North      North

 by Basingstoke

  

 Author's website: http://www.ravenswing.com/bas/

 Disclaimer: 

 Author's Notes: Thanks to Laura Jacquez Valentine for being a most
steadfast and trustworthy beta.

 Story Notes: Previous stories in this series: Zen, Tidal Waves,
Cigarettes, Baby's Breath, Collision.

 This story is a sequel to: Collision 

 

 I lean a little closer. "He wanted you to what?" 

 "Felch him," Bayliss whispers. "And you know, you've gotta draw the line
somewhere. There are places that I just won't go." 

 "He seemed so normal," I say. Bayliss has the worst luck with men. First
Michael moved home to take care of his mother, then Darren stole Bayliss'
TV, now Ricky's a pervert. 

 "They always do," Bayliss says dourly. 

 "We've never tried that kinky stuff. Me, I'm pretty vanilla." 

 "You?" Bayliss raises his eyebrow. "What about Fraser?" 

 "Look at those boots. You think he's vanilla?" 

 We both look at Fraser's shiny, knee-high Mountie boots. Bayliss cracks
up, and so do I. Fraser looks at me puzzled-like but just shakes his head
and starts talking to the brand new baby-face transfer from Narcotics. 

 His big grey eyes are fine now. I have to listen to Mr. High Strung freak
about cataracts once or twice a week, though. Think I'm going to start
blowing him whenever he whines. 

 "So." Bayliss shrugs. "Solo again." 

 "Yeah." And that's the extent of our guy talk. And Bayliss is giving me
big mournful eyes, like there's something he just can't say. I'm not going
to let him say it. Last time we talked about our feelings, he told me
things I didn't want to know. 

 Doesn't matter any more. I'm gone. "What do you think the chances are
we're gonna get called in on Sunday?" I ask him. 

 He shakes himself, shakes off his mood. "Fifty-fifty. They're going to
work you right until the day you leave, aren't they?" 

 "Yeah." I lean back and work on my carving, and Bayliss goes to raid the
buffet. I'm carving a Hot Wheels-kinda Buick Riviera for Frannie's kid.
Vecchio will get a kick out of it. 

 Dief is sitting under the buffet table being the proud daddy with two
pups from his latest litter with Maggie. Yeah, he found her again--it's a
love story for the ages. Yeah, we're taking them with us. I think Dief's
been filling their heads with stories about chasing polar bears and
running with the wolves, because they get excited every time we pick up a
suitcase. 

 "The village is built on a glacier," Fraser is telling the new detective.
He's too new to be afraid of Fraser's stories. "It creeps very slowly
toward the sea, about thirty feet a year, carrying the village with it.
Eventually the village will be lost," and there's this note in his voice
that lets me know he thinks that's pretty cool. The earth pushing off the
little human things on top of it. 

 "When the glacier calves an iceberg, there's a crack like a shotgun as
big as a mountain, and then the iceberg sends up an enormous wave as it
hits the water. It can swamp boats half a mile away." 

 "Wow," the new guy says. I try to remember being that young. Not so sure
I ever was. 

 Bayliss is over in the corner with a plateful of broccoli, talking to
Elaine's brother, and I get a big grin. 

 "Matchmaker," Fraser whispers in my ear, and I elbow him in the ribs so
he knows I love him. 

 Elaine Besbriss, newly bumped up to detective as a reward for rescuing
two kids from a nut job in a holdup, is going to be Bayliss' partner
starting November. I think it's a good match. He's an old hand at
detecting but still new to the city, and she knows the city like it's part
of her but she's new to being a detective. They're both sharp as tacks.
And she doesn't know his secrets. 

 And then there's her brother... 

 They're talking about the history of Buddhism. They have been on and off
since I introduced them. Every time someone else gets too close to Bayliss
and Besbriss they get a whiff of the independent roots and growth of the
Tibetan practice and their eyes glaze over. It's a good blind, kind of
t'ai chi, using the outsider's nosiness against him. They don't even know
they're doing it but it keeps anyone else from seeing the way they talk to
each other with their bodies. Bayliss has very talky hips. 

 I met Elaine's brother Avery about a week after I stepped into Vecchio's
shoes, when he came to pick Elaine up for lunch. He's a little short but
broad, solid, handsome, and we had sparks. I saw to him later at one of
those bars, the ones with just enough women in it for a guy to pretend if
he gets caught, and we went out for coffee and found out that we didn't
really hit it off. He likes book smart, not street smart, and that I
cannot be. 

 But Bayliss is book smart too, and Bayliss understands his job: Associate
Professor of Comparative Religion. Bayliss looks like he's about to ask
Avery out for...coffee with the dot-dot-dot that means "or tea or me." 

 I lean back over to Fraser, who's watching them too since the new guy
made for the punch. "Kinda makes you feel all fuzzy, doesn't it?" 

 "Fuzzy?" But he's got a smile that means he knows what I'm saying, he
just wants to hear me say it. 

 "Young love." 

 Fraser smiles and doesn't point out that Bayliss has celebrated his 39th
birthday for at least two years and Avery is already starting to show gray
in that little beard thing he has going, because Fraser knows exactly what
I mean. 

 That's old love. We don't even have to speak any more, just wiggle our
fingers. 

 We're in the middle of the Halloween-slash-going away party, and it's a
real blow-out. More people seem sad to see us go that I would have
thought, but I guess it's mostly that they'll miss Fraser. It kind of
reminds me of his fake funeral. 

 Welsh finds us and pulls Fraser aside, leaving me standing there
finishing the Riv. Maybe Fraser can whip up some Yuck Green paint out of
grass clippings and White-Out-- 

 "Ray!" Stella, all in black. "Burrell is giving evidence against Stinson.
It's in the bag." 

 I grin. "Did you tell Bayliss? He'll be over the moon." 

 "Not yet." She looks up at me. "So this is goodbye?" 

 "Yeah." I never thought I'd say it. I never thought I'd be here. But here
we are, and it doesn't hurt. And we're both kind of standing there looking
at each other until I speak up: "Bye, Stella." 

 She drops her eyes and smiles a little, then looks back up and puts her
hand to my cheek. She kisses my other cheek. "Goodbye, Ray." 

 Her eyes are a little wet. Damn, I didn't think she would miss me
either... "I'll tell Bayliss," she says, and I watch her walk away. 

 It feels good. 

 I go and fetch Fraser again and I tug him into the bathroom, the big
stall, and I feel him up, and he smiles and kisses me right there in the
station. Hey, he never used to do that. Progress kicks ass. We breathe
together, trading breath back and forth, those goofy romantic things. I've
got my hands roaming all over, chest and back and butt and thighs, just
grabbing soft handfuls wherever I can. He feels nice. 

 Fraser twitches as I find a ticklish spot and grabs my hands, pinning
them against the painted metal barrier. "Later," he murmurs, and runs his
tongue along my lip before giving me a smooch and letting me go. 

 I look at the line of his back as he walks away--okay, I look at his
ass--and I think about "later." 

 "Corporal Fraser! Detective Kowalski! I'm so pleased to see you!" Christ,
it's Turnbull! 

 Of course, we were expecting him--he's coming in from Ottawa to take over
from Fraser. He's got a sexy little Harrison Ford scar on his chin from
the bus accident. We both shake his hand. 

 Turnbull starts talking Fraser's ear off about Consulate business so I
make a getaway into the squad room. Bayliss is standing near the door and
I collar him. "Be discreet when you're talking to Avery," I whisper in his
ear. "That's what the supply room is for." I think about what I've just
been doing and add, "Or the bathroom." 

 "I am the soul of discretion," he mutters back. 

 "Your ass ain't. Tell it to stop wiggling." I sock him in the shoulder
and head for the punch bowl to see if it's spiked yet. Which it is. But
that's okay, since Vecchio is driving me and Fraser back to his house
afterwards; our apartment is cleared out already and the sublet is moving
in tomorrow. The furniture went to Goodwill and Fraser's friends, some
personal stuff went into storage. My clothes and Fraser's chest were
shipped to Frobisher; we have a pack each, and that's all we're carrying
with us apart from food. We're picking up Mohammed and the other dogs from
Fraser's old buddy Steve, who was borrowing them while we were gone. I
pour myself some punch and get happy. 

 Dief stares up at me. The two pups grin up at me. I look to one side and
knock a few mini-weenies off the table. 

 The vodka punch is warming my stomach as Vecchio walks over. He's all in
black, mourning black. Ma Vecchio saw her grandbaby, but not a lot else.
I'll miss her too. 

 Vecchio and Stella are leaving for Florida soon. He leans up against the
outside of Welsh's office wall next to me. "How's the punch?" 

 "Punchy." 

 Vecchio snorts. "I guess I better stick to the Diet Coke, then." 

 I grin. "Unless you want Fraser to citizen arrest you and drive that
shiny new Riviera home, yeah." Vecchio crosses himself and I laugh. 

 "Are you keeping the bowling alley after all?" I ask. He's been arguing
with his uncle for I don't know, months. Yeah, I'll take it. No, you don't
have to take it. No, I want to take it. Oh, I couldn't ask that of you,
but it would be nice. 

 "Yeah. Stella's going to be bringing home the bacon, but that doesn't
mean I get to just sit around looking pretty." 

 "That's cool. Call it Vecchio's Mucho Macho Bowling Alley--" I duck as he
tries to sock me in the arm. "Watch the hair! You know, I don't think
Fraser's ever been bowling." 

 Vecchio makes a face. "Knowing him, he'd bowl 300 the first time out." 

 "Probably." 

 "So where are you going exactly?" Vecchio asks. 

 And I don't know, I really don't; but I look at Fraser as he walks
through the door and smiles at me, and I look back at Vecchio and grin as
I say: "North." The puppies under the table yelp at the word. 

 "That's specific." 

 I shrug. We don't need to be more specific. 

 "Ray!" We both look up to see Francesca. She hands me her daughter and
Ray the diaper bag. "Hold these." 

 "Okay." I make the puffin face at the baby. She grabs for my nose. 

 "Kowalski, what's going on?" 

 I look up at Vecchio and see Francesca heading for the hallway just as
Turnbull rounds the corner with Fraser. Turnbull stops stock still, and a
good thing too, because Francesca jumps right into his arms squealing
"Renny! RENNY!" 

 I smile at the baby as the squad room starts clapping. "Look, there's
your daddy!" 

 "Him?" Vecchio looks like he's going to faint. "Turnbull!" 

 I nod. "Where'd you think she got those baby blues?" I poke her nose and
she grabs my finger. 

 Vecchio shoots a look at blond, blue-eyed me. 

 I grin at him. "We've been relationship-counseling those two for months."


 "What happened? No, don't tell me. I gotta--something." Vecchio drops the
diaper bag at my feet and makes his way over to his sister. 

 "You're lucky those two didn't name you Benton," I tell the baby as
Vecchio shakes Turnbull's hand. 

 Fraser sits down beside me. "If they had called her Benton, I'd have
broken into the Hall of Records and changed it myself. It was bad enough
as a boy." He makes the puffin face. I kiss his cheek, real fast, and he
gives me a big beaming smile. 

 Vecchio comes back, shaking his head. "I don't get it. I thought Turnbull
was light in the loafers." 

 I grin. "He is. He's also a romantic. Like me." Turnbull and Frannie had
gotten together after the Tracy Jenkins concert. I guess the music carried
them away. They had kind of a don't-look-at-me thing going on until Fraser
and I went up north and Frannie got over her crush, and then they hooked
up off and on. 

 And Turnbull went to Ottawa right after Fraser returned, never knowing
that he'd knocked Frannie up.... We had to get them back together, right?
Fraser's a romantic too. 

 "Turnbull," Vecchio's muttering. "Francesca Turnbull. This is my brother
in law Turnbull." He shakes his head. 

 "What makes you think they're getting married or that she would take his
name if they did? Frannie's a modern gal." I wink at Vecchio but he's too
busy fretting. Stella comes up and hugs him from behind. "Turnbull is a
natural born housewife," I add. 

 I hear Frannie coming before she shows. Turnbull's beside her grinning
like a fool. "Here she is," Frannie says, so I stand up and show the baby
off. 

 Turnbull's got the most amazing look on his face. Babies are always kind
of a sock in the gut--it's a genetic thing, right? Instinctual or
something. And when it's your own it's just that much more. 

 Not that I would know. As such. But me and Fraser have been the stand-in
daddies to this little girl for four months now. And, well, hell. I offer
her up. 

 Turnbull takes her slowly and carefully. He's putting on his serious
face, the one he found when he was running for office. And I was thinking
"don't drop her don't drop her" but it's fading away. 

 He cradles her to his chest and looks at her, and he looks at Frannie,
and he leans over and kisses her with their baby between them. 

 Fraser puts his arm around my shoulders and leans on me. "I think it'll
work out." 

 "Yeah, probably." I put my arm around his shoulders and lean on him.
"Three days and then north," I say. 

 "Home." 

 "Home." 

 "Home," Fraser sighs, and he squeezes me, a big smile on his face. 

 end. 

End North by Basingstoke: bas@yosa.com

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