Laying the Past	 Laying the Past

 by Laura Mason

  

 Author's website: http://lauramason.slashcity.net

 Disclaimer: 

 Author's Notes: 

 Story Notes: 

 This story is a sequel to: Dealing with the Past 

 

 "You don't have anything to say, Mr. Vecchio? You are paying for this
time with me." 

 "Since I'm paying, who cares if I talk or not?" 

 "Well, I personally don't like to feel that I'm taking your money for
nothing," Dr. Siddons said with a charming
 smile. But Ray didn't feel charmed. 

 "I want to fix this. It's not fair to Benny, what I'm doing to him." 

 "It's not really fair, what was done to you, either," Siddons remarked,
having carefully read everything about Ray
 Vecchio before this first appointment. "Being framed and sent to prison
as a child -- there's nothing fair about that." 

 Ray waved that off without a word. "You're really gay?" he asked yet
again. "You don't mind me talking about being
 in love with a guy?" 

 "I am homosexual, Mr. Vecchio, and there is very little you could say
that would shock or disturb me." 

 "Yeah, well. I hit him. Benny's so... sweet, that sounds dumb but it's a
good word for him. He's polite and
 thoughtful and kind to everyone. And I hit him." 

 "Ray." Dr. Siddons' eyes were very kind, too. "You have to forgive
yourself for that, since I'm sure Benny already
 has."	

 They didn't sleep together that first wonderful night when Fraser finally
told Ray he loved him. Ray's face lit up
 while Fraser talked, then Ray haltingly confessed his own feelings -- but
nothing happened. They didn't even kiss,
 and though Fraser thought it might be odd, he really didn't know that
there was anything wrong. 

 It wasn't until they returned from dinner, a full week later, when Fraser
tried to kiss Ray and wound up flat on his
 back with a sore jaw, that he knew there was a problem. But Ray vanished
without explanation or apology, and it
 was several days before he came to the Consulate, offered to drive Fraser
and Diefenbaker home, and took them to
 the nearest beach instead. 

 They sat on a bench, watching Diefenbaker run in the sand, and Ray talked
about being put in prison when he was
 seventeen. Fraser had always been intelligent, probably more intelligent
than most people, yet he didn't understand
 what Ray was saying. 

 Ray looked at him, anger and frustration and tears in his eyes, and kept
repeating "They beat me up, Fraser. I ...
 You're bigger than me and it scares me, because the big guys... I know
you wouldn't do that, but they beat me up." 

 Fraser nodded and accepted Ray's apology without trying to touch him,
though it wasn't until much later that night
 as he was falling asleep that he realized when Ray said "beat up," he
meant "raped."	

 "You love him." 

 "Yeah," came the miserable voice. 

 "He loves you." 

 "Yeah, he says he loves me." 

 "You have not been able to separate the physical expression of love from
the rapes you endured." 

 "Jeeze." Ray Vecchio's hands went up, covering his face. "You say that
so... It wasn't like having the flu or
 something. I didn't endure anything. I was raped. Guys were bigger than
me, stronger than me, and they hurt me.
 They held me down and did whatever they wanted, and I couldn't do a damn
thing about it!" 

 "Do you believe Constable Fraser would hold you down and do whatever he
wants?" 

 "Of course not!" Ray was pacing now, arms flailing, but Dr. Siddons was
used to that by now. "Benny isn't like
 them. Benny isn't like anyone." And then Ray was laughing, laughing and
sitting back down and bending so far over
 it looked like he was trying to vomit. "Benny is wonderful. Has been
wonderful, considering what a loser I am."  

 It was odd how little anything changed. Fraser loved Ray and had told him
so; Ray loved Fraser and had admitted it
 with glowing eyes and closed-off body language. Diefenbaker romped ahead
of them, behaving as if the Field
 Museum grounds were his personal park. And Fraser helped Ray check the
perimeter, just as he'd done for other
 exhibitions. 

 Their partnership was unchanged. Their friendship itself was unchanged.
But Fraser, having expressed his feelings
 at last, couldn't help the occasional jolt of lust as he watched Ray's
slender figure move. He believed, from what
 Ray said, that the feeling was mutual. 

 Fraser had gone many years without love in his life, and that included
the physical expression of love. He'd been
 taught that lustful feelings were to be ignored, suppressed, sublimated
into exercise or exertion. Sex equaled love,
 and only love justified having sex. With that belief, sex was not a
common occurrence. 

 Why was it so difficult, now, to respect Ray's boundaries and keep their
love sexless? Fraser thought perhaps
 Victoria was to blame, since her brief stay in his life had shown him the
joy of loving, playful, regular sex. The fact
 that her love had been an illusion, or at the most a warped version of
true love, didn't change how he had felt and
 what their lovemaking had meant to him. 

 Fraser wanted that joy again, wanted to know everything about Ray. Wanted
to see his face flushed with passion,
 wanted to kiss his pouty lips and taste that smooth olive skin. But
patience was required, now that he'd heard Ray's
 halting explanation. Fraser followed Ray back inside the building, to the
secondary security room they'd set up in an
 unused office. 

 Odd that although he'd often thought of Ray's teen years in Joliet
prison, Fraser had never conjured the horror of
 such an intimate violation. Although he'd often felt protective around
Ray, he'd never imagined Ray as a victim, as
 helpless. Even when he'd worked out with Ray, refining his friend's
self-defense skills, Fraser had found that Ray
 could hold his own. Of course, Ray was reluctant to using street moves
and "dirty tricks," as Ray called them, in
 their exercises. 

 Now Fraser understood why Ray was driven to improve his fighting
condition, even now. Though Ray's security job
 wasn't as active as a police officer's duties, or even as potentially
active as Fraser's own duties, he still spent
 weekends working out with Fraser, and even went running some mornings. 

 Fraser sighed as Ray bent over his monitor again, checking the camera
angle and adjusting the view of the doors.
 He could imagine a life with Ray in his arms every night, and Ray going
for a run with Diefenbaker in the morning.
 He wondered if it would ever be possible. 

 And he jumped a foot when Ray, as if reading his thoughts, turned to him
and said in a low voice, "I've been seeing
 a shrink, Benny."  

 "This is dumb." Ray squirmed in his chair. "I mean, I've been coming here
for months now, and nothing is any
 better." 

 "You can't expect to heal on a timetable, Ray." Siddons was kind but
firm. "You are much better at expressing your
 feelings than you were even two weeks ago." 

 "Yeah, great, I'm paying to learn how to whine more easily." The doctor
coughed, and Ray knew he was trying not
 to laugh. "I suppose you're right. I should have talked to someone about
this years ago, should have dealt with it.
 Now it just seems to take so long to get anywhere." 

 "What's the rush, Ray?" Siddons asked, though he knew the answer. 

 "I want to make Benny happy." Ray sat forward and stared at his
therapist. "It never seemed important before
 because I never thought I'd find someone, ya know? I mean, I was this
ex-con loser, and no one wanted me. But
 now Benny does, and I just can't deal with it." 

 "You don't feel that you make Benny happy now?" 

 "We're friends, our friendship hasn't changed. But his eyes. Sometimes he
looks at me and I can tell he's waiting..."
 Ray lay back, deflated. "A guy like him shouldn't have to wait. He
deserves more." 

 "But it seems he wants you and is willing to wait for you." 

 "Yeah, he says that." Ray knew he sounded unconvinced. 

 "Would you like to bring Constable Fraser to your next appointment, Ray?"


 "No! Jesus, no. If he heard me, how I talk to you... No." 

 "Perhaps you could speak to him more openly in this atmosphere." 

 "And tell him what? That I may never be able to love him? That I'm even
more of a loser than he guessed?" 

 "Ray, you are not a loser. You are not even a victim any longer." 

 "Then why do I feel this way?" For the first time, Ray cried in front of
Siddons.  

 Fraser cautiously shifted in his bed, careful not to rouse Ray. He knew
how easily startled Ray was to find someone
 next to him, even after a month of being together. Still, it was worth
the risk that Ray might strike out at him,
 before he knew who was holding him -- it was heaven to sleep holding Ray
in his arms. 

 Seven months ago he'd told Ray Vecchio he was loved, and been assured
that the feelings were mutual. Five
 months ago they'd kissed for the first time. They'd spent months
experimenting with touches and kisses, slowly
 taming Ray to Fraser's arms holding him gently despite his greater
strength. Until, last month, Dr. Siddons had
 finally agreed they should try sleeping in the same bed, though without
actually being unclothed or having sex. Ray
 had moved into Fraser's apartment that same week. 

 This glacial progress didn't bother Fraser, though kissing and touching
didn't always slake his lust. It was still much
 more than he'd had with anyone else, and there was the hope that Ray
would continue improving, would learn to
 trust him. 

 Fraser shook his head. Dr. Helm, the therapist he'd begun seeing, would
be disappointed to hear he was still
 thinking that way. It wasn't about trust. Helm had told Fraser that, many
times, and the support group he'd joined
 for partners of rape victims reinforced everything Dr. Helm said. And
Fraser knew, intellectually, that Ray had
 trusted him enough to love him, to admit to that love, and to tell him
the truth about his past. Ray simply had to
 overcome some very painful memories. 

 But it still felt as if Ray didn't believe in his love. Ray still
squirmed when Fraser told him he was beautiful, still
 quoted his father's words about his own shortcomings, and still seemed to
think Fraser would be out of his life as
 soon as a pretty woman came along. 

 Fraser wondered how Ray could trust him with his life, but not believe
his words.  

 No matter how huge the building you are in actually is, once bullets
start flying there is absolutely no place to hide. 

 The Palmer House filled a city block, but when Ray and Fraser pursued an
alarm in the basement, the trouble found
 them almost immediately. Ray's supply of ammunition was enough to hold up
the robbers until the police
 responded. But now Ray and Fraser were huddled behind a totally
inadequate garbage can, caught in the crossfire
 between the officers and the men who'd been attempting to steal the
Faberge eggs currently on display at the hotel. 

 "Just my luck," Ray muttered, holding Fraser closer as plaster cascaded
over them when a bullet struck the wall
 directly above their heads. "This exhibit has gone around the world, been
in hundreds of hotels. But as soon as it
 comes to Chicago..." 

 "It does seem odd that the Russian mafia would consider this the best
place to make their move." Fraser agreed. He
 was actually between Ray's legs, backed tightly against his love. If
there weren't gunshots, he'd have been thrilled
 and aroused in this position. "Your firm's security record is excellent."


 "Yeah, but since that flooding everybody's heard about the freight
tunnels under the loop buildings," Ray moaned.
 "They figured it was easier to get out underground..." 

 "It's to your credit that you had this exit route secured, Ray," Fraser
began, then hissed and jerked back, banging
 Ray's nose with his head. 

 "Ow! Christ, Fraser, what the hell..." Ray stopped speaking and quickly
pulled Fraser around so he could see his
 face. It was covered with blood. "Benny! Oh my God." Ray stood up and
screamed "Call 911!" hoping the police
 could hear him over the echoes of the shots. He pulled Fraser further
behind the can and crouched down in front of
 him, turning his own back on the shots still ringing out. 

 "I'm all right, Ray," Fraser said, his hand moving up to the flow of
blood on his face. "Don't expose yourself..." 

 "Shut up, Benny," Ray gasped, trying to see where he'd been hit. "Oh,
God, I'm sorry I said that. I don't mean it,
 Benny. You talk if you want to, tell me Inuit stories all night, just be
okay, all right? Please, God," he had his
 handkerchief pressed over the wound now, but he honestly couldn't tell
what had hit the Mountie. "I love you so
 much, Fraser, I know it's been hell living with me, but you do know I
love you, right?" 

 "Ray." Fraser said, a smile on his face despite the pain where Ray was
putting pressure on his head. "Of course I
 know that. Why do you think it's been hell?" 

 "I see how much you want me to be normal, Benny," and amazingly, Ray
burst into tears. "I'm sorry I'm such a
 screw up. I can't help..." 

 "You aren't... You're possibly the bravest man I've ever known, Ray."
Fraser kept speaking, though he noticed that
 the gunshots had finally stopped. "I don't know if I could have sought
guidance myself without your example. You
 showed me that it is not a weakness to admit needing help." 

 "Really?" Ray was red-nosed but at least he'd stopped crying. In fact, he
looked amazed. 

 "Oh, Ray." And then the police were there, paramedics were brought
through, and Fraser drifted off in a haze of
 pain while Ray showed his identification and explained how they'd managed
to get caught in the midst of the
 robbery attempt. 

 It was hours later when Fraser had a chance to speak to Ray again. Fraser
woke in a hospital bed and he realized
 Ray was in a chair beside him, pulled close enough so that he was leaning
on the edge of the bed. Sound asleep,
 Ray's face looked younger -- and a little sickly -- in the dim light of
the room. 

 "Ray." His throat was dry, and he knew he hadn't been heard. Fraser
reached for the glass of water on the tray, and
 his movement woke Ray immediately. 

 "Benny. Are you all right?" Ray started up, then moaned as the stiffness
from his position caught up with him. He
 sat back down as if his knees had given out. 

 Fraser sipped a little of his water, then smiled at Ray. "I'm feeling
fine, Ray. I'm surprised to actually be
 hospitalized, though." 

 "You have six stitches in your hard Canadian head, Fraser," Ray said
dryly, sounding more like himself. "With head
 injuries they usually make you stay the night. You obviously don't
remember, but they've been waking you every
 hour or so." 

 "Ah. Well, I do remember that, vaguely, though it is somewhat annoying.
But I don't remember what hit me, Ray." 

 "Okay, now I know you're sick! You, admitting to being annoyed by
anything." Ray smiled at him, immense mirth
 bubbling in his eyes. "I love you so much, Benny." 

 "Thank you, Ray," he quietly replied, then took another drink, and
finally set the water down to look back at Ray. 

 "You might say 'ditto,' Fraser." Ray was still grinning at him despite
the annoyed tone of voice. "Or should I grab a
 garbage can and see if I can knock some sense into your head?" 

 "A garbage can?" 

 "Yeah, like the one we were hiding behind. One of those idiots was using
an automatic weapon and the slugs tore
 up the can. A bit of shrapnel hit you. Fortunately, that pelt of yours
kept it from going too deep. They had to shave
 a tiny patch, but other than that your cute little Mountie face will be
fine." Ray's smiled faded as he stared at
 Fraser. "It just looked so ... There was so much blood." 

 "Ah, yes, head wounds are like that." Fraser settled back against his
pillows. "I honestly don't feel badly. Just a
 little sore." 

 "Good. I, on the other hand, feel awful." Ray stood again, more slowly,
then sank down on the bed next to Fraser
 and hugged him. "I was scared, Benny." 

 Fraser brought his arms up and held his shaking lover tightly. "Yes,
Ray."  

 Ray's long fingers traced the outline of his lover's face, lingering a
little to rub the soft hair covering Fraser's newest
 scar. They kissed again, a leisurely tangling of tongues and lips, and
then Ray lay back and spoke to his lover, his
 voice husky. 

 "It's time, Benny. Make love to me." 

 Fraser nodded, only his eyes asking if Ray was sure. The doctor had told
them to let their own feelings guide them
 now. They'd waited so long, explored so many other ways to give and
receive pleasure. But now Ray was asking
 Fraser to do what they'd never done before -- to be on top of him,
holding him down with his greater body mass. 

 Fraser slowly moved closer to Ray, kissing every bit of him that he could
reach, rubbing his hands over Ray's chest
 and belly. He was careful not to restrain Ray's arms at all, to let him
participate in the act with his arms and legs
 and mouth. Someday, perhaps, that might change -- but for now there were
certain things Ray could not do. Fraser
 wondered if he could let Ray restrain him, tie him. Perhaps. Right now,
there was so much joy in their mutual
 explorations that Fraser only wanted to continue mapping Ray's body with
his mouth. But very soon that delight
 was no longer enough for either of them. Ray was moaning and pulling at
him, so Fraser carefully moved over him,
 aligning their bodies. 

 As the Mountie moved into position Ray felt a frisson of fear. He opened
his eyes wide, and looked at his lover, his
 Benny. There was still some nervousness, but no panic. Benny was
beautiful, flushed and transported by the
 feelings rushing through his body. Ray tried to relax, to let himself
feel, but his arousal had been dampened. Still, it
 was wonderful to watch Fraser, to touch him freely, to feel his powerful
body grinding against Ray's own. 

 It struck Ray as odd that he was under this heavy, powerful man yet he
felt somehow enfolded and safe. But then,
 Benny did that for him -- kept him safe, watched his back, gave him love
and protection. Ray smiled just as Fraser
 opened his eyes and looked down at him, then froze and shuddered as his
orgasm took him. Ray felt the warm fluid
 hitting his own body and moaned. 

 Fraser carefully lowered himself to the side of Ray, and reached to
stroke his penis. Ray stopped him with a hand. 

 "Ray? Are you all right?" 

 "I'm wonderful, Benny. You just don't need to do that right now." 

 "But you..." Fraser's voice was sad, though he stopped himself from
saying anything more. 

 "Not this first time, no," Ray soothed, pulling Fraser into his arms and
holding him close. "I just enjoyed feeling
 that, watching you -- you're so beautiful, Benny, so incredibly..." Ray
kissed him again. "I want to do that again,
 soon. I want to do everything with you, and have you make love to me in
every way possible. But for tonight, that
 was enough." 

 Fraser relaxed, smiling at the passion in Ray's voice. Another "first
time" was over, and they'd survived. There
 would be a second time, then a third, and finally, they'd begin to lose
track of how often they'd done this act. But
 their lovemaking, whatever kind, would always be just as sweet and
exciting and wonderful -- Fraser was sure of
 that.	

 Dr. Siddons looked at his file once again. A year of listening to Ray
Vecchio argue with himself. A full year. 

 "So it has improved?" 

 "Oh, yeah." Ray looked so content, so at ease with himself today. "That
first time we were both scared stiff." He
 laughed. "Scared un-stiff, in my case. But we did it, anyway, because we
both wanted to. And it was fine, but
 now..." Ray's smile said it all. Siddons smiled back at him. 

 "First times are always difficult, even under the best of circumstances."


 "I suppose so. You know, I don't think Benny had ever been with a guy,
either, though he's been reading up on all
 that stuff." 

 "If you had questions you could have asked me for some suggestions, Ray."


 "Aw, Doc, it's not like that for me. I don't want to read about it, I
want to do it." And Ray almost managed a leer.
 "We managed just fine, believe me. It was -- well, just how I thought
it'd be with Fraser. The best." 

 "That's wonderful, Ray. But you will do some reading and preparation
before you progress to any anal sex, I hope."
 Siddons leaned forward. "We've discussed this before. You were very lucky
not to be more seriously injured, or to
 get AIDS. But even in a loving relationship there are challenges. I've
told you how much I enjoy being penetrated,
 but that act requires patience, preparation, and protection." 

 Ray's eyes showed he was listening carefully, though his words were
breezy and almost dismissive. 

 "Yeah, I suppose I'll have to crack a book. I think Benny's already got
stacks of 'em I can use. He's got condoms, all
 types and flavors. He insists that even though we both took AIDS tests,
we still need to use them 'to avoid
 infections of the urethra.'" 

 "Your partner is very intelligent and seems very careful for your health
and pleasure. You're lucky to have someone
 like him." 

 "Doc, I've been telling you that for a year now!" Listening to the
familiar whine and watching the windmilling arms,
 Dr. Siddons was reassured that his patient, though much changed, was
still the Ray Vecchio who'd walked in a year
 before. Which was good, because he'd come to like Ray very much. 

End Laying the Past by Laura Mason: lauramason@lauramason.slashcity.net

Author and story notes above.