got on the bike behind Max, then
looked at her driver and said, "Max. The road? In front of you. Turn your
head." 

 "But he's so decorative!" 

 "Max." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. She doesn't let me have any fun." 

 "You're cute," I couldn't help saying. 

 "He didn't mean like that," Ray said. "Now drive." 

 "Yes, Miss Daisy," Max said as she put her helmet on and started the
engine. "See ya, Ray."	

 Ray met up with me before noon, looking at once unburdened and slightly
worried. "How did it go?" I asked. 

 "She and me, we're good." He shook his head and directed his look at the
27th. "Let's get at `er." 

 Almost as soon as we entered the building, various members of the 27th
district drifted over to greet us or ruffle Diefenbaker's fur. We traveled
through successive waves of well-wishers. Perhaps Ray was wrong about how
news of our relationship would be taken; no one mentioned it. In any case,
I appreciated it that most of the women seemed less predatory now. Though
a few, perhaps seeing my orientation as a challenge, intensified their
efforts. 

 But Ray let no one stop our forward momentum, pulling me along in some
cases. Once we reached the squad room, one of the detectives called Ray
over. I moved to follow, but Francesca greeted me, and Dief had to flirt
with her shamelessly. I was apologizing to her for his unseemly display of
affection when I heard Ray. 

 "I wanna assure you of a few things. First, you will not become gay just
from standing near me or the Mountie. If you do, it's all yer own fault
and nothing to do with me, so don't bother blaming us. Second of all is
that I would never check out yer asses. Never. In fact, even if yer asses
were on fire, I would never check `em out. Or is that what's bothering
you?" Ray nearly vibrated with anger and looked ready to punch someone. 

 "Ray!" Lieutenant Welsh called from the open door of his office. "How
good of you to grace us with your presence. Step into my office." 

 "Yessir." He shot a vengeful look at the detective at whom he'd directed
his tirade, then walked into Welsh's office, closing the door behind him. 

 I wondered if Welsh's request boded ill or good, but I had more immediate
matters to address. "Detective Camara, you went to my funeral when you
thought me dead, which would indicate that you feel some respect for me as
a fellow human being. We have worked in the same building, occasionally
crossing paths, for years. Neither I nor Ray have changed--" 

 "Maybe he hasn't but you have. How could you let him ruin you like that?"
He looked utterly sincere. 

 "Ruin me?" 

 "Fraser, people don't come much straighter than you." 

 Somehow I managed to stop the laugh that wanted to escape my throat by
turning it into a cough. He had no idea. "That's--" 

 "We saw him looking at you way before you left for Canada together. Did
you give in out of some kind of polite thing?" 

 Whereas no one had seen the affection or lust in my eyes when I'd looked
back. Did everyone blame Ray? Did they think I had no mind or wants of my
own? "I can assure you that politeness had nothing to do with it. I'm not
expecting you to approve of our liaison; I simply expect that you will
give us the respect you'd give any other person." 

 "Fraser, we don't like fags here. If he comes back here something's bound
to happen to him, and you don't want to get dragged down with him." 

 I slammed Camara up against the wall before I even thought about it,
though the part of me that attacked him retained enough sense to hold him
there only with my hands clenched on his shoulders, not by leaning into
him. My anger felt so cold, so calm. So total. "Aside from being criminal,
that wouldn't be wise." 

 Camara struggled but couldn't get free. "You're nuts!" 

 "Perhaps, but you know that I don't take kindly to threats made against
my friends. I never have." 

 Detective Shikatani stepped in. "Calm down, people. Put him down,
Fraser." 

 I saw then that Camara's feet couldn't touch the floor. I let go of him,
and he jerked his shirt and jacket back in place, glaring at me. While Ray
would no doubt have followed a display like mine with something like a
gibe about not being as limp-wristed as Camara obviously was, I simply
stared back as coldly and blankly as I could. Camara stalked away through
the gathering crowd. I couldn't read the mood of the people surrounding
us. 

 "Is that the common reaction?" I asked Shikatani. 

 "Come with me. Show's over; clear out, everybody. Don't you have work to
do?" The detective pulled me out into the corridor and walked me outside
the building, pretending that no one was staring at us. Once outside in a
relatively secluded area, he said, "Some people freaked, but some expected
it or thought you were already together and didn't care. I'm not saying
that Camara and his friends aren't dangerous, but they're in the minority.
Some of the guys mouthing off with him just don't want to be seen as
supportive in public. Not in front of him." 

 I sighed. "Therein lies much of the problem." 

 "You guys coming back?" 

 "Ray would like to, and it would be more convenient to continue to work
with a group already familiar with me. I didn't expect this, however." 

 "Are the two of you going to be okay being partners who... you know." 

 Amazing how thoughts of sex reduced everyone to grade school children. At
least it wasn't simply me. 

 Despite the impertinence of the question, I decided to answer it anyway.
Perhaps it would help, or so my anger told me. If people intended to be
this uncomfortable with it, I was minded to give them a reason at least.
"My feelings are as they were, and we worked well together before." At the
look on his face, I said, "I wasn't an innocent, and Ray hardly seduced
me." 

 "Too much information." But he hadn't said it unkindly. 

 "Understood. I don't believe in physical displays in the workplace
anyway." 

 "That'll help. Place hasn't been the same without the two of you." 

 "Thank you." 

 "It's been much quieter." 

 From Ray, that would have been a joke. With Detective Shikatani, I didn't
know. "Oh." 

 He shook his head. "Quiet isn't necessarily a good thing. Just keep in
mind that you guys have friends here too." 

 "Thank you. Speaking to me like this won't cause you trouble?" 

 "I'm on Camara's shit list anyway. Might as well be for a good cause. Now
let's get back inside before Ray gets out, doesn't see you, thinks the
worst, and pitches a fit at everybody in his line of fire."  

 "I guess I can tell you now," Welsh said. 

 "Tell me what?" 

 "Your old friend Walker had been keeping track of you and what you did
here." 

 "What? How?" 

 "We were lucky about you not getting on TV much, especially lucky in the
Volpe case that no one had the bright idea of putting your mug up, but
part of you made it into media footage during the Spender thing. She
recognized your hands as you were holding the gun on him." 

 "My hands?" I'd seen the tape of the incident on TV, and it hadn't shown
me above the elbows. Guess it didn't need to for some people. 

 "The bracelet clinched it for her. So I got this call the next day from
her. Sort of a `remember me from the Foley case.' And I did, so I went
along." 

 I snorted. "Damned right you'd remember." He had a reminder of that case
standing in front of him a lot of the time. Saved me a lot of time getting
in good with my new lieutenant having him already know me and respect me
from the Foley thing. 

 She knew where I'd gone that early. I probably shouldn't be that
surprised. 

 "Then she asked about who the detective on TV was, and I said you were
Vecchio. `Tall, spiky blond Vecchio?' she asked, and I said it was the
very same. Since then, she'd call once in a blue moon to ask how you were
doing. She just about pleaded with me to let you do whatever you had to do
to make things right during the Botrelle thing. Not that she had to." 

 "You never let on." 

 "I wanted to, but she said there was some dark reason you two couldn't
associate so I should just keep her out of it. Do you know of any dark
reason, Ray?" 

 "Yeah, I'm afraid so." It was because I'm an idiot, sir. 

 I went into playing Vecchio figuring I had nobody left I hadn't lost or
thrown away, but it turned out that I still had people looking out for me.
Weird. 

 "I asked to get you for good, and seeing as how the 27th lost so many
people lately the Powers That Be might agree to having you here as
Kowalski even after you being Vecchio here for so long. It's not like
Vecchio's cover as the Bookman wasn't blown sky high. You game?" 

 "I have to check with Fraser, but I think it's a yeah." 

 "With Walker transferring in, I may actually have a real crew again." 

 Oh. Shit. "Ray's coming over?" 

 "Yeah. I know she's good people, so I'm glad to have her." 

 While I was having visions of the most lethal catfight ever dancing
through my head. I had to let Ben know that if we stayed with the
two-seven, Ray was part of the deal. 

 "We'll have to decide what we're doing." D'oh! Nice way to confirm
things, Ray. 

 Welsh gave me a look, then said, "As long as you're both professional on
the job, I don't care what you do when you're off it. Wait, I do care
enough to say that you better make each other happy." 

 Wow. "Yessir. I'll run it all by Fraser and let you know." 

 "Soon." 

 "I'll let you know soon." When I walked out, I felt something odd in the
air, beyond the tension I expected to feel. 

 Ben looked almost guilty. 

 God, I hoped nobody had done anything really obnoxious.  

 "What was all that about?" Ray asked as we walked out. 

 "I'm afraid that I lost my temper at Detective Camara," I answered. 

 "Yeah? What did you do?" 

 "I lifted him off his feet and pinned him against a wall." 

 Ray grinned. "Fantastic." 

 "It's not something to be proud of." 

 Ray made a rude noise. Dief snorted. 

 "It isn't, Ray, Dief." 

 "Yeah, yeah." Ray looked abruptly uncomfortable. "Well." 

 "Ray?" 

 "Ray Walker is transferring into the 27th. You still up for me returning
there?" 

 Oh. God. It figured. Of course. But I either trusted him or I didn't. 

 I did trust him. "That will not be a problem. I can control myself." I
could master my irrational impulses. 

 "Like you did with Camara?" But I could hear a note of teasing in his
voice. He wasn't entirely serious. 

 "I have less cause with Walker. My dislike of her is wrong. I can be
professional." I would resign myself. 

 Ray nodded. "So we're good." 

 "We're good." 

 "You'll tell me if it becomes a problem." 

 I couldn't help the irritation that crept into my voice. "Yes, Ray." 

 "Just making sure."  

 He would be fine with her. Yeah. This I'd have to see to believe. 

 And my fixing and resolving day duties weren't done yet. Once we hit the
park, I said, "Got an errand I have to run alone. Be back with ya soon."
Much as I didn't like keeping secrets, I still felt like he didn't totally
believe in this stuff, and his disbelief might get in the way of me making
contact. 

 "I trust you, Ray," he answered so carefully. Trying to be good and
unjealous. Trying to control his jumbo-sized curiosity too. 

 "I know." I gave him a very friendly peck on the cheek and smiled. As I
turned to go, Dief went with me. "Uh. I didn't mean for that to happen." 

 "All right," Fraser said, answering Dief, not me. To me he said, "He'd
like to come along with you." 

 It might be good having backup, and in past experience it seemed like
Dief could see One for Sorrow, so.... "Okay. No problem. See you later.
Love you." 

 It was nippy out by Chicago spring standards but felt like a cakewalk
after being in the Great White North. I soaked it all in. I didn't know if
it was being in Chicago or just being in a city, but I felt better, more
like myself here. Up. 

 Dief seemed to be liking it too, and why not? Donuts didn't run wild in
the Territories. 

 I stopped in an isolated part of the park. Much as I hated doing this in
public, no way would I call the raven while I was in my apartment, not
after all the warding I'd done. Besides, folks usually try to avoid people
who talk to themselves. 

 Of course, that left actually calling the raven, something I didn't know
how to do. Usually he just showed up on his own and made a pain in the ass
of himself. I doubted that "hey, bird," would get me anywhere. Ditto for
"Red rover, red rover, let One for Sorrow come over." 

 Dief growled as a sudden weight settled on my left shoulder. "I always
liked that game. Watching it, I mean. It's not like I have hands to help
play it with," One for Sorrow said. "Told you you'd call me back on your
own." 

 I swallowed down my nervousness at having his beak so close to my face.
Him and his fucking games. 

 "Okay, so I called you." 

 "And why did you call me?" 

 Damned bird. "I was wondering about the way things have worked out.
Almost neatly." 

 "I like you." 

 "I'd hate to see what you do to people you hate." 

 "I've always liked you, and he always thinks he knows so much, at least
until you show up. That day when he first saw you at the 27th..." One for
Sorrow was cackling to himself as he spoke, "and you were trying to be
Vecchio and in his space and so attractive, he was just lost. Bam.
Confused, off-balance, in lust...." 

 "In lust?" 

 "You rocked his world, turned it inside out and upside-down. No matter
how many times it happens, it never stops being entertaining." 

 "Does anybody ever know what yer talking about?" 

 "I always know. If you want to get mystical about it--" 

 "Which I don't." 

 "--as much as his stiff-necked, have-to-enforce-my-sense-of-order ways
get my feathers ruffled, you two do something special when you're
together. Balance. Yin and yang. It works." The bird smirked. "You're a
duet." 

 "What does any of that have to do with the cost of tea in China?" 

 "You're such an impatient little bastard. Always have been. Would have
figured you'd learn some patience by now. Okay, here's how it went. If you
guys had professed your undying love before the Muldoon thing and Vecchio
coming back and you guys heading off to Canada, the relationship would
have started on a more balanced foundation, with you two as equals. But
you didn't. Instead, you--singular you--were miserable in the Yukon and
totally dependent on him. Balance gone. But you were too stubborn and too
much in love, you poor pathetic sod, while also somehow being too
oblivious to the fact that you were in love with him, to tell him where he
could shove his snowy North. So you needed my assistance." 

 "I never asked for assistance." 

 "But I gave it anyway, out of the kindness of my heart. And because it's
so much fun to mess with his unbeliever head." 

 "You made me nuts! Literally!" 

 "This sight isn't something you haven't had and used before. With time,
you'll get the hang of it again. Anyway, what happened to you forced him
to profess his love and bring you home, where the both of you could be
happy and balanced again. The events I engineered speeded up a
confrontation that would have happened eventually on its own. I brought
him around, helped you achieve some self-knowledge--" 

 "Yer really proud of yerself." 

 "Of course I am. I did good work for you. A little unpleasantness in the
short term in exchange for high future returns. You have Chicago and you
have him, and there was no manipulation on your part whatsoever. Your
hands are clean. Plausible deniability." 

 "I didn't want anything you did!" 

 "And that's the best deniability of all." 

 "You made us suffer." 

 "For your own good. Like you told him recently, you weren't born
yesterday. You should be old enough to know that life isn't fair." 

 Son of a-- The itchy rub of feathers against my face gave me an idea. A
stupid, dangerous idea, but One for Sorrow had pissed me off that much. I
moved fast, my arm shooting up, and grabbed a feather, plucking it out of
his ass, and pushed him forward once I had what I wanted. He squawked,
briefly clenched his talons hard enough on my shoulder to prick me all the
way through my leather jacket, and half-fell, half-leapt off me. Once on
the ground, he paced around, shaking his feathers, making pissed off
sounds that probably qualified as Ravenish curse words. The cuts stung,
but I had my prize clutched in my fingers. 

 Dief rushed forward to try to take a chomp out of him, but his wicked
beak waving made Dief back off. One for Sorrow yelled, "What was that for,
you ingrate? And I mostly mean you, hatchling, not Fenris here." 

 "You know what it was for." When I waved the feather around, I could
swear that one side of it smelled like sharp, bitter winter and the other
like thick, green summer. Green and gold iridescence ran through the
black. 

 "Do you think that means anything?" 

 I shrugged, then took out Ray's lighter. "Dunno. I could burn it and
see." I brought the tiny flame closer and closer. 

 "You wouldn't." 

 "Ya sure?" 

 One for Sorrow sighed. "Enough. Fine. Stop. What do you want?" 

 "Assurances. Yer promise that you won't do anything to or `for' me and
mine without my go-ahead. Conscious go-ahead, no coming to me or them in a
dream and asking shit. In return, I do my best to keep this safe." 

 "You little bastard." 

 "Always been a bit of a pyro, and I'd like to see how this'll burn." 

 "Fine. I promise. I promise I won't do anything to or for you and yours
without your awake and aware go-ahead. Happy?" 

 "Rarely, but I'm working on it." 

 "And you promise to keep that feather safe." 

 "I promise that as long as you keep your side of the deal I'll do my best
to keep it safe." 

 "Only your `best'?" 

 "I'm covering my ass here." 

 "Something I should have done better," One for Sorrow muttered. "You're
still one of mine all right. Now get lost. Enjoy your little victory while
it lasts." Weird how he started talking more and more like me the longer I
knew him. 

 "I do intend to." 

 Muttering to himself, One for Sorrow took off. I had enough self-control
to avoid grinning until I knew he was gone. Gotcha. 

 I noticed Dief looking up at me with big puppy eyes, obviously wanting me
to remember what great backup he made. And didn't that deserve a donut?
"Yer gonna grow to be as big as Fenris way yer going." Bigger puppy eyes
resulted. "All right, all right. Just don't tell Ben, okay?" 

 And, continuing my fixing and resolving, on the way back to my apartment
after my visit to the hardware store and donut place, I ducked into the
consulate and flashed my feather at Ren. He stood up from behind his desk,
his mouth open. "Is that--?" 

 "You bet," I answered. "Proof and a hostage against him taking any more
action on me." 

 Ren had an almost childlike sense of wonder on his face as he looked at
the feather, obviously able to tell it was special just from seeing it,
the way I could. I wondered if Ben would be able to see it at all. 

 "I'd let you touch it," I said, "but I really shouldn't, not when
everything hinges on nobody messing with it." 

 "Of course." 

 "I wanted to thank you for being such a big help and let you know that
we're staying. In Chicago." I looked at him carefully. "But you knew that,
didn't you?" 

 Ren looked rueful. "Not until this morning while getting dressed for
work." 

 "Constable." The quiet, iron voice came from the nearby office. 

 Seeing Ren's nervousness, I said, "Thank you for all yer help, Constable
Turnbull. I don't know what I would have done without you." I was sure
Inspector Iron-voice could hear that clearly. 

 "You're welcome, Mr. Kowalski. Remember that Canada is your friend to the
north." His lips twisted wryly at that, then he looked toward the office.
"Coming, sir."	

 Thirty minutes after I left him, Ray returned to the apartment, both he
and Diefenbaker looking very satisfied with themselves. "Did you get your
business resolved?" I asked. 

 "Think so." Smiling, Ray kissed my nose on his way to the kitchen. He set
a small paper bag on the counter, took scissors from the drawer, emptied
the bag, and set to work on something. 

 Curious, I walked over to examine his spoils. "Where did you get that
feather from?" A black feather.... 

 Impossibly, his smile widened, and it almost warmed away the sudden chill
I felt. "Finished business." He cut a piece of string and tied one end
around the quill, its stiff, pure white contrasting to the inky yet
iridescent blackness of the feather. I followed him into the bedroom as he
hung it from the ceiling in a corner far from the door and his bed. "You
think it'll be safe here?" he asked. 

 As it swung there, it was so glossy that it nearly glowed. I knew what it
had to be. "Yes, Ray." 

 "Cool." Ray walked to the bathroom and took off his jacket and shirts. At
times like this I felt infinitely slower, but I couldn't begrudge him this
happiness. Especially not when I enjoyed seeing him just about glow like
this. 

 When Ray took out a tube of triple antibiotic ointment, I had to ask,
"Did you injure yourself?" 

 "Not too bad. See?" 

 When he put my hand on his shoulder and shivered at the brush of my
fingers, I could feel the small swollen marks, as if talons had pricked
his skin. It enraged me that he had to fight like this. 

 It bothered me that he'd fought it alone. "I would have helped." 

 He leaned back against me and rubbed a little, cat-like. "Some things you
have to do on yer own, you know?" 

 "Not this, you don't." I took the tube from him. 

 "No mucus membrane stuff from pregnant whatevers, okay? I want my
ointment where I know the ingredients." 

 "Polymyxin B Sulfate, Bacitracin Zinc, and Neomycin Sulfate in a white
petrolatum base." 

 "Yep." 

 "I don't believe you can truly say that you know those ingredients." 

 "Better than mucus anything, Ben." 

 "Under duress, I shall use your treatment." 

 "Good you. Thanks." Once I had his cuts treated and bandaged, Ray hopped
up onto the counter, wrapped his legs around my waist, and drew me in
close. "Something else I hope I don't have to do alone." 

 When he kissed me, I felt his erection press against me, but I still
asked, "And what would that be?" 

 "Victory sex." 

 "I think it's safe to say that I'll be with you for that." 

 "Good."  

 When Ray walked into the 27th for her first day, I didn't reach out for a
"welcome in" hand clasp the way I wanted to. My last four days here hadn't
been too bad, with most folks being aggressively normal to me and Fraser
to show us that it didn't really matter to them that they knew we played
"hide the salami" together, but some people had been cold and Camara and
his cronies had been jerks. Kind of subtle for jerks, but still. It could
be trouble later on. 

 So Ray didn't need Camara associating her with me from her very first day
in. 

 She seemed to see how the wind was blowing because she just nodded to me
and Ben before walking into Welsh's office. Welsh called Shikatani in soon
after. 

 "You're good?" I asked Ben. 

 His eyes finally strayed from the office door. "I'm good." Uh-huh. 

 Eventually the door opened, and they all walked out. "This here is the
first of what I hope will be a bunch of new people," Welsh said. "Rachel
Walker, detective first grade, goes by `Walker' or `Ray.'" 

 "Can't we get people with other names here?" somebody asked from the
back. 

 "You'll take what we get and like it. Everybody try not to drive
Detective Walker away before it gets harder for her transfer back out.
She'll be working with Shikatani." 

 "Thanks, Teach," Ray muttered. 

 "Hey, be thankful I didn't make you give a speech on what you did for
your summer vacation. Now can we all get to work?" 

 Shikatani led her to a desk all the way across the room, far from mine.
Lucky break. Or deliberate planning. "Everything's going to be just fine,"
I said to myself, glancing at Ben, who was trying not to watch the
proceedings. Dief made a rude noise. "It could happen."  

 "Ray, have you noticed that everyone has been asked to work as liaison at
some point with Detectives Shikatani and Walker except us?" 

 Ray slammed the cabinet drawer shut with his hip. "Yep." 

 "Yes?" It disturbed me to think that Welsh knew of my dislike for her and
thought it would affect my ability to do my duty. 

 "Yes. People know you hate Walker. You hate the way she walks around here
like, you know, she works here. You hate that she uses Kool-Aid as her
colorful morning pick-me-up since caffeine sends her into orbit. You hate
the way she breathes. I know this. The whole 27th knows this. Hell, I
think other cops in other districts know this. And since a lot of people
trust your judgment, they're figuring something's wrong with her and
treating her accordingly, with Shikatani, being her partner, getting some
of the backwash. So of course Welsh isn't putting us with her and
Shikatani." 

 I was horrified that my admittedly petty reaction to her was being
adopted by our co-workers. "I'd never intended that." 

 Ray sighed. "We didn't mix much with Shikatani before he got paired with
Walker either." 

 "Still. Something must be done." For one thing, I still had to apologize
to her. With becoming accustomed to the somewhat offputting Inspector
Scott, my new superior, and making sure I paid Ray all the attention and
care he was due, the days had slipped past me. 

 Though I had to admit that I hadn't tried very hard to remember to make
amends either. 

 "Hell yeah, but I don't think working with them would do the trick. Might
make things worse. Fraser, most people are happy when they don't have to
work with someone they don't like." Ray had a defensive set to his
shoulders, everything in his posture screaming, "Please don't start this
again; don't make me take sides." 

 And he had been so good himself, amending things with Ray Vecchio. We'd
recently played billiards with him and Lieutenant Welsh, and Ray had
apparently had a wonderful time, with the teasing between the Rays
sounding playful instead of like a gritted-teeth prelude to war. 

 I certainly had enjoyed watching my Ray play. I found his intensity...
stimulating. 

 Maybe the lieutenant kept us separate out of consideration for Ray. And
out of consideration for Walker, who truly did seem to be a good cop. "I
don't mind her. Truly." 

 "Right. So you want me to ask Welsh to pair us up with Walker and
Shikatani more often?" 

 Maybe it would help. Wouldn't it? "I...." I couldn't continue to speak. 

 "Uh-huh." Ray picked up the file and turned away. 

 I had to try to make peace with her. For fairness and for Ray's sake.	

 "Walker, may I speak with you?" 

 "Sure, Fraser. Privately?" She had her own version of Ray's cool, fake
friendly tone, the one in which the target wasn't meant to see that the
bonhomie was fake. Only someone who knew him well could detect it. Ray had
another version of that tone, that was meant to be obvious, and Walker no
doubt did too. The parallels between them unsettled me at times. 

 That I loved him more than my life but sometimes wished to strangle her
and dispose of the body only added to my confusion. 

 When she led me to the closet, I tried not to see it as significant. 

 Once inside, the door closed and the one bare bulb turned on, she asked,
"What can I do for you?" 

 "Walker-- What are you smiling about?" 

 "That's your question?" 

 "Walker." 

 She shrugged. "You'd put your earnest, serious voice on, is all." 

 "I wish to apologize to you." 

 That surprised her. "Oh. What for?" 

 "I was inexcusably rude to you in the past. I will amend my ways." 

 "Okay. Thanks." The look on her face told me that she didn't expect
anything to actually change. 

 "Walker," I couldn't bring myself to call her "Ray," not even to foster a
sense of connection, "I think we can agree that our friction is mostly due
to our protectiveness of Ray." Her air of polite attention couldn't quite
hide her obvious feeling that I was neither as protective of nor as caring
toward Ray as she was. I soldiered on. "Our enmity upsets him. I propose
that we set our differences aside. I shall endeavor to be less hostile." 

 She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, and I couldn't help
thinking that it came from restraining the tart answers she wanted to say.
Instead she said, "That's good. There's no reason we have to be at each
other's throats. We can try, for Ray's sake, if nothing else. Shake on
it?" 

 She had a firm grip, though she didn't condescend to play power games by
squeezing hard. I hope my eyes didn't look as cold and hard as hers, but
they probably did.  

 Ray was bleeding far too much. "I'm fine, Ben. Work on getting us untied
instead." 

 "I need to keep pressure on your wound." 

 "What about yours?" 

 I'd taken only a gash to my forehead, but head wounds tended to bleed
heavily and I felt a bit lightheaded. I prayed that it didn't slow my mind
enough to prevent me from getting us out. "I'm fine." 

 "Ah-ha! See? Well, I'm fine too." 

 He was not. His shirt had turned thickly, darkly red near his rib cage.
He'd been shot twenty minutes ago. 

 With Diefenbaker at our apartment enjoying a day off, we could only hope
to make our escape ourselves or that the cavalry, in the form of Chicago
police officers, would be forthcoming. I thought it naive to depend on
outside intervention. Especially since our backup had been suspiciously
slow a few times since our return to duty. 

 When the doorknob started to rattle, Ray and I awkwardly slid behind the
small pile of crates that provided the only cover in the room. But the
rattling suggested that someone was picking the lock. Silence followed the
last click, the door began to open... then was kicked forward by one
steel-toed boot. Walker swept the inside of the room with her gun, while
her partner covered the door and hallway. 

 Walker reholstered her gun to call in that we were down and needed an
ambulance, then flipped open a butterfly knife and cut us free. She
whispered, "If Camara doesn't get a bureaucratic ass-kicking for sitting
on this, I'll give him the real world version. Jesus." 

 "Camara?" Ray murmured. 

 "It seems that he found out what was going down and that you guys were
involved. Good thing for you that the guy can't keep a secret for shit. He
got the stone face down, but his body language screams it out." 

 "And body language is something you're observant of," I said. 

 "Yeah. So I leaned on him until he told me." 

 "He always has his partner around. A few cronies too," my Ray said. 

 "Takeshi and I handled them." 

 "So you embarrassed him in front of his group," I said. "He'll hate you
now." And she did it for us. Well, more for Ray, but still. 

 "I couldn't get him away from his group, so it's his own fault I made him
look like a wuss in public. He hated me before. Besides, he's one of those
guys they invented the phrase `With a friend like him, who needs enemies?'
for. I'm not crying. Anyway, we called in the rest of the troops, and they
should be here soon. A few `phobic apples do not spoil the whole bunch. We
ready to move?" 

 I looked to Ray, who nodded. "Yes." 

 "Great. Let's get busy."  

 Ray's body lost most of his tension once we reached our apartment. The
hospital had wanted to keep him longer than merely overnight, but Ray had
signed himself out. I would have preferred he stayed to be safe, but the
wound truly hadn't been as bad as it had looked. Mine had been quickly and
easily treated, requiring minimal stitching and only a small, follow-up
prescription. Concussion appeared to be unlikely. 

 I hugged him as gently as I could and still put everything I felt into
it. "I know," he answered as he kissed me. "I'm fine, see?" Dief bounced
up to him and licked his hand. "Yeah, I love you too." 

 "Get some rest, Ray." 

 "Did enough resting in the hospital. Made me antsy." 

 "Ray." 

 "Yeah, yeah." 

 But then the phone rang, and Ray rushed to the kitchen to get it. I
sighed as he winced when picking up the receiver, but I went back to
placing our new prescriptions in the medicine cabinet. I didn't want him
to think I was hovering. 

 However, I couldn't help listening. 

 "Hey. Yeah, I just got in. No, I'm fine. Okay, okay, I got shot and just
came back from the hospital. Don't-- I'm fine. Yeah, our backup was slow,
but it arrived. Yeah, people can suck, but that's life. I don't know if I
want to make a big stink and go official with this. What? No, I mean I can
tell you have something on yer mind. No. Stel. Now is a good time. Stel,
you can't say that and then not tell me. My imagination is worse than
anything you can tell me." A long silence. "Oh. That's... good for you.
Great. No. No, I'm not upset. Okay, a little, but I'm allowed to be.
`Cause I'm really gonna miss you. Mmm-hmm. Yeah, I wanna see you too, and
Fraser'll wanna see him. In person and all. How soon can you get here?
Yeah, that's good. Yeah, I would have." 

 As I walked into the room, I saw that he'd gone utterly still, as he
tended to do when very upset. I wanted to put my arm around his waist and
draw him close but, mindful of his wound and the bandages, I instead put
my hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed. "Ray?" 

 He let out a deep breath. "Stella and Vecchio wanna come right over. That
okay with you?" he asked. 

 "Yes." 

 Ray nodded and said into the phone, "Yeah. Come right on over. See ya
soon. I know. It's okay. `Bye." 

 I felt him shake a little under my hand. "Ray," I said gently. 

 "Stel and Vecchio are moving to DC together." He put his hand over mine.
"Don't... don't get any ideas like I still thought Stel and me would get
back together again and you were just a placeholder or something, `cause I
didn't and yer not. It's just-- I don't even know what it just is." 

 So I would lose one Ray whether I remained here or returned to Canada.
But I had to admit that he'd seemed lost here, unable to truly come back
home after having been the Bookman. In the meantime, I felt my own Ray's
pain. "It's a big change." 

 "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Guess I better change my shirt before she gets here.
She was freaked out enough about me getting shot without seeing me looking
like a cast member of *The Texas Chainsaw Massacre*." 

 I felt again the urge to show Detective Camara that his behavior would
not be tolerated, but I didn't know if I could show him without killing
him. At some moments I wasn't sure that killing him would be such a bad
thing. 

 Ray seemed to know my thoughts, because he said, "I'm kind of touched and
disgusted that yer ready to go all caveman in retaliation. I know you mean
well and all, but I don't need you going off on him like that. If anyone's
gonna go off, it'll be me. And I'm not letting that asshole Camara win and
chase me away. Not happening. Now I'm gonna go wash up. Carefully," he
said, forestalling any objections I'd make. "I know the docs just finished
gluing me back together. But I have to look pretty for Stel and Vecchio." 


 Almost as soon as Stella and Ray arrived, Stella gently but firmly
grabbed my Ray and led him to a corner, then commenced fussing over him
from what I can tell. From Ray's body language, he seemed to be telling
her that he hadn't been injured too badly. From hers, she didn't believe
him. 

 Ray watched them and shook his head. "Upstaged." 

 "Ray hardly--" 

 "I know, I know. He didn't get shot just to get Stella all over him like
flies on honey. It just worked out that way. Looks like you got creased
too. You okay?" 

 "Just fine. I hear," I said, "that you and Stella will be moving to
Washington DC." 

 "Nice subject change, Benny. Smooth." 

 "Thank you." 

 "Yeah. Can you believe the FBI is giving me a job there? Some kind of
training and advisory position, since my Las Vegas assignment makes me
some kind of expert on going undercover as a Mob heavy now. Great money,
some prestige, and the chance to command feds around all day. A new start
in a suburb outside DC. What's not to like?" 

 "As long as you're happy, Ray, I am content. Though I will miss you." As
much as it saddened me, if leaving would do him good, better he left and
took care of himself. 

 "I'll miss you too. I just got you back after all. But I couldn't drift
anymore, Benny, and being in Chicago just shows me that I'm not who I used
to be. Pretending for Ma and Frannie is ripping me up, and they're
noticing that too. So that's ripping them up." 

 "So this move would be best for everyone?" 

 "Yeah." Ray laughed. "I almost wish I could take you with me, but you'd
probably bring the whole US government down the first time you found some
kind of injustice. Which might not be such a bad thing, but it could be
messy." He gave me a searching look and changed subjects entirely. "You
ever think about what things'd be like if you did a few things
differently? Not `you' in particular, but `you' in general. God, I'm not
saying this right." 

 "I think I understand you." I had a long list of moments I thought about.
"At times I think about it." 

 "You're a master of understatement. I wanted you to know that I wish I'd
reacted better. It would have given me more time with you." 

 It struck me to the heart. "I had some responsibility in choosing to take
that vacation." 

 "Well, yeah, of course you did. But... I dunno." 

 "I can at times be oversensitive." 

 "You? Nah." 

 I gave him a stern look that he saw through instantly, then said, "It's
possible that any answer other than an unqualified `yes' may have sent me
away. No matter how well you handled it." 

 "You were that crazy about me, huh?" 

 "Yes, Ray, I was," I said in all seriousness. 

 "Hunh." 

 "No matter where you go, I will always value you as a friend." 

 Rueful, beloved, Ray said in a soft, thick voice, "Ditto, Benny. Ditto." 


 "It's not that bad, Stel." 

 "You always say that." 

 "It's always not that bad." 

 She gave me her determined, "I'm here to help you" look. I loved Ben's
version of that one too. "Ray, you should take legal action." 

 "I want to see how things go first." 

 "It might be too late by then." 

 "I've made up my mind." 

 She had that "I'm gonna strangle you, Ray" look on her face. "And I can't
change it?" 

 I loved that look too, which had gotten me in a whole lot of trouble way
too often. "Nope." 

 "Of course not." 

 "Stel, I wanna tell you not to go." 

 "But you won't?" she asked with a slight smile. She'd let me get away
with changing the subject. 

 "I won't. I know this is the big time for you, Stel, and you more than
deserve it." 

 "Damned right." She smiled again, then turned more serious. "Ray needs to
be away from here, and I've been mulling offers anyway." 

 My inner three-year-old threw a tantrum that she'd be willing to shake up
her life for him but not for me, but I was better than that. "A fresh
start." 

 "A fresh start. Are you happy, Ray?" 

 "Most times. We're working at it." 

 "You didn't choose the easiest route." 

 The guy-with-guy thing. I shrugged. "Have I ever?" 

 She gave me her big, fond smile, which could still warm me from head to
toe. "Never." Then she hugged me pretty briefly. Goodbye. Finally and for
real. 

 It ached a bit, but not as badly as it would have once. "If he makes you
unhappy, kick his ass. Or call me; I'll come do it." 

 "I think you'd enjoy that too much." 

 "If enjoying yerself is a crime now, I'm living in the wrong country." 

 I watched her fight herself not to say anything about Canada. Since I
never liked to watch her fight anybody, not even herself, I just caught
her up in a big hug and held on for a bit. God, the scent of her Chanel
brought back decades of memories. 

 And that was all they were now, memories. The past. We were over, even
though I would always love her in some ways. 

 I let her go.	

 Ray and I watched my Ray and Stella. To my relief, he finally ended the
hug. 

 "Yeah," Ray said. "There are good reasons to go." 

 "He would never do that," I said. 

 "Yeah? Yeah, I think you're right. I really am gonna miss you, Benny." 

 "Has anyone said that you can't visit?" 

 Ray smiled. "Stella maybe, but I can get around that if it comes up." 

 Stella's eyes looked a little too bright as she walked over to us. "I
think it's time to leave." 

 "Sure." 

 "Hey, Vecchio. Can I talk to you for a moment?" my Ray asked before
taking Ray aside. I could still hear my Ray making half-joking threats
about what he'd do if Ray mistreated Stella in any way. Ray mouthed off in
return. 

 "Constable," Stella said to me quietly. 

 "Yes?" 

 "Ray... loves blindly and totally. If you get him killed through
carelessness or recklessness, I will make your life a living hell," she
said in a soft, calm voice that had steel beneath it. 

 I didn't doubt her for a moment. "It wouldn't be necessary, since I'd
already be doing that myself, but I understand what you're saying." I
didn't know how long I'd last in such circumstances anyway. 

 "Good. As long as we understand each other." 

 My Rays had progressed to laughter and arm punching, making me glad that
they'd attained some peace with one another at last. I understood too well
how much it could hurt to have friends dueling one another. 

 I had amends to make to Walker. 

 "I'll be seeing you, Benny," Ray said. 

 "I think you will," I answered. 

 Once the awkward goodbyes ended and I closed the door, Ray slumped down,
wilted, onto the couch. "I'm fine," he said irritably at my look. 

 "You're overdue for your painkiller." 

 "You too." 

 "I don't need one." 

 "Neither do I. Look, can't a guy be melancholy in peace?" 

 "Not if he has the pain and discomfort of a new wound contributing to
it." 

 He sighed. "Fine. Dope me up. Uh, Ben, you don't have to look so
enthusiastic about it." 

 "I assure you that I'm exactly as enthusiastic as I should be." 

 He smirked. "Oh, great. Scare me before you dope me up."  

 Ray murmured and rolled a little, so I steadied him with my hand until he
settled again. I dozed myself, petting his hair as I sat on the couch with
his head in my lap. The painkiller had knocked him out, but not before he
could insist that he was fine and he'd watch TV instead of rest in bed,
thank you very much. But I didn't mind. In any case, arguing against his
stubbornness remained a pot and kettle situation, reducing my leverage. 

 I picked the telephone receiver up after the first ring. Fortunately, it
didn't wake Ray, and my forethought had put the phone within easy reach.
"Kowalski residence." 

 "Hey, Fraser. How's Ray doing?" 

 I remembered Walker passing by several times to check on Ray at the
hospital in between giving various verbal reports and filling out
paperwork. "Fine, although his medication has put him to sleep." 

 "Ah, meds. They don't touch the pain, but they put you out so good you're
not aware of it anymore. Glad he's okay. I'm calling because I wanted to
give you guys some information on how today went at work and what Welsh
did with that bastard Camara and all." 

 Very considerate of her. "I'd say we're very interested." 

 "Ray's sleeping." 

 "I would appreciate it if you could stop by in about three hours to tell
us about your day. Would that be all right?" 

 She sounded surprised but pleased. "That would be fine. See ya then."	

 The door buzzer woke Ray. "Whuzzat? Oh, door." He licked his lips and ran
his hands through his hair, disordering it wildly. "Fell asleep." 

 "Yes, Ray." 

 "Wise-ass Mountie guy." 

 "I can get the door." 

 "Nah. They didn't shoot out my knees." Ray stood, remembered in time not
to stretch, and wandered to the door. "Yeah?" he asked into the
communication box. 

 "Candygram," Walker answered. 

 "Hey." Ray smiled, then glanced back at me almost nervously. It broke my
heart. 

 "Fraser invited me by to tell you how things went at the 27th today." 

 "Did he?" Ray looked back at me with a gleam in his eyes. I said nothing.


 "Yeah. You gonna let me come up?" 

 "Sure." Once he pressed the button, Ray said to me, "You invited her." 

 "Yes, Ray." 

 I had the distinct feeling that he would have thrown himself at me in one
of his usual displays of affectionate exuberance if not for his wound.
Instead, he leaned seductively against the doorframe and asked, "You guys
plotting against me?" 

 "What did you think we were doing all this time?" 

 "That's not buddies." 

 When Ray let Walker in, Diefenbaker nearly bowled her over. "Dief!" she
shouted as she wrestled with him. "I should get this kind of greeting
everywhere. Hi, Fraser. Hey, Ray." 

 "How was school today, li'l Suzy?" Ray asked. 

 "Educational. When're you coming back to class?" 

 "Tomorrow, but I'll be riding a desk for a while." 

 "Fraser coming in with you?" 

 "Of course," I said. 

 "Figured. Just wanted to be sure though." 

 "Drink?" Ray asked. 

 "Yeah. Ice water would be fine. Thanks." 

 "Sure you don't want a beer?" 

 "You got Guinness?" 

 Ray smirked. "Nah, I don't. Stereotype much?" 

 "Fuck you. I can be a cliche if I wanna be." She said it with no heat
whatsoever, further suggesting that I'd just seen an old ritual in action.
"Give me the water." She took a sip, then moved it away from Dief, who
either wanted to investigate the glass or share her water. "Not bad." 

 "Straight from the tap." 

 "Classy. You want me to get right into it before you vibrate through the
floor from impatience, Ray?" 

 "That'd be good." 

 "Sit," she commanded him, and he did. 

 "Ray doesn't do that for me," I said, which he responded to by sticking
his tongue out at me. 

 "I spent years perfecting my tone. Okay." She sat on the arm of the
couch. "I came in early this morning to try not to miss anything, but when
I got there Welsh already had the bastard in his office. Giving him a
private dressing-down. Good move, since making it all public might have
embarrassed and enraged Camara enough to make him do something really
stupid. Everybody's staring at the closed door, though. So finally Camara
and Welsh come out, and Welsh makes an announcement. He doesn't want
anybody to ever leave a fellow officer in danger again. Ever. He also
would not tolerate cops harassing other cops. Offenders would face the
wrath of Welsh." 

 "It doesn't seem like punishment enough," I said, disgruntled and
outraged. 

 "He's giving Camara the crap assignments for some time to come, and
Camara knows that Welsh and most of the 27 hate his guts. Even a lot of
the people who don't like same-sex couples didn't approve of you guys
being left out to hang. Thing is, Welsh can't let things get too official
or go out of the department." 

 "Why not?" 

 "Inquiries would take it out of Welsh's hands and into the laps of people
who might not be so understanding. If it gets into a major disciplinary
thing on Camara, Camara will start babbling about you and Ray. Even if
nobody trusts or likes Camara right now, the department will want to
investigate everything to be sure. Now, Ray could come out to the entire
Chicago police department and see how much tolerance is actually out
there, but even if the brass flies the rainbow flag for him, they're not
gonna let you two stay together. They have this thing against involved
couples of any gender partnering. They might also start looking into
whether a Canadian Mountie should be riding along and getting shot at
alongside one of their cops, no matter how successful the partnership has
been." 

 Oh, God. And Ray had this look on his face.... "You foresaw these
possibilities?" I asked him. 

 "I worry and wonder about things more than people realize," he said
ruefully. 

 "Then there's nothing to be done?" I asked. 

 "Didn't say that," Walker answered. "Things can be unofficially done.
Camara's not popular now, not with the 27 or even his own cronies and
especially not with Lieutenant Welsh. He has the option now of making
amends by working to show that he's not the type of shit who would let two
cops die. Or he can continue being a shit, get shafted by Welsh and his
fellow cops, and know that if he ever made any official-style complaints,
almost everybody being interviewed by IA to corroborate his story would
say that he's a cowardly bastard with an axe to grind. He'd hurt you, but
he'd hurt himself too. In fact, Shikatani was kind enough to tell him
straight out that he better hope that Brandau and IA didn't start sniffing
around Welsh for any reason because the whole 27th would figure he's
responsible for it. Even the people who don't like you two together think
Welsh is a damned fine guy and wouldn't want him to get in any trouble. So
Camara has to just take it. Though he did snarl at me as he passed my desk
that he would get me, and I snarled back what he could do with himself." 

 "What could he do with himself?" Ray asked with a smirk. 

 "I'm not sure I should say in front of a fine, upstanding fellow like
Constable Fraser. I'm sure Fraser would tell me it's anatomically
impossible anyway." 

 I felt glimmerings of hope for Ray's future wellbeing at the 27th, and
Ray looked happier now as well. "Thank you, Walker." 

 She shrugged. "No problem. And a lot of people really like you guys. You
have serious good will from the cops of the 27th, and they are pissed off
in your name. You'll see that tomorrow, I'm sure." Walker stood and put
her glass down. "And now I have to say good night, guys. I have a late
night dinner planned with somebody who may turn out to be significantly
more than a friend given the right chance." 

 "Abandoning us?" Ray asked with a smile. 

 "I figure that being gut shot will prevent you from coming after me to
check this guy out for me." 

 "Yeah, yeah." 

 Walker gripped his hand in a highly friendly manner. "`Night, Ray.
`Night, Fraser." 

 Ray tried not to look concerned as I followed her to the door. I said,
"I'm not going to kill her now, Ray." 

 Walker said, "Sure he won't. It would be stupid killing me in your
apartment. Very suspicious. So not now." 

 As I opened the door, I said, feeling her out, "You don't like to be
called `Rachel.'" 

 She smiled. "Never have. `Walker' is fine when you don't sound so unhappy
about it. See you tomorrow." 

 "Yes. And thank you." 

 When I closed the door and turned to Ray, I saw a very fond look on his
face. He said, "You make me very happy, y'know?" 

 "Then my life is complete," I answered. 

 "Then get over here and make me happier." Then Ray cursed as the phone
rang. 

 I picked it up and answered, "Kowalski residence." 

 "Hello, Benton. I heard from Stella that my Stanley was injured, and I
wanted to talk to him." 

 "Forgive me, Mrs. Kowalski. I--" 

 "I'm sure you tried your best. You're a good man. Stanley's always been
this way. Running into things recklessly. Even before he could walk. You
should have seen him as a toddler. And please call me Barbara." 

 I watched Ray turn red on the couch, no doubt sensing that his mother was
about to confide embarrassing secrets to me. "Please give me the phone,"
he said. 

 "Barbara, I'll be handing you over to Ray now." 

 Ray took the receiver. "Yeah, Mum. Yeah, I got shot. I didn't tell you
because I didn't want you there worrying. I love you. It's not that bad.
Painkillers suck. Yeah, Ben told them which ones I'm allergic to." Ray
spent an extended time listening quietly. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want
you or Dad to worry. I knew everything would be fine. I just wanted to get
out of there. Yeah, Stella told me about DC." Another silence, then Ray
put his hand over his eyes. I sat next to him, and he leaned against me.
"It's not like that with us anymore. Yeah, even if I will always love her.
This is a good opportunity for her. Mum, I have Ben now. And he has me,
though I'm not sure how good a deal that is. I'm not putting myself down.
Humor, Mum, you know?" Ray smiled then, blindingly. "Yeah? You want us?
Well, I'm going back to work tomorrow, so it'd have to be kinda late. At
my desk, not on the street. Don't worry." Ray put his hand over the voice
piece. "Mum would like us to come to dinner tomorrow night." 

 "I would be delighted to." Though I wondered what Ray's father would
think, I found that the worry couldn't cloud the warmth her offer had
given me. Or the warmth I felt that Ray had claimed me as his own to his
mother. 

 "He's good with it." Ray smiled, then said, "She wants to know what you
eat." 

 "Anything will be fine. Truly. I don't want her to put herself out for my
sake." 

 "He's being martyrish, Mum, and won't say. Don't worry about it. He'll
eat almost anything you put in front of him." Ray colored spectacularly,
far beyond what I thought was possible for him. "Mum! I can't believe you
said that! God, is Dad in the room? He is? He knows? He knows? He's fine?
Wow." Ray smiled. "But, no, don't you ever say anything dirty like that to
me ever again. Never again, my heart'll give out if I hear any more. It'll
just stop in shock. I'm yer son, that's why. Okay. Tomorrow at 7. I love
you. Yes, I'll take care of myself. Yeah, Ben'll take care of me too, and
don't even think of saying something dirty to that. What kind of example
are you setting for me? I love you. Ben does too. `Bye." 

 Once he set the phone down, I kissed his heated cheek. "What did your
mother say?" 

 Ray squirmed and blushed harder. It was sweet. "I'm not gonna repeat it.
Ever. But Dad knows about us and didn't stroke out. Mum had a lot to do
with him accepting it, I'm sure." 

 I couldn't quite accept it yet; it hadn't sunk in. In any case, I wanted
to play a little now. "That's wonderful, but I want to know the rest as
well, and I have ways of making you talk." 

 "That you don't dare use at full throttle until I'm healed more." 

 "Dammit." 

 "Did you just swear? First Mum needing her mouth washed out with soap and
now you. Am I in the land of the pod people or what?" 

 I carefully pulled him into my lap and nuzzled his neck. "It's what you
do to us." 

 "I'm one hell of a dangerous guy, then, ain't I?"  

 I walked into the 27th with as much spring in my step as the small hole
in my gut let me. Walked in alone, with Fraser to follow sometime in the
next hour. We figured it would be wiser. 

 A few folks stopped me in the halls to ask me how I was doing or tell me
good morning. People's attitudes ranged from happy to see me to friendly
to cautious. Ray waved, and Shikatani smiled. I had the furtive notice of
the whole room on me as I walked to my desk. I didn't like all the
attention, but it didn't feel like hostile attention. 

 Frannie sat in my chair, coffee mug in hand. "Nice of you to stop by,"
she said. 

 "I work here." 

 She smiled and stood up. "Very true." Then handed me the coffee. 

 I grinned back and cradled the warm mug in my hands. "You didn't spit in
it or anything, did ya?" 

 "Waste of good spit. Nah." 

 "Put my candies in?" 

 "Ew. No. I refuse to encourage that. See ya later." She put her hand on
my shoulder and squeezed, then left. 

 I sat at my desk, and the whole room seemed to relax a little. Normally
I'd get off on that kind of power. In other circumstances, I would. 

 As I put my M&Ms in my coffee for the added pick-me-up and started going
through the paperwork on my desk, Welsh came up. "Welcome back, Detective.
How are you doing?" 

 "Good to be back. And it only hurts when I stretch. Or breathe." Welsh
was Welsh. Ever was, ever will be. Pillar of the universe. 

 Good guy. 

 "You'll get used to it. And this will give you an opportunity to catch up
on all the forms you let slide." 

 "Joy." 

 "Let me know if you need anything." 

 "Yessir." 

 "Then get to work. That goes for the rest of you too!" 

 I smiled as the whole room suddenly sounded much busier. The knot in my
stomach started to loosen. 

 Then Ben and Dief came in about an hour later, and things stayed
aggressively normal. Status quo since I came back, but it didn't feel
quite so surreptitiously hostile now. People were beaming their hostility
at Camara instead, who slunk around the office as if trying to avoid
attention. 

 When Ray and Shikatani offered to buy us lunch, on our way out some
people offered their best wishes on a speedy recovery. And they were
totally sincere. 

 Things would be okay, I could tell. Not necessarily easy, but okay. 

 I could live with that.  

 As we walked up to the trailer, Ray kept fidgeting, then wincing. "You'll
reopen your wound," I said as I put a gentle, restraining hand on his
shoulder. "Please calm down." 

 Ray adjusted the collar of his shirt. We'd both dressed up a little for
the dinner. "Dad is accepting us into his home as a couple. Supposedly.
Not even being on painkillers can calm me down enough. God, I hope I don't
say anything stupid that makes him change his mind." 

 "I doubt that will happen. In any case, you can blame it on the drugs." 

 "Yeah, that might work." He rocked up onto his toes a few times, then
settled down and took a deep breath. "Let's get it on," he said as he rang
the doorbell. 

 His mother opened the door immediately, as if she'd been waiting nearby.
"Stanley! Benton. Please come in." 

 After Ray hugged her, I bid her good evening and gave her the cake we'd
brought. Then, to my surprise and pleasure, she hugged me and asked,
"Benton! Why didn't you tell me you were hurt too?" 

 "It's merely a flesh wound, Barbara." I sighed in a long-suffering manner
as Ray snorted. 

 Ray's father stood up from his chair and faced us. "Hey, Dad," Ray said,
looking utterly calm and unruffled. 

 "Glad you could make it, Raymond. `Evening, Constable." 

 "You could call me `Benton' if you wish, sir." 

 "Have a seat then, Benton." 

 We then commenced to have a quiet, if filling meal. Well, actually Ray's
mother told a number of endearing stories about what Ray had been like as
a child that threatened to send him fleeing the table. His father aided
and abetted the process and passed me only a few, fleeting dark looks as
we ate. 

 I could only presume that Barbara was an excellent cook, because I tasted
little of the meal as I watched Ray. I wondered if his parents could see
the nervousness underlying his smooth exterior as I did. 

 As Barbara cleared away the plates, Mr. Kowalski said, "It wasn't a good
thing to make your mother and me have to guess it like that." 

 Ray let out a breath and finally relaxed, as if relieved to finally have
this out. "I just got you back. I didn't want to lose you again so soon." 

 "Hmm. Well." 

 "I love you, Dad, but I saw what happened the last time you didn't
approve of one of my lifestyle choices." 

 "I was a stubborn fool, Raymond. Don't look at me like that, Son. I can
admit it. You've inherited it from me, so you know." 

 "Yeah." Ray seemed to have been rendered nearly speechless by his
father's admission. His mother stood behind his chair and hugged him. 

 "I can't say that I fully approve of this, but I accept it. I don't want
to lose you again either. And I see the way the two of you look at each
other. Anyone can see it." 

 Ray's voice sounded soft and warm with feeling. "Thanks, Dad." 

 "I hope you know, Benton, that we expect you to treat our Raymond right."


 "I'm afraid that you'd have to wait in line," I said. "Stella has already
threatened me in the name of Ray's welfare." 

 "You're kidding me!" Ray said. 

 Mr. Kowalski chuckled. "That girl always did have spark. Welcome to the
family, Benton. And feel free to bring your wolf next time if you'd like."


 Barbara hugged me from behind, and Ray clasped my hand and grinned. But I
somehow kept my voice steady as I said, "Thank you, sir. Thank you,
Barbara."  

 As I walked up on Ray speaking with Walker, I started to catch their
conversation. "How the hell did you become friends after that?" Ray asked.
His rapidly healing wound and return to regular duty had put him in an
almost ceaselessly exuberant mood that I loved to see. 

 "She was pretty good about me almost choking up a lung laughing, so we
found a fairly quiet corner and talked for a few hours. Friendship ensued.
As well as the ongoing effort to get into my pants," Walked answered.
"Just let me know when and where, and she can get you in. Hey, Fraser." 

 If I'd been Ray, I would have asked if she'd just told Ray that the woman
she spoke of could help him get into Walker's pants. Being myself, I
simply greeted her back. "Good day, Walker." 

 Ray had already focused his attention elsewhere. "What's Ren doing here?"


 Walker shrugged. "He's dating Frannie." 

 "No way. Go, Ren! Hey, wait a minute. She's my sister. He better be
treating her right. And he didn't tell me. What's he hiding?" 

 "Renfield is a Mountie," I said. It might be a good match for the both of
them. 

 "Yeah, and a good guy, but still. He better. Guys can be pigs. Wait a
minute." 

 "Wait a minute again?" Walker asked. 

 "How do you know about this when I don't?" 

 "Better detective skills." 

 "Schyeah, right." 

 Walker curled a tendril of her hair around her finger in a coquettish
fashion completely unlike her usual nature. "You ever hear of a thing
called `girl talk'? Jeez, Ray." 

 "You and Frannie. Talking?" 

 "We share a common language." 

 "On what planet?" 

 "Walker!" Lieutenant Welsh yelled. "My office! Now!" 

 "If you don't come back, I'll tell yer next of kin what happened to ya,"
Ray said. 

 "You're too kind. See ya," Walker said as she waved and left. 

 For no reason I could see, Ray picked up the phone receiver, listened for
a moment, then set it back down. "Weird. Nobody there." 

 "Ray, it didn't ring," I answered. Some of his eccentricities could still
surprise me. 

 "No?" 

 "No." 

 Then the phone rang. Ray picked the receiver up and said, "27th,
Detective Kowalski speaking. Yeah? On our way." He put it down. "We got a
lead. I knew he'd call." 

 Although curiosity consumed me regarding his business with Walker, I said
nothing to Ray about it, and he rewarded my forbearance with a sunny
smile. Warmed, I smiled back. 

 He would tell me in his own good time.  

 Wrung out, cooling down, I grinned as Ben put his hand on my hip, somehow
making sparks that shouldn't have been possible after everything we'd
already done. Hadn't been this perpetually horny since I was a kid, but
what choice did I have when I had Benton "All-You-Can-Eat Buffet" Fraser
next to me most of the time? Working with him while trying to keep my
hands off him could be torture sometimes. 

 Loved him so. 

 "I want to go out dancing. With you," I said. When he didn't immediately
answer, I rambled, "Where I wanted to go isn't really yer kind of scene
usually, but I thought you might find out that you like it, and you say
you want me to share and all because we agree that partners is sharing,
and I want to go out with you, you know?" 

 "Ray." 

 "Yeah?" 

 He had this look like a light bulb had gone on over his head. "I'm
willing to try." 

 Wow. That was easy. "Oh. That's great. That's greatness." Then I had a
bad thought. "And I don't want you to think I buttered you up with sex
first to try to get you to say yes, because I didn't have any ulterior
motives. I jumped and buttered you for jumping and buttering you's sake." 

 He put me out of my misery by kissing me. Okay, he didn't seem to mind me
asking him to go out dancing. When his hand strayed, I realized that he
really didn't mind me asking him to go out dancing.  

 Ray showed an endearing excitement about going out dancing with me, so
much so that he was charmingly manic and grinned at everything. As often
happened, he infected everyone around him with it. When he grabbed Walker
by the arm and asked, "Can she swing it for tonight?" Walker smiled back
and said she'd see. 

 A few moments later, Walker returned. "Yeah, you have a go. Metropol.
Probably be best if you arrived around 11. Bypass the line, go straight up
to the doorman, and tell him that you're Ray and Benton on Max's list.
That'll get you right in. I may show up myself sometime tonight. Don't
worry, Fraser, I'm not gonna stick to you guys." 

 Not that I'd want her around us all the time, but she hardly had to exile
herself. "Actually, Walker, I don't mi--" 

 Detective Shikatani walked up, saying, "So this is where you went to
hide." 

 "Hide?" Walker asked, blatantly offended. "I'm doing a favor for a friend
here. With that done, I totally intended to come back and teach you the
error of your ways." 

 "It's brawling on ice." 

 "One, what's wrong with brawling? Two, it is not. It's a sport of speed,
grace, strategy, and teamwork." 

 "What is the argument?" I asked. 

 "Shikatani hates the noble sport of hockey," Walker answered. "He likes
tennis. I've resigned myself to being the only member of this partnership
who has a Y chromosome." 

 "I have so many possible and obvious retorts to that that I'm not even
going to bother," Shikatani said. 

 Walker considered for a moment, then winced. "Ow. And ow." She put her
hand to her chest as if trying to cover a stab wound. "And I thought you
were more of a gentlemen than that. Stop, please, Shikatani, I can't take
another one of your sharp-edged ripostes." 

 "You thought wrong." 

 "You two are deeply strange," Ray said with a smirk. 

 "I simply distrust any sport where most of the players are missing their
teeth." 

 "Uh-oh," Ray said. "You just impugned one of the major Canadian sports in
front of a Mountie. What were you thinking? You gonna let him get away
with that, Fraser?" 

 "I'm marshalling my thoughts. I fear that I would fail to be polite
otherwise," I answered. 

 "Have you ever actually played hockey, Takeshi?" Walker asked. 

 "Have you?" I had to ask, curious. 

 "Hell, yeah." 

 Ray coughed and muttered, "Highsticker," behind his hand. 

 "It's not high sticking if nobody catches you. Besides, it's just as
effective sometimes to beat the crap out of another player's calves and
ankles. I played a mean defense." 

 "With an accent on the `mean.'" 

 Walker stuck her tongue out at my Ray. "If you want sports that are
really brawling, you have to look at football and boxing." 

 Before the discussion degenerated completely, I said, "Hockey is a noble
sport, Detective Shikatani. I could explain its merits to you." 

 "Thank you, Fraser, but no thank you," Shikatani said. "I know when I'm
outnumbered and can't win. Maybe Walker and I could go solve some cases." 

 "You are such a spoilsport," Walker said. "Later, guys." 

 As they left, I thought to myself that Walker and Shikatani made an odd
looking pair, with the top of his head only coming to her shoulder. Yet
they seemed to work well enough together. I remember Ray saying that
neither his partner nor Walker's partner at the 23rd had understood them,
making me wonder if Shikatani understood her. Making me wonder what life
had been like for Ray as Detective Stan Bernstein's misunderstood partner.
Perhaps Ray had other reasons to be thankful that I'd come into his life. 

 Ray said, "Don't you like her a little bit better now that you know she's
a hockey fan and player?" 

 With my distrust and jealousy cooling to ashes, I could see her merits.
"Don't push," I said lightly, knowing full well that Ray rarely pushed
where Walker was concerned. 

 "Push? Me? Nah. Just trying to get you to be truthful." 

 "I'm always truthful." 

 "Yeah, but somehow you do that evading thing real well." He smiled and
shook his head. "Never mind. We got crooks to catch."  

 "It doesn't sit right with me," I said as we walked past the long line of
hopeful people. 

 "It's proper preparation at work, Ben. We looked into it ahead of time
and got invited. They're trying to do that now. We prepared, they didn't."
Ray looked back and smiled at me again, making my breath catch. He hadn't
let me watch him get dressed, and I'd realized why when, finished, he'd
come out in tight black and with his eyes softly lined with kohl. Only
willpower and knowing how much he wanted to go out had stopped me from
pouncing upon him. 

 Though he'd noticed and appreciated my struggle. And shared it,
apparently, since his eyes had lingered over my own ensemble of black
T-shirt and blue jeans so tight that looking at him became a masochistic
affair from the effect he had on my cock. 

 With perfect arrogance Ray grabbed my arm, walked right up to the
doorman, and said, "Ray and Benton on Max's list." 

 The man flipped through the papers on his clipboard before saying, "I
have you," and letting us through the line. Ray waved merrily at the
people we'd bypassed. 

 When the door opened the sound and bass hit me like a wall, so loud I
could feel them. I swam through air thick with scents, so many I had
difficulties separating and identifying them. Yet I felt a kind of
electric excitement in the atmosphere, and not all of it came from Ray,
who vibrated beside me. The tight-knit crowd intimidated me a bit, seeing
as how more people crowded this space than I'd see in ten years in the
Northwest Territories. Too many people. 

 "Urban explorers, remember?" Ray shouted into my ear. 

 I couldn't help smiling back. 

 "Ray!" a woman yelled as she slipped through the crowd. I got an
impression of tight black leather and bare shoulders and arms, then a
blinding smile. 

 "Max!" Ray yelled back. "Thanks for getting us in. This is my sig-o,
Constable Benton Fraser." 

 "Pleased to meet you," she said to me. "I'm glad to meet the man who made
Ray completely impervious to my flirting. I totally get it now." 

 "Indeed." What else could I say to that? 

 Ray asked her, "Did you really introduce yerself to Ray by saying, `If
you ever get tired of the dick, I'll treat you right'?" 

 Max coughed. "Her then-boyfriend was an asshole. Trust me. Sizing up the
other women in the club like he was at an all-youcan -eat buffet. Right in
front of her face. She was cute, and I was buzzed and thinking it was a
cleverer line than it was. Give me a break. Besides, it broke the ice, we
chatted for the rest of the night, and we're still friends now. Seems like
I didn't do too badly for myself." A woman in sparkling eye makeup and a
short dress and tall boots made of thin purple latex walked up to Max and
shouted into her ear. Max smiled. "Have to go. Meet and greet. I'm
working, you know. Nice meeting you, Benton. Ciao, boys!" 

 Ray pulled me further into the crowd, his body already moving to the beat
along with everyone else. Thus, he slid between dancers easily, while I
found myself apologizing to a number of people. They often reacted in too
friendly a manner for Ray's tastes, because he would come up close to them
and tell them I was already taken before leading me away. 

 "There's a propulsion in the music," he shouted over the roar and
thunder. "Like it's the thrill of the chase. You just feel it and track it
down. You forget about everybody else, focus in hard, and listen to what
yer body's telling you. No rules for this kind of dancing." 

 With everyone packed in so closely that someone brushed me at every move
I make, it would be difficult to ignore them. But I could feel the
momentum he spoke of. I nodded. 

 "And don't be so serious!" he said with a big grin before he pulled
himself up close against me, rubbing a bit, getting an immediate response.
"Think of it as being like sex." Then he slid back, though I caught his
arm before he could leave me completely bereft. 

 He flicked a saucy look down at my hand on his wrist, then started to
dance. "Partner me!" he shouted. 

 Feeling a bit silly, I tried to match him. Tried, because Ray seemed to
have fewer bones than I did, making him more fluid. He also possessed far
fewer inhibitions. 

 Eventually I started to anticipate the rhythm and beat myself and saw how
he reacted to them to mirror him. "You're working too hard, thinking too
hard," he mouthed at me as he stroked my arms before launching off again.
Ray had an ecstatic and somewhat dazed look in his eyes whenever he
caressed me with his gaze, and I saw that this was like sex to him. He
listened to the music with his body and reacted accordingly. Watching the
lights strobe colors through his pale hair, watching him move as if in
foreplay, made it easier to listen to my own body, which became ever more
insistent about what it wanted. It wanted to move with him. 

 The next song was even faster, but I started to keep up with him, melting
into the beat and his touches, the rush and the crush of people dancing
around us as if we were part of some larger organism. The heat and press
of the anonymous crowd and Ray stimulated me. The opposite of sensory
deprivation, yet it had a similar effect. I let my hands roam over the
damp black cotton of the shirt that now clung to him and the harder denim
of his jeans, stroking, cupping. He purred, inaudible to me at the moment
but discernible as a rumble through my fingers, and pushed against me. 

 It felt so good. He felt so good. 

 Highly public foreplay, and no one cared. They were too involved
themselves. 

 I was losing myself in this, and I didn't care. There was only Ray and
the next move.	

 I lost track of time, and I think Ben did too. I just moved and let the
lust build and build and build. He burned me alive with his gaze, and his
jeans had to be uncomfortable he was so hard. God, he looked hot. He sure
as hell didn't move like a stick now. 

 His hand finally settled on my waistband. "We have to go," I gasped into
his ear as I bucked against him. 

 Ben nodded once, shortly, and grabbed my arm. We rushed across the floor,
and Ben had taken to dancing so well that he sort of danced between people
on his way out instead of having to push through. I had to stop watching
his ass, because I'd never make it if I did. 

 We almost ran into Ray and her date as they danced. She blew us a kiss
and pulled her guy out of our way. Part of me hoped that Ben had noticed
how she dressed when she truly wanted to look like a slut, just to
reinforce an old point, but I mostly had other things on my mind. 

 The doorman seemed to give us an amused look as if we walked out, but,
again, I had more important things on my mind. I had Ben on my mind. The
cool night air smacked my sweaty body down to my bones, but it didn't
matter when I felt so hot on the inside. 

 God, it was taking too long to get to my car. "Alley?" I asked
half-seriously. 

 He actually considered it for a moment. I'd made him that crazy. This was
gonna be good. Probably fast too, if he was anywhere near as ready to bust
his jeans as I was, but good. 

 When we reached my car, I wanted so badly to take him in the backseat,
but I just wasn't acrobatic enough to get what I wanted that way. I shoved
my key into the ignition and peeled out of the spot. 

 "We're going home," I said, probably not making much sense. I mean, duh,
we're going home. So I clarified. "I want you to fuck me. No, I need you
to fuck me." 

 I could hear Ben breathe in, it was so loud. "As you wish." 

 "I do. I really do." 

 I should've gotten a speeding ticket, though at least I held the line at
running the lights no matter how deserted the streets were. We had to get
home. I couldn't stand being in the car with him sitting beside me, his
heat radiating out at me. I thought I could hear his heart pound. 

 I did a half-assed job of parking, though still within what was legal and
wouldn't get the GTO smashed by anybody driving by, and bolted up the
steps, Ben on my tail. If only that were literally so. To my great relief,
I remembered how to use my keys correctly. But even with the craziness and
the aching with lust bits, I was having fun with the race and chase. Ben
would probably figure it's just craziness. 

 Then again, right now he didn't seem to mind being crazy. 

 I was laughing when Ben grabbed me and kicked the door shut behind us. I
only stopped laughing when he started to devour my mouth, his hands on my
ass pressing me to him. 

 He bucked as I unzipped his jeans. "Now, want you now," I panted. 

 He growled in response, then pulled my jeans and briefs down, leaving me
bare to the air and with my ankles hobbled. I heard cloth tear a little,
but it just revved me hotter. I bent over the kitchen island invitingly,
with my naked ass out and begging for it. Aching for it. I still had my
leather jacket on. Imagining how I must look to Ben made me even harder. 

 My heart pounding, I heard cloth and leather whisper and rustle, then
felt something blunt and coolly slick enter me. Maybe... maybe two
fingers. I jerked and fought not to blow my wad already, since I was so
close and dripping. Wanting more, I wiggled and pushed back, a slut for
the burn and perfection of it. I groaned as Ben hit my sweet spot and
worked it. 

 I could feel myself hitting the edge from that tingle in my spine and the
weight in my balls. "I can't-- Ben, you have to do it now...." 

 The fingers went out, and he went in with one long, clean thrust that
buried him in me to his balls. I came and kept on coming as he plunged in
and out, pushing me across the Formica, friction inside and out, one hand
around my cock and the other bunching in my jacket. I could hear the
whispering sound of his body rubbing against the leather. "Ray," he moaned
and nipped the back of my neck, a starburst of sensation. And I was gone,
with one last shudder of a riptide that emptied my body. When I came out
of the blackout, I floated and purred as his familiar weight rode me for a
while longer, with him calling my name on each thrust until he let go
totally. 

 "So," I finally asked, my voice low and throaty, almost gasping,
"clubbing agrees with you?" 

 "I must admit that the city... has some amenities the Territories lack,"
Ben panted against my neck, kissing me. 

 "Ya think?" I answered, grinning like a lunatic.  "And the end of all our
searching shall be to return to the place where we started and know it for
the first time." -- T.S. Eliot	

 Ray left my side to gingerly venture out onto the ice. "I have to get
back into skating trim for this game," he said. "No way I'm gonna fall on
my ass in front of that many people." 

 "Letting the team down would suck too," Walker said as she skated in a
figure eight nearby. 

 "At least I'll be out there, which is more than we can say for yer
Chicken Little, `it's a brawl, not a sport' partner, and I can still kick
yer ass on skates." 

 As she skated backward away from him, she said, "We're on the same team,
remember? 27th district? You're not supposed to be kicking my ass. Still,
at least I have an ass to kick. Unlike some people whose names I won't
mention even as I'm talking to `em." 

 "Not when I'm done with you." Ray launched off from the wall after her. 

 "Have an ass? Mention your name? Make up your mind!" Walker shouted back
as she dashed away. 

 Walker's friend, Max, and I watched them race around the rink. "If only
we could harness that energy, we might be able to replace oil, gas, and
electric as power sources," Max said as she tied her right boot.
"Governments would rise and fall, and the whole global order would change.


 At least she could joke. I occasionally had to remind myself that the
barrage of insults meant they liked one another. They sometimes sounded
like the bitterest enemies, but the smirks and laughing light in their
eyes gave them away. Given a chance, would Maggie and I create a similar
brother/sister relationship for ourselves? Perhaps I'd find out in three
weeks. It would be good to see her again. 

 I watched Ray try to put Walker into a chokehold. I hoped Maggie and I
wouldn't bond quite like that. 

 I worried sometimes about how well Ray would do back in Canada during our
trip--even if it would be in September, well before the snows, taking one
difficulty off the list of possibilities--but the last three months here
had been good to him, even with some of the difficulties we'd faced from
his fellow officers. He seemed steadier, balanced, yet he still moved,
hadn't become inert, as I sometimes felt myself to be. No, that wasn't
quite right. I couldn't describe it; all I knew was that he seemed strong
and happy, and what more could I ask? 

 "I'm surprised they're letting you be on the 27th's team," Max said. 

 "It's for charity, and I seem to be considered an unofficial member."
Some of the detectives persisted in harassing me and Ray over our
"lifestyle choice," but the majority didn't care as long as we didn't
physically express affection in front of them in the workplace, which
suited me anyway. A few were actively supportive. Having the lieutenant on
our side certainly helped, as did his swift punishment of unprofessional
behavior. 

 But I wouldn't have been able to bear knowing what Ray faced if I weren't
usually with him to watch his back. I hoped the animosity wouldn't mar
this charity game as well, since one of the worst offenders would be part
of our team's defense. Not Camara, though, thank God. He'd been quiet
since the Lieutenant had disciplined him, but Ray and I felt that he
simply bided his time. 

 Yet Ray would not back down and, seeing as how I was pot to his kettle, I
couldn't ask him to. 

 "I know that. I meant because you're Canadian," Max said. 

 Usually I would politely but firmly decry that as a stereotype, but I did
skate and play hockey well, and I was off duty anyway. "I believe that the
20th was promised some compensatory thing to make up for it. I'm not aware
of the details." 

 In the distance, Francesca squealed, "Rennie!" I heard laughter and
turned to watch Renfield and Francesca. He looked quite happy with the
deathgrip she had on his arm as he tried to guide her across the ice, and
she looked very pleased herself. 

 He'd opted not to return to Canada after all, saying that he loved
Francesca and was needed here. In any case, he said, he had a strange
feeling that he'd be hit by a bus back home. Having learned not to
challenge his judgment on such statements, I'd said nothing. 

 It made me feel petty to be so jealous of the odd bond that had formed
between Renfield and my Ray from the abilities they shared. Ray knew he
could talk to Ren about issues I wouldn't understand. No matter the
difficulties I saw them have, I wanted it for myself, just to be closer to
Ray. 

 Ray's oddness had abated a bit. He still had some truly wild hunches that
turned out to be true, but his hunches weren't 100% reliable, so we
pursued nothing without gaining evidence as well, as usual. He often knew
that the phone would ring half a minute before it did and sometimes who
was calling, though he'd missed numerous calls in the beginning from
picking up the phone too soon before he figured out what was going on.
Ray's ability to anticipate when streetlights would turn green had
increased, something he took shameless advantage of. Other people could
dismiss such incidents as luck or Ray's eccentric self, and he seemed to
be fine with that. 

 However, his abilities had ruined the game of poker for him. At first
he'd learned to throw a few games simply so people would continue to play
with him, but knowing everyone else's discards had taken all the fun of
playing away. 

 Seeing something happening on the ice, Max yelled, "Children, play nice!"
Ray and Walker flew through the crowd, weaving between people, at high
speed, yet somehow disturbed no one. Max asked me, "How do you deal with
those two at once without going gray?" 

 "Who says I haven't?" I answered with my blandest expression. 

 Max snorted and shook her head. 

 Adaptable as ever, Ray skated and roughhoused on the ice as if born to
it. I suspected that he wasn't as out of practice as he'd claimed to be.
He put his arms out and started to spin in what appeared to be a slowly
contracting spiral, his revolutions matching Walker's rhythmic claps of
encouragement. He didn't always maintain perfect control of his movement,
but the occasional wobble didn't seem to detract from his obvious
happiness. Then he noticed me watching and gave me an incandescent smile. 

 This was why I had stayed. 

 Max raised an eyebrow at me, shook her head, then glided out onto the
ice. I followed to join Ray. 

 "Shake yer moneymaker, Ben!" Ray shouted as he did a sinuous wiggle of
his own. 

 "I don't see why you'd call it a `moneymaker.' I dare say I never made a
profit from it," I called back. 

 He flew up behind me and whispered, "You could. I'd pay for it if I
weren't already getting it for free," before darting out of reach again. 

 "I think I was misled into coming here. You don't seem to need a
refresher at all." 

 "No harm in a little practice. Proper prep, ya know? Besides, I thought
you might like to do some skating, and I like it, so why not? So, is it
happy-making for you?" 

 "It's not quite the same skating indoors in the summer. No sharply fresh
air or sunlight glinting off the ice." 

 He saw that I was simply being ridiculous and was ridiculous in response.
"Would it help if I got you a fan and a flashlight?" 

 "This does make me happy, Ray." 

 Ray smiled. "That's what I like to hear." Then he flitted in to ruffle my
hair out of order, whispered "Love you," into my ear, and darted away,
shouting back, "Chase me!" in a daffy, familiar accent not his own. 

 He would empathize with Pinky. "I'm cutting off your cartoon watching
privileges," I said as I gave chase. Making sure that we presented no
danger to other skaters first, of course, though I noticed Ray doing that
as well. 

 "Ooooh, threats. How're you gonna make it stick, Mountie boy?" 

 "Stand still, and I'll show you." 

 He just laughed and zigzagged away. 

 "Should I slow him down on his next go-round?" Walker asked as I raced
past. 

 "Not at all. I can handle him." 

 "Prove it!" my Ray said. 

 I would catch him on my own because he wanted to be caught. 

 I first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's killers. I chose to
remain--for very important reasons--but lately from being so attached to
my Ray, who had become my home. 

 Put more simply, I came to Chicago out of love and my sense of justice. 

 I chose to stay for the same reasons. 

 *********************THE END********************** 

 More Viridian5 stories can be found in The Green Room version 2.0 at
http://www.mrks.org/~viridian/ 

 No-frames but no-frills access available at
http://www.mrks.org/~viridian/Viridian_side.htm 

 Fandoms represented: due South, Hard Core Logo, Twitch City, Andromeda,
Smallville, X-Files, Once a Thief, the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie,
Angel, Two Guys and a Girl (was Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place),
X-Men, Doctor Who, Fight Club, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine 

End Nevermore by Viridian5: Viridian5@aol.com

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