Mechanic at Stony Creek	 Mechanic at Stony Creek

 by Shedoc

  

 

 Disclaimer: I don't own them - but I'll form a syndicate to buy 'em. Any
takers? <g>

 Author's Notes: un beta'd - first slash in this fandom, no flames please

 Story Notes: I beat up on RayK but good, but it's ok because he comes out
on top (no pun intended) Other stuff to come for Stony Creek if no one
hates this one.

 

 

 Prologue  

 I knew going in that the people I'd meet and the friends and family that
I'd inherit weren't really mine. I'd have to give them back once the gig
was over - once the real Ray Vecchio returned from his assignment a hero. 

 They warned me that I'd have to work with a Mountie and a wolf, and
Vecchio himself came and saw me to make sure that I knew these two in
particular were special people and to be taken care of. Then he warned me
about the way they both seemed to attract trouble - and he was dead right,
they were regular trouble magnets. 

 But Constable Benton Fraser - or Fraser to his friends, and Benny to
Vecchio - was also a really decent guy. He was easy to be friends with -
the kind of guy that is infuriating and smart and exasperating and just
plain freaky but underneath all that a friendly guy. I started out sort of
liking him, moved straight into really liking him, and somewhere along the
way I kinda fell in love. The kind of love where you want to get naked and
make like crazed weasels under the covers for the rest of your natural
life. 

 Unfortunately, Constable Benton Fraser was as straight as he was tall and
well built - which is very. So I left it at really good friends, and if I
made like a crazed weasel in my dreams at night then I didn't let on to
him. No point in freaking the Canadian out. He'd probably have some kind
of Inuit story to cover the situation and then quietly get himself a
transfer. And seeing as how Vecchio would be pissed if I ran his friend
the Mountie off I kept my trap shut and my mind on the job. 

 I think that Diefenbaker - Fraser's deaf wolf - probably figured it out.
He liked me a lot though and didn't say anything to Constable Benton
Fraser - Frase to me. 

 Then Vecchio comes back and all hell breaks loose. We almost break his
cover, and then he does to save Fraser's life when that jerk face Muldoon
tries to shoot Frase. God that scared the hell out me - I couldn't do
anything to stop it. From the moment that Vecchio showed up he started
with the possessive `give back my life and my friend and my family' stuff.
Don't get me wrong - he had a tough assignment and his cover wasn't some
sweet and light deal. It makes sense that he wanted his old life back and
I was the one who had it. 

 I didn't mind giving him back his job, though Welsh could probably have
found me a place at the 2-7 if I asked him to. And Ma Vecchio wasn't
likely to just shut me out of her house, I fixed the boiler better than
Vecchio could and she got to feed me - I've got a fast metabolism and
never seem to gain weight, though she's certainly tried her best to make
me. I didn't want to just give back Fraser though. We'd never talked about
what would happen when Vecchio came back - he wouldn't have wanted to risk
a breach in security and I was too shit scared to find out. But like I
said before, I loved the guy and giving him up was gonna hurt. 

 I was hurting anyway - his face went so dead when Vecchio was shot - like
he'd been hit too and was slowly bleeding to death inside. All I could do
was get him to the hospital and then go get Ma and Frannie so they could
be here in case things went to shit. Tony and Angie came too, leaving the
kids with the neighbours and I was glad that his family was there for him.
I fetched and carried coffee and snacks and tried to stay out of the way. 

 Then Frase came out of Vecchio's room. We knew he'd probably live at that
point and at this point I was only waiting around so I could tell him I
was going after the guys responsible. He was hurting, and when he looked
up at me I suddenly wanted to get it over with. Being shit scared was no
excuse - I had to know if he was going to let me give him back or if he
was going to let me stay around. So I blurted out something stupid about
did he still want a partner and he said four words that saved my life. 

 "If you'll have me." 

 I wanted to kiss him, but I chickened out and just said something
suitably guy like and we got on with the job. 

 Well to cut a long story short, we nearly died, but we got our man in
true Mountie fashion and Vecchio got out of hospital in very short order.
We were finishing the last of the paperwork on the whole sorry mess when I
got the news about Stella and Vecchio. 

 I think that Frase was just as surprised as me, though I was happy that
she was happy. I couldn't see her in a bowling alley, but I figured what
the hell - maybe she could do law stuff on the side and it wasn't my
business anyway. She called me, and Vecchio called Frase and we were
sitting by the fire with Dief curled up against my leg - he'd started
doing that after he caught up with us and I wasn't complaining - when
Frase turned to me and asked if I wanted to find the Hand of Franklin. 

 My first thought was `hell no'. Hang around in all the cold and wet with
Frase and no one else around for miles...actually that sounded pretty good
on second thought, so I said yes and we started our `quest'. The PD had
promised me a six month stretch of leave to `rediscover my identity' when
the Vecchio thing was over and Fraser had some long service leave coming
so we got a team together and headed off into the wilds. 

 Of course, just because we were back in Canada didn't mean that Frase and
Dief stopped attracting trouble, so between learning to survive out in the
freaking wilderness and looking for the Hand and hunting down the stupid
dopes that were dumb enough to cross our path we wasted three months
together. I learned to survive and handle a dog sled - to Frase's surprise
I was pretty good at it. I wasn't surprised; I was plain old shocked
stupid. 

 About two weeks into the whole survival-training thing I realised that I
wasn't the only one trying to figure out if our friendship was solid.
Fraser was trying too - he no longer had to help maintain Vecchio's cover
and I guess in a way it was a relief for him. We learned a lot about each
other and I learned a lot about myself. Fraser was so damn patient with
me, especially when I fucked up, that after a while I got used to the
whole idea that he wasn't just humouring me and wanted me around. 

 Dief stuck pretty close too. I was too damn grateful that the wolf didn't
mind me being around to care. I ended up talking to him just like Frase
did - in fact we cracked the Mountie up once our twice with our
discussions. We even argued over this and that - though when he was losing
Dief would knock me into the snow and roll me over. Frase would take sides
as the mood struck him, and sometimes he just stayed out of it. 

 Three months into the quest we got snowed in at a little town called
Stony Creek and we started a new phase of our friendship. There was a
two-man Mountie post there, and they were down a man so the Sergeant was
happy to see Fraser and me. I was surprised about that at first, then
realised that I'd gained a bit of a rep with the RCMP as Fraser's American
partner. Anyway Fraser went back on active duty at his superior's request
and we stayed in the RCMP barracks while we waited for the thaw. 

 I helped out around the post a little and went out with Fraser when he
needed the backup, though I wasn't allowed to carry a gun. It was a bit
mind bending to have Fraser cover my unarmed ass when things got hot - but
he was a damn good shot and I was too grateful to argue. 

 Then he and the Sarge - that's what I called him, though his name was
Brown - got called out and I got to know the town mechanic. I actually
damn near knocked him over in the general store when I was looking for
chocolate to put in my coffee. I knocked his box out of his hands and
picked it all up again because I was in Canada and people out here are
polite. I didn't care what they thought of Americans too much for myself,
but didn't want to reflect badly on Frase, so I walked to the garage -
more of a workspace attached to the general store and deposited the box
where I was told. 

 The town mechanic was called Paul Snow and he was older than Yoda off
Star Wars. He was just as smart and cunning too - you could see it in his
eyes. He was a grumpy old freak that had a temper fiercer than Ma
Vecchio's and a tongue sharper than Stella. He asked me a couple of
questions and I told him about the GTO and how I could always get her
humming sweetly. He challenged me to prove it on a hunk of junk in the
corner and I took him up on it. Three days of blood sweat and tears later
I got it to purr for me and he just clapped me on the back and asked me to
help out with a snowplough. 

 Snowy - as I called him to his wincing annoyance - took me around town
after that to help out on his `house calls'. Between us we must have seen
every damn engine in the town and almost everything in a twenty-mile
radius. By the time Frase and Sarge got back I'd made a few acquaintances
and was bartering my services when Snowy was too busy. Frase gave me that
small smile that he usually reserved for big things, like saving a busload
of nuns, and my damn fool heart did the happy dance all over again. 

 Things ended for us at Stony Creek. By the time the thaw came my leave
was almost up. Fraser's superiors informed him that they wanted him to
take a post further north and I couldn't bear to tell him not to take it.
He'd regained that serene edge that I saw in his eyes the first time we
met, just after he'd got back from his time in Toronto. He loved being out
here and it was better for him. I figured it wasn't fair to drag him back
to Chicago when he hated the place so much and congratulated him with
Sarge on the new posting. 

 He decided to take the team overland to his new post and I got up early
for a final breakfast with him. Dief and I had our last conversation and
Fraser laughed at us a couple of times, though he was a little quiet. I
promised him that I was going back to Chicago, and if I changed my mind
I'd leave word at the Consulate there for him. We shook hands and he left.
Dief kept glancing back, but Frase never did. A small part of me hoped it
was because this was hurting him as much as it was hurting me, but I told
myself to shut up and get on with it. 

 Snowy drove me to the airstrip and made me promise to stay in touch. I
don't know why, but I did, sending him postcards from Chicago with brief
notes. He'd reply - once or twice on a beer coaster. Sometimes there was a
message from someone else in town, even the Sarge wrote me once or twice.
I started a damn chess game on those postcards, and kept the board set up
next to the turtle's tank. In a way it was nice to know that someone in
Canada was thinking about me. Frase and I never wrote. 

 The 2-7 took me back in. Major Crimes was like coming home in a way the
1-8 had never been. Those guys and gals were like family and weren't at
all fazed by the idea that `Vecchio' was now calling himself `Kowalski'.
Ma Vecchio kept inviting me to Sunday lunch and Welsh kept sending me to
the Consulate if a liaison officer was needed. My parents moved out of the
damn trailer and into a house. Ma Vecchio got to know them too, and you
don't know the meaning of misery until you catch a cold and your Polish
and Italian mothers are beating down your door with home cooked remedies.
Both are concerned that I'm too thin, but I just don't seem to keep the
weight on. Even the department doctors tell me to put weight on. 

 I was ok. I wasn't great, but most days I was good. The empty place where
Frase had been was a manageable ache and the work at the 2-7 kept me busy
enough not to have to think about it all. Every now and then Turnbull
would send me extracts from the monthly bulletins about Frase - mainly
about his arrest rate and how many poachers he'd caught single-handed with
a roll of dental floss or something - and I'd get depressed. But then
something always came up and I'd get back up and keep going.  Chapter One 

 Then it all went to shit. I can't say much about what happened - though I
still wake screaming from the nightmares every freaking night and twice on
Sunday's - but when it was all over I was left in hospital minus my right
leg below the knee. As soon as I was coherent enough to understand what
had happened I made the doctors and nurses promise not to let any visitors
in, and made Welsh spread the word that I didn't want anyone calling
Fraser or anyone else about the whole freaking mess. I spoke to my parents
once a week on the phone, and even spoke to Ma Vecchio once, but basically
I became a hermit right there in the damn hospital. I can't tell you why I
did it - though I knew that my parents at least loved me. 

 I went to therapy and worked my ass off, determined not to be a freaking
burden on anyone. I didn't want or need anyone's pity or help. Even though
they tried to get a shrink to talk to me - actually they tried seven
before they got the message and gave up - I kept it all inside. I hated
that I was damaged like this and I hated that the damn job had taken my
life away from me. I refused the fucking medal they wanted to give me -
like it would make a fucking difference - and told the press to go piss up
a rope. 

 I already knew that I wasn't going back to the PD. There was no damn way
that I was going to work behind a desk, promotion or not. Hell, even if by
some miracle I could retrain and take a field position in the PD, it would
be a support role like forensics or something. I hated being left behind,
and I knew that being a community policeman - the fancy pants title they
gave cops who did the public speaking and education circuit - wasn't for
me either. I'm not patient enough for that. Even the Academy wouldn't be
any good - supposing they'd have me. I'm not a teacher like Fraser, I'd be
more likely to just flunk `em than try and help out. 

 In an effort to try and see me more often my parents were bringing my
mail to the hospital. They usually ended up leaving it at the nurse's
station, especially once I started locking myself in the bathroom. It's
kinda hard to explain why I didn't want to see them. I guess I didn't want
to see the pity or disgust in their eyes. The nursing staff was bad
enough, though there was one girl who was totally indifferent to the stump
that she had to clean and bandage. I couldn't bear to look at it myself
and she would usually ask me questions about Canada to distract me. I
really liked her, and we've stayed in touch over the years. 

 Two things saved me from eating my back up weapon. Well, three if you
count the fact that it was in my apartment and not in the hospital with
me. The first was my `technician' and the second was Snowy. 

 My `tech' was a sassy woman with a no nonsense attitude. She was the one
responsible for measuring what was left below my knee - not much - and
designing prosthesis for me. She wore her long hair in twin plaits and had
a way of making me feel like it was perfectly normal for her to be
touching the place where my leg used to be. She got me measured, she got
me fitted and she got me through the rehab - and let me tell you I was a
right pain in the arse while she did it. 

 Instead of the plastic foot and metal brace that I was expecting she
fitted me with what I call a suction cup and a bent coat hanger. The
prosthesis was flat metal that was very strong and very light weight. The
foot was little more than a fold in the metal that doubled back to rest on
a flat plate. 

 "It's like the one the Olympian's use in the athletics events. It's got
enough give to compensate for your ankle and let you move around fairly
quickly," she told me the first time she brought it in. I told her she was
loony tunes if she thought I was gonna wear something like that and she
got in my face about it all. After weeks of people tiptoeing around the
issue it was kind of a relief to have someone push me back. 

 I have to admit it felt weird, learning to walk all over again. She was
patient though, and told me off if I whined too much. In a way she got
further with me than the shrink, especially when I lost it and told her
she had no fucking idea what it was like to lose a leg. She simply pulled
up her trousers and showed me her left leg - it was the same as my right. 

 "I was eighteen and my boyfriend lost it on an icy road," was all she
said. She knew how I'd lost mine - hell it was in the papers, not to
mention my medical files - and we didn't discuss that. Instead we talked
about the changes she'd had to make in her life after the accident. I've
wondered once or twice about her - she knew a lot about the process of
grieving and adjustment - more than if she'd just gone through it herself
and listened to the shrinks. I found out later she was a double doctor - a
PhD in psychiatry as well as biomechanics. She worked out of the
university hospital and was so damn sneaky about it that when I found out
years later all I could do was feel the respect and gratitude she
deserved. 

 Snowy saved me with a letter. He was ready to retire but wanted someone
to take over his `business'. None of his kids knew anything about engines
- I got the feeling that they weren't talking to him anyway. You don't ask
that kind of a question - or if you do you don't expect an answer. Snowy
was planning to head out to live with his sister in Owl Creek - almost on
the other side of the country. He'd said once that if I wanted a job to
come and see him - now he was asking for real. 

 I managed to bribe the bursar into charging an international call to my
account - the city was paying my bills anyway and could just shut up about
it - and got through to Snowy after about an hour of trying one place or
another. He said he could wait for me for a couple of weeks and I pretty
much hung up plotting my escape straight away. 

 To say my parents and friends were less than pleased was an
understatement. To my astonishment, Turnbull turned out to be very useful,
getting the paperwork I needed done with little fuss, though he had a
wistful kind of look about him when I came in to get it. I was walking
again by then, and damn glad to be out of the hospital. Welsh had offered
to chauffeur me around on his day off and we spent the time not arguing
about it while I got my life packed up to go and live in Canada. Between
the pension from the PD and the payout from the City I was ok financially
for the next few years, especially if I watched my spending. 

 They chucked me a huge `look who's alive/leaving' party the night before
I was due to leave. Half the 2-7 was there, and even the Ice Queen showed
up. She pissed me off when she asked if I wanted her to tell Fraser what
had happened and left not long after. Turnbull already had the letter that
he was supposed to send if Fraser tried to contact me, though I didn't
think it was likely any more. 

 Which is how I came to live in Stony Creek as the general mechanic come
jack of all trades. Snowy left pretty much the day after I arrived and I
managed to live in the back of the garage for a few days before Ed
Smallpeace offered to sell me the cabin he'd built on the edge of town
when he was going to get married. His intended bride had run off with a
fur trapper and Ed had decided to remain living with his parents.  

 The cabin was ok - two bedrooms, a bathroom and a large living area that
had a kitchen come laundry tucked in one corner. I had electricity, cable
TV and even a phone. The heat came from a fireplace in the middle of the
room - it was round, believe it or not, like the ones you see witches and
wizards using in cheesy TV shows. It chucked out more than enough heat,
and there was a furnace as well for the bitter cold parts of winter. 

 Not that I got to spend any time there the first two months. Sasha Rose
from the General Store took one look at me when she got back from her
monthly shopping trip and made me sleep in her spare room while the entire
town lined up to push four course meals down my throat. I mean, sure, I
was underweight and all - the dieticians at the hospital hated me to death
`cos I never gained weight on their marvellously balanced and healthy but
disgusting diet. It felt like they'd cut off my appetite with my leg. I
was never hungry but forced myself to eat what they put in front of me in
order to avoid getting my dinner through a tube or something. 

 The whole town mothered me and for some reason it didn't seem too bad.
Sarge asked me to help him keep the dogs fit - that's how I first found
out I could still handle a team and walk in snow shoes, though it was way
harder than before. 

 The new guy on post - he was called that for a long time - was polite
enough, but I got the feeling that he didn't fit into the town too well.
People used to wait until Sarge was available rather than talking to him -
which must have sucked big time. I'd managed to arrive in late spring and
a few of the local guys asked me to help with framing extensions and stuff
- winter meant people stayed inside longer, which led to an explosion in
the birth rate if you get my meaning. 

 I learned that the stuff I'd done in woodwork in high school was good
anywhere and I could climb a ladder if I was careful. I became pretty
adept at juggling the schedule between the mechanic side of the business
and unskilled labour everywhere else. The fact that Snowy had hand picked
me to take his job helped a lot - people accepted me for his sake at
first, and eventually for my own. 

 They saved me those people - dragged me out of bed fucking early to go to
work and kept me up so damn late that I slept right through without
waking, sometimes not even dreaming. They force fed me - something my
mothers back in Chicago would have appreciated no end and then backed off
once they were sure I could do it myself. They even knew enough to let me
fall on my ass a couple of times - forcing me to ask for the help I
needed, rather than just forcing the help. The more I stood on my own two
feet - or foot if ya want to be anal about it - the better I felt about
the world. By the time they agreed to release me back to the wild - or
rather my cabin - it was winter and I was once more a decent human being,
fit for the company of others. 

 Some of the local girls had made interested noises in my direction, which
I ignored. The only person I wanted in my bed wasn't likely to ever be
there, and I felt too much of a freak to let them see me naked anyway.
There were other scars on my body, not just the amputation, and I didn't
want to get into how it all happened. No one asked and I never
volunteered, so things were cool. 

 Stony Creek was along the pipeline, so every few weeks we got a crew of
roughnecks - the guys who worked the line - into town. Whenever a crew
showed up I went to the local bar/diner and helped out in there. Ralf and
Mandy Croft worked the place, and Mandy would stay behind the bar while I
cleared the tables and collected empties as well as acting as waiter. That
saved her from getting her ass pinched by the crews and Ralf getting a
broken bottle or glass in his face when he went after the crews for
pinching her in the first place. Sarge had used to do that job, but it was
hard for him to keep it and the post running with the new guy needing
directions to blow his nose. He was a bit like Turnbull in a way, and I
kinda felt sorry for him. This was his first posting and I think he was
missing the attractions of the larger cities. 

 The diner was set up like a restaurant with the bar along the back wall
and the kitchen just off that. The local families that came to the diner
part could sit to one side out of the way of the drinkers - though the
families with little kids avoided the place when the crews were in. It was
a good chance for me to line up more work - and also a chance to talk to
people in general. 

 Not all the roughnecks were bad - we had a few crews go through that were
quiet - kept to themselves mostly. A few noisy ones that were hell bent on
drinking the town dry and never succeeded. On the whole things were ok. I
shoulda figured out that by the time I get used to something - by the time
I got a handle on things they go straight to shit. I musta been an axe
murderer or something in my previous life, `cos I can't think of anything
I did in this one that was bad enough to make God hate me. 

 It started with one of the local girls. She was a bit free and easy with
her charms if you know what I mean - she was just this side of standing on
a street corner. Not that you could out here - it was way too cold. I
guess that we kept a special eye on her - no one liked to see her get in
trouble and I guess that gave her a sense of security. That didn't mean
she deserved what happened, but in a way it was all kinda inevitable. 

 Anyway Mary-Sue was in the bar part of the diner that night when the
latest crew rolled on in. They seemed ok at first - a bit loud and
demanding, but not so bad that I was worried about it all. Mary-Sue was in
there flirting as usual. She was just legal, so they fed her a bunch of
beers and she sat on the lap of the crew boss - a guy called Jimmy Walker.
He was a big man, and loud with it. He kept her giggling and he had a hand
up in her crotch kinda, but she was just being Mary-Sue, and so we warned
them about the family audience and left it at that. Her folks came in
sometimes, and that usually made her behave herself better. 

 So her folks arrive - I think they had an inkling of what was going on
and wanted to do right by their kid. She squirms off Walker's lap and sits
beside him almost demure, hanging onto his hand instead. Walker's not the
sharpest tack in the pin board and objects to the change in position. He
gets kinda insistent, and Ralf heads on over while I'm serving dinner to
Sasha Rose and her husband Henry. Mary-Sue's dad heads over too, and the
next thing I know there's some yelling and the old guy goes flying while
Walker's crew surrounds Ralf. 

 "Go get Sarge," I tell Sasha - though Mandy was already on the phone
while the families with kids got the hell out. I grab a pool cue from the
table and gimp on over, whacking my way through the crew and using the
bent coat hanger to stomp on Walker's foot in order to get his attention.
Mary-Sue's was sobbing with her hand to her face and blood running between
her fingers. I see the broken glass she got smacked with and use the pool
cue to get Walker in a headlock. 

 The next thing I know I'm reciting the Miranda - though it's got nothing
to do with Canada - in a kind of unconscious reflex. It sounds
authoritative enough to hold the situation in place until Sarge and the
new guy turn up to arrest Walker properly. Mary-Sue is rushed over to the
clinic - the doc's are flown in once a month and we've got some nurses who
live out here to render initial aid and treatment. I stay in the diner
with Ralf and Mandy, helping clean up and making sure that the roughnecks
that weren't arrested don't hang around. 

 When the diner's closed I stop by the post to see what the Sarge is gonna
do with Walker. He tells me that they're gonna transfer him the day after
tomorrow to be held over for trial. The cells at the post are for short
term only, but Sarge thinks the guy will make trouble if we bail him here,
so he's being sent on to court in the larger town that's about a day away
from us. 

 I figure that's the end of it as I give my statement and Sarge puts his
hand on my shoulder as I gimp towards the door. It's like getting a pat on
the back from your dad - you feel proud that you lived up to his
expectations. Even though I'm way too old to be feeling that way, and am
some kind of a freak for even thinking it, I grin at him and head for
home. 

 Next day I'm working on the sled that the clinic nurses use to visit
their closer patients when I hear the shots. I grab hold of the nearest
piece of firewood and head out to the street, keeping my head down and
shuffling along awkwardly as my nerves jangle and fire like those damn
dogs and the bell. I've been a cop too long to be stupid, and look out
into the street cautiously as the sound of a different gun sounds. 

 I spot the official jeep from the post in the street, and the crumpled
red figure in front of it would seem to indicate that one of my friends
has been hit. My stomach clenches in an ugly manner as the uninjured
Mountie - I can't tell who it is - returns fire from inside the post. 

 The roughnecks are out there, holed up behind another vehicle - one of
the trucks used to transport gear and supplies I guess - and they've only
got three rifles between them. I curse under my breath and wiggle back
around the corner. I find myself some rocks out of the garden that the
nurses have set up alongside the clinic - though at the moment there's
nothing growing in it - and go back to my place as the roughnecks start
yelling about letting their leader go. I fish out my glasses and put them
on, and then let fly with the three rocks as quick as I can. 

 I hit two of the guys with a rifle and shatter a window with the third
rock. The guy that's still conscious yells and turns to fire at me when
who ever it is in the post fires again and wings him hard enough for the
fucker to drop the damn rifle. I'm out and running as fast as I can,
kicking the rifles out into the street and slamming my fist into the guy
who's now bleeding hard and yelling loudly about police brutality. Then
I'm on my knees beside the red serge. 

 It's Sarge and he's choking on pink frothy blood. I know that's bad from
Chicago - I've seen cops die from it and civilians too. I lift him up onto
my lap so he can breath and put pressure on the wound, trying to seal it
with my hand so he can get some lung function back. He moans and opens his
eyes slowly, gasping up at me. His lips move but he can't talk, and his
eyes are full of questions. 

 "We got them - it's all under control," I tell him, as the new guy
finishes securing the cuffs on his prisoners while the nurses do a rough
field dressing and check that they're all still breathing, "Take it easy
Sarge. We'll get you into the clinic and you'll be fine. There's help on
the way." 

 I can see in his eyes that he doesn't expect to be here when it arrives
and it pisses me off for a moment. I can't lose another friend, they help
me to exist out here and I have to hang on so tightly to what's left of me
that for a moment I'm feeling the same kind of pain that Sarge is. 

 "Stay here, Sarge," I growl, "Don't you fucking die on me. We need you,
dammit." 

 He smiles at me and one hand rests on mine above his wound. I kinda choke
up at that - he's saying goodbye and I know it, but I don't want to lose
my friend. He's meant a lot to me. In a scary way it's like I'm losing
Fraser - I look up to both of them like some kind of hero, though I love
Frase in a way that I could never imagine with Sarge. At the same time I
see his understanding. He'll fight this - the agony, and the crippling
injury to stay if I tell him to. I can't be that cruel - Sarge is like one
of those wild animals I've tracked along the pass - beautiful in freedom,
pathetic in captivity. I can't force him to live like me. 

 "God, Sarge," I whisper, "I'm gonna miss you so much. Thank you for
everything." 

 His hand tightens over mine for a long moment and all the noise and fuss
in the world just goes away. For a bit we're alone in the universe, and
it's like we're hearing everything the other has left unsaid. I smile at
him and nod once, get a faint smile in return and then he becomes a leaden
weight in my arms as the light and warmth leaves his eyes. After a minute
his hand falls away and I rock him gently to me in farewell before looking
up into the eyes of the head nurse. I shake my head and she closes his
eyes tenderly. I close my eyes as they take him out of my arms and get up
slowly, stumbling in the snow. 

 As soon as I can move again I head into the post to help the new guy
secure his prisoners and wait for reinforcements.  

 What's that phrase they use? `All over bar the shouting' - that's how it
was with us two days later. The roughnecks were gone - locked the fuck up
and outta our hair - and Sarge was being sent home for burial in the
family plot. Turns out he had fifteen brothers and sisters and a large
extended family. Who knew? 

 The extra Mounties that seem to show up in an emergency and then
disappear again...disappeared and we were left waiting for Sarge's
replacement. He's due to get here in two or three weeks time - they've got
just the guy in mind apparently but he's out of contact at the moment and
they don't wanna say anything until they've told him so we're kinda in
limbo here. 

 And while we're waiting the new guy sits alone in the post and the town
brings any problems they've got to me. Normally I'd have just let it be
and done the job - once a cop always a cop and I can do what's needed,
damaged or not - but one of the unspoken things in Sarge's eyes was for me
to take care of the new guy. I realise one night with a start that I don't
even know his full name. I mean he's Constable Stevens - I know that much
- but I don't know his first name or anything about him - not even if he
likes curling. 

 So I start taking him lunch and dinner every day, and sit down and
discuss the work with him `cos even though I know he can do the job I want
him to get out into the community a bit more and he ain't gonna do that
sitting in the post. And I take the opportunity during one of those
discussions to ask what his first name is. 

 "Stephen," he says and the green eyes darken a little in embarrassment.
Jesus on a stick - his parents called him Stephen Stevens? What did they
call his sister? Uh oh - not good. I said that last bit out loud and he
goes kinda red - like I'm poking fun at him. 

 "Stephanie," the answer is painful and I shut my mouth firmly. I am NOT
going to laugh at this guy. Nor am I gonna ask if he's got anyone else at
home - the whole idea is freaking me right out. 

 "So, Steve, call me Ray," I tell him casually - he's still calling me sir
or Mr Kowalski, though I don't usually answer to that last one. Sounds too
much like my dad. 

 "Thank you kindly," Steve replies and the red fades, as we get right back
into the possible paths a suspected poacher might be using. Since I moved
here I've been keeping the post dog team exercised and trained - I loved
mushing when I was on the quest (once I'd gotten the hang of it) and Sarge
didn't mind lending the dogs to me for some of my runs out to distant
jobs. Damaged as I was I'd been disqualified from driving, though I could
manage automatics ok. I wasn't going to get a special hand control car
fitted up for out here - or anywhere else for that matter - it was too
damn embarrassing. The use of the sled means I'm mobile and have a good
idea of the region - there are no road signs so I've learnt where the
dangers and shortcuts are. 

 Steve isn't a dog man - he has a hesitant touch on the sled that the dogs
resent. I've seen them refuse paths that they'd take with me, and I've
often packed him in as the passenger when we had to go anywhere. Even
Sarge said I was `very useful' with the dogs, which was `fucking good' in
Chicago speak. I didn't let it go to my head - there are plenty people
around here that are better than me, and I make no bones about it. 

 So Steve and I start doing patrol together and we nail the poacher pretty
damn quick. We work well together and I manage to get him a little more
involved in the community. My main ally in this is Sasha Rose and her
husband. By use of some outright begging I manage to get Sasha interested
in asking Steve over to share the once-a-week family dinner that she's
enforcing under threat of moving me out of my cabin and back into her
spare room. I'm still a little too skinny for the weather here - not
enough body fat to combat the cold, and when I catch the flu it really
knocks me on my ass - so she started this routine in order to make sure I
was eating. I eat about a weeks rations in one meal and Steve comes in for
some mothering when he confesses that he can't cook to save his life.
Literally. Turns out he almost starved to death on a weeklong march
because he couldn't get his rations prepared `adequately'. I take this to
mean he was eating them raw. 

 Sasha pulls me aside after that first dinner - Steve's been ordered to
come in twice a week, and she said that I'd better come too so he wouldn't
feel uncomfortable - for a Canadian she's damn sneaky, I know that it's
the other way around and she's trying to feed me up again - and tells me
I'm a better man than her. 

 That makes me laugh so hard I almost fall over and she glares at me as if
she's reconsidering my baking allotment. I sober up pretty fast then -
Sasha's scones are too good to risk. I also wanted it clear that I wasn't
all that good - if Sarge hadn't asked me... 

 "I kinda promised Sarge," I told her, "He was worried, you know he was." 

 "Sarge," her face softened, "He's tried ever since Constable Stevens
arrived to get the boy to loosen up and come out more. You've succeeded.
Be proud, honey. I am." 

 Damn - not another mother. She ever comes to Chicago and I'm toast. I
grin and kiss her cheek - like I did my mom's and Ma Vecchio's as well -
and head out with my bag of baking to walk Steve back to the post and
myself home. 

 When we get there the computer - yeah I was surprised too - is making its
polite email noise so I hang around in case it's something about our new
Sergeant. Steve looks up at me after a moment with a big grin on his face
and a lot of the tension eased in his eyes. I feel kinda bad that I didn't
notice it until it was gone, but what can you do. 

 "What - did you get promoted?" it's that kind of a grin, and I'm grinning
along in sympathy. His eyes widen and he shakes his head real fast.
Steve's not an ambitious guy - it shows too. He's not lazy or careless or
anything, and he's really very thorough on the job, but he also seems
content with what he has. I think he's happy to take orders, though he's
no yes man. We've disagreed over the past week and a bit and he sticks to
his guns. 

 "Oh no - I'm not due for promotion for years to come," Steve tells me
earnestly, "It's the new post commander. We're getting Sergeant Fraser.
Your old partner." 

 I'm shocked, I have to admit it, and I sit down hard. Frase, here? Where
he can see my damage and me? God, how can I handle that? I mean the guy is
the love of my life and I've never told him that. What if he pities me? 

 Steve chanting my name while trying to force a chocolate-laced cup of
coffee on me finally breaks through and I wake up just enough to take the
cup and calm him down. He crouches in front of me and I grab his shoulder.


 "I never told him about me being damaged," I blurt out, "Hell I cut my
whole freaking family off. Don't tell him ok? I'll have to do it, but not
straight away..." 

 "I promise," Steve said solemnly, gaining a friend for life," I won't
tell him."  

 Fraser's stuff is shipped up to us by plane - and I grin at the
dilapidated trunk that used to belong to his father. His clothes and
mementoes and a whole box of books and they all end up at my place
because...well because I take them there and the whole damn town just
seems to assume that we'll be sharing living quarters. 

 He's coming in by dog team - his father's animals that taught me how to
sled. He wants to get an idea of the territory - that's what he says in
the email he sent Steve and I grin at him. He's been scrubbing the post
from top to bottom and refining everything in the archives like the
Queen's about to drop in and check it. 

 I set up Fraser's desk from the boxes of stuff there and the supplies in
the post. I manage to get it looking just like the one in the consulate
and I go put a bowl down for Dief in the usual spot, after warning Steve
that it's going there. Despite our best efforts Steve is still a little on
the outer limits of the community, though Sasha is rooting for him now and
that goes a long way out here. Steve's worried about it until I point out
that I'm going to be known as the guy who took over from Snowy for the
rest of my life. He calms down a little after that and manages to beg
Sasha for some of those oatmeal and raisin cookies that the whole town
love. Fraser liked the too I remember and I guess Steve wants to make a
good impression on his new boss, though I'll be rooting for him. 

 The stuff that I took home goes in the spare room - the trunk at the foot
of the bed where it always goes and the books out on my shelves, though I
made sure that he would be able to find them. I even stow his clothes away
for him. I figure it can't get any more welcoming than that and settle
down to fret my dumb heart out while I'm waiting. I feel like I've got a
second chance to make him see me in the context of crazed weasels here,
but do I want him to look at me that hard? He'll be seeing the damaged
remnant that used to be Detective Kowalski of the 2-7 as well. I'm not too
proud of that guy.  

 Chapter Two 

 As we go up the front steps of the post a quiver runs through Dief so
strong it's almost a shudder. I pause at the top step and he looks up at
me whining eagerly. 

 "Who's here?" I ask him, not understanding what he's trying to say - my
wolf has quite a thick accent when excited. Constable Stevens and Dief
never formed a close attachment during our brief sojourn here with Ray.
The post is still a man down; though my superiors tell me they are still
looking for a third man to come out here. I open the door and Dief tracks
straight to the left and the bowl of water sitting there as if he was
expecting it. 

 "Sergeant Fraser!" the constable leaps up and smiles warmly, "Welcome to
Stony Creek, sir. Was your journey a pleasant one?" 

 "Yes, thank you," I reply politely, "I found it most useful in refreshing
my memory of the district." 

 Stevens smiles at me and I hang my coat up on the rack along with my
Stetson. His uniform is immaculate and what I've seen of the post so far
is as well. I turn and head towards my desk, stopping in surprise when I
catch sight of it. The layout is exactly like it had been in the Consulate
in Chicago and for a moment I have to repress a fierce longing to be back
there. I did not enjoy the city, but I loved the people there - or at
least one person... 

 It didn't take long after the end of our quest for me to realise that
what I felt for Stanley Raymond Kowalski was not symbolic or brotherly
love. Had I been able to find a way to communicate this to the man I would
have done so immediately. When I failed to contrive a way to do that and
we lost touch I decided it was for the best and buried the feelings as
deeply as I could. I had my duty and that would be enough. 

 "I took the liberty of arranging for lunch to be delivered sir," Stevens'
voice breaks in on my musings and I make agreeable noises before
requesting the reports for the last few weeks. I've barely had a chance to
sit down with Stevens and review them when Dief sets up a most unseemly
fuss, dancing about the door and yelping like a puppy. 

 "Ah lunch," Stevens says blandly over the noise and I repress a sigh. I
took the post here when it was offered for the memories it held. Ray and I
were happy here together. In addition to which it was a chance to work
with a good community, although I expected some difficulties in the form
of resentment for the `new man'. 

 The door to the post opens and Dief streaks out. Someone steps in quickly
and shuts the door, leaning back on it and snickering in amusement as Dief
creates a fuss from outside the door now. He's so loud in expressing his
displeasure that I make a note to speak to him about professional
behaviour on duty and then my eyes take in the person leaning on the door.


 "Ray!" if my voice and expression are unguarded, the slip is worth the
pleasure I see in his face and eyes. He's horribly thin, and pale; there's
a shadow behind the joy in his eyes that worries me. Before I can say
anything else, or do more than get up out of my chair he laughs and uses
the name that I`ve missed hearing ever since we separated. 

 "Hey Frase," he grins and straightens up a little, "Looking good. I
brought lunch." 

 "Allow me," Stevens leaps up and hurries over to remove the bags in Ray's
thin hands. 

 "Probably a good idea Steve - Dief might eat the lot if he knocks me
down," Ray rolls his eyes, takes a deep breath and opens the door again.
To my dismay Diefenbaker immediately knocks him down and sits on him,
whining and licking like an untrained puppy. Ray is laughing and replying
to the thousand and one things Dief is telling him in a breathless
fashion. For a moment I drink in the sight of my best friend and future
life mate reconnecting. Then I move to break it up. Jealousy is an ugly
emotion and I refuse to feel it because my wolf gets to stick his tongue
in Ray's ear in greeting and I don't. 

 Dief is highly reluctant to get off Ray, and Ray is in no hurry to push
him aside either, seeming content to be slobbered on. We finally manage to
prise Dief away when Ray promises to let Dief sit on the couch with him
tonight - informing me casually that my effects are in the spare room of
his home and he doesn't intend to release them into my custody. 

 I take this as a good sign and don't argue. When he finally gets up -
Constable Stevens pulls my partner up off the floor - I see first hand the
limp that drags at his right leg. 

 "It's why I'm no longer a cop," Ray brushes it off, "I'll tell you later,
ok?" 

 I know that tone of voice and agree quietly. I can be patient. Ray will
tell me later...tonight if I have any say in the matter. We settle down
with Dief pressed firmly against Ray's leg and eyeing me significantly. I
am unable to decipher his meaning and concentrate on my food instead,
shooting little side glances at my sorely missed partner. 

 Despite the amount of food he eats at lunch I can see that we are going
to have to work harder at increasing his weight. His clothes swim on him -
though they were once the right size. Despite the smile on his face and
the light tone in his voice he is saddened - almost depressed. He has made
friends with Stevens, though the constable has yet to reach the subtle
nuances of my friend. He doesn't appear to be in any pain, though he sits
still in the chair - a most unusual sight. Ray Kowalski was always
restless - sitting with him during a stakeout could be exhausting as he
fidgeted and fussed in his seat. I almost decide to ensure that he doesn't
walk too far with me today when I notice something else. 

 Constable Stevens treats my friend with deference and respect, but also
seems to back off when discussing any physical activity. He doesn't push
Ray about his limitations - and there must be some if his leg was injured
badly enough to disqualify him as a detective. They draw me into a
discussion of my sledding team and I realise that Ray is responsible for
the one kept at the post. I agree to let Ray continue to use the team when
we don't require them for official business and suggest that he take me
out to inspect them - in reality a way to get a few moments alone with the
man I want to spend the rest of my life with.  

 Ray leads the way out the back while Diefenbaker stops to investigate the
bowl of water again. The post is designed in a sort of horseshoe shape,
with the post forming the bottom part of the shoe, running along the main
street. On the left side are the barracks and the cells; on the right side
are the garage and storage sheds. The team's kennels are in the back of
the garage, and let out into the horseshoe middle. It allows us to have a
staging area for the teams and an exercise yard as well. At the moment it
is covered in snow, even the walkways. 

 I see this in the moment that Ray opens the door and steps forward. He
goes down the single step and there is a horrific clanging noise. He
stumbles back with a yell and I snatch him to my chest, both arms wrapped
around him and holding on tightly. I see with sick horror that a large
animal trap has sprung almost closed around his right leg - in fact it is
barely open enough to admit the bone between it's jaws. 

 Diefenbaker start forward with a whine and Ray yells incoherently,
flailing his hand to push Dief back into the post. 

 "Steve grab Dief - more traps!" the words take a moment to make sense and
then I realise he is warning Stevens to protect my wolf partner from the
possibility that more traps have been laid. I am too preoccupied with
wondering why there is so little blood gushing from what must be an
agonising injury to pay much attention. 

 "Ray," I whisper and a hand comes up to pat my arms gently, offering
comfort in a way that makes my heart ache. I realise that I am shaking and
sweat beads my face as my stomach rolls at the thought of what this is
doing to the man I love. 

 "It's ok Ben," he says in a very tired voice, "It didn't get my leg." 

 For a wild moment I think that he's right - maybe it just caught the
material of his pants. Then he shifts and I see his boot inside the trap.
Thinking he must be in shock, I turn my head to find Stevens and have him
call for help and bring a blanket. He is at my shoulder, his knife out and
a sick look in his eyes. 

 "You want my knife, Ray?" he calls and Ray shakes his head, sighing
heavily and slumping against me. For a moment I tighten my grip, thinking
he has finally fainted, but I realise that he is shaking too with some
suppressed emotion. 

 "I can't balance well enough to bend over," his voice is thick and dry,
"You'll have to do it. Cut near the knee..." 

 "Ray!" I exclaim, "We should call for medical assistance! Constable..." 

 "With all due respect sir, you are not in full possession of the facts.
Mr Kowalski is better equipped to handle this," Stevens interrupts and I
glare at him. Before I can do or say anything he slips to one side and
starts slicing at Ray's trousers near the knee as directed. When he has
severed the trouser leg Stevens slams the knife into the wooden step and
reaches hesitantly underneath the material. Ray begins to shake harder,
and in a very little voice he says, 

 "Run your finger around the top to loosen it." 

 And the next thing I know my partner is pulling his leg up and there's a
noise and he's pushing back so hard I sort of stumble back. Ray makes a
hopping motion and joins me on the step, leaving behind... 

 I swallow hard. The bottom of the trouser leg gapes obscenely around the
prosthesis and I suddenly understand what Dief was trying to say with
those long looks. He was leaning against that limb. The thought that Ray
was injured so badly that he'd lost a leg and never told me about it
causes my mouth to override my brain and my feelings to override my
control. 

 "Why didn't you tell me?" I blurt and feel Ray tense within my embrace. I
pull him even closer and shiver at the implications. I could have lost him
and never known. 

 Stevens opens the door and then comes back to stand by my partner. Ray
puts a hand on Stevens shoulder, and accepts the one wound around his
waist. He hops into the post, the empty trouser leg flapping in gruesome
reminder. 

 "With your permission sir, I'll go up to Ray's cabin and retrieve a few
items," Constable Stevens doesn't even wait for my permission, he's out
the door as soon as Ray is seated in the chair he occupied for lunch. 

 Ray won't meet my eyes; he seems focussed entirely on Dief's ear as he
rubs his too thin hands into the ruff of silver fur at the wolf's neck. I
begin to understand his presence and condition a bit better. Ray will not
accept pity - in fact he'll rarely accept sympathy unless he's asking for
it. He would see himself as damaged. Perhaps that's why he's settled here
- the people here would accept him in the basis of his work, not his
physical requirements. 

 "I'm sorry Ben," his voice is clogged with unshed tears. We're both
shaking in reaction, though I am rapidly regaining control of myself. I
feel sick that he thinks he must apologise for injuries that were probably
suffered in the line of duty. My partner can be very selfless in that
regard. 

 "Understood," I forestall any further conversation, "You can tell me when
you feel more yourself." 

 "I was going to tell you, I swear," his face is frightened, but his eyes
latch onto my face with determination. I allow my mask to slip, and let
him see the love I feel for him, knowing that at the moment all he'll
really notice is the absence of pity. 

 "I do not doubt that," I reply, "You would never lie to me about
something like this. One day, when you feel you can bear it I would like
to know how...but not now Ray. The trap did not injure you in any way?" 

 In other words did the prosthesis hurt you when it was jarred like that?
He shakes his head, and I stand still while his eyes search mine so
thoroughly I feel as if I am naked in front of him. He drops his gaze
after a moment and tells me he isn't hurt. I decide he needs some time to
recover out of my presence, and as I am far more mobile than he I tell him
I'm going to check the yard to see if there are any other dangers. He
makes me promise to stay on the steps and I do - seeing all too clearly
that his nerves can't take any more. 

 There is a supply of firewood to one side of the door and I throw pieces
of it at suspect patches of snow - hard. I discover three more traps that
way and relieve some of my tension at the same time. Stevens comes out to
join me, draping a blanket over the first trap. 

 "He's just changing, sir," Stevens retrieves his knife, slipping it back
into it's sheath after a glance at the blade, "I would like to apologise
for my earlier words, sir. It was not my place to interrupt you like
that." 

 "I understand why you did," it's as close as I want to come to a thank
you and Stevens seems relieved at my words. We begin to discuss the best
way to ensure that there is no further danger in the staging yard, as the
dogs are frequently let out here to exercise while the kennel is cleaned. 

 Ray comes out in different trouser and boots, limping a little harder and
bundled up in his coat and gloves. He makes arrangements with me about
dinner and nods to Stevens once before heading out. Dief whines at him,
but stays with me when Ray tells him to.  

 We do not discover the criminal that laid the traps that afternoon.
Neither of us is well focussed, and Stevens is also upset. I imagine it
must be unnerving to be told to touch a friend's amputated limb in such an
intimate manner and I finally call halt to the proceedings - wanting to
get to Ray as quickly as I can. 

 Constable Stevens furnishes me with directions; though I can probably
locate the cabin using my own tracking abilities with Dief's mixed in. The
cabin is fairly new and well maintained. It is a good size and I spot the
dish that tells me cable TV is installed there, as well as a phone. 

 The coat rack is by the door and again there is water and food down for
Dief in the accustomed area. My heart leaps at the thought that Ray is
trying so hard to make us welcome. I realised on my walk to my new home
that any declaration of my feelings would be misconstrued at this point
and have hardened myself to the effort of concealing them for a while
longer. 

 Ray's eyes tell me he has been crying, though the delicious smell of
dinner permeates the comfortable interior. Ray has become tidier since he
moved here - though I realise the clutter that he lived in in Chicago
belonged to a different man. This Ray is still bleeding, though his
physical wounds are long since healed. I can wait to regain my Ray - the
funny ball of energy that I first fell in love with before I discovered
the beautifully complex man beneath. 

 "That smells good," I smile and his face lightens a little in relief. 

 "Yeah, it'll be ready soon. You wanna wash up and change?" he limps from
the kitchen and shows me the bathroom and my bedroom. I wash up and then
go to change, reflecting that this room will do until I can join him in
his. Reminding myself to be patient and calm I return to the living area
for dinner. 

 Ray is an excellent cook - despite the fact that he seemed to live on
take out in Chicago. The meals I had the pleasure of eating at his
apartment there fade in comparison with the one he now serves me. I praise
him with a smile and Dief begs a few scraps. 

 He asks me about my last posting over dinner and that is all the excuse I
need to fill the silence. I tell him about the people there and Dief adds
his own comments. It's like old times for us and I see some of the bruised
look fade from his eyes when he realises I am not going to push for
details about his accident. Any questions I ask in return are limited to
his time spent here in Stony Creek and general inquiries about our mutual
friends in Chicago - most of whom he now writes to. Ma Vecchio apparently
sends him a `care package' now and then - we eat some of it for desert and
I help with the clean up, just like old times. 

 We settle to a game of chess with the television on in the background. He
still takes chocolate in his coffee and has secured the tea blend that I
favour above all. In fact I sneaked a quick look in the kitchen while he
was in the bathroom. Many of my favourite foods rest on the shelf along
with his. Ray meant to keep me at the cabin then, even after he'd told me
about his injury. I am warmed straight through at the thought that he does
feel something for me, and head back to the chessboard, sitting just as I
hear the door open. 

 Dief chooses that moment to announce his wish to go out and Ray pulls his
coat on, telling me to stay where I am, as I look tired. I concur, adding
that I wish to retire for the night and would he mind? 

 Ray smiles at me and wishes me sweet dreams before limping outside to
walk Dief. I head for my room, and lay in bed listening to him lock up the
cabin for the night - unnecessary out here, but a long standing habit is
not easily broken - before he retires to his own room. I hear Dief
accompany him and their quiet argument as Dief makes it clear he intends
to sleep with Ray tonight. I quell another flash of jealousy and go to
sleep. 

 At some point in the night I hear a few odd noises as Ray goes to the
bathroom, but the cabin is soon still again.  

 Chapter Three 

 The next morning it is on the tip of my tongue to ask Ray why he did not
call me when he was injured, but something holds me back. In hindsight I
realise that the question would have been counter productive at that stage
- Ray had not yet learned to trust me with his new body and I had not yet
learned to read his new signals. I remain in bed until I hear him limping
in the kitchen. When I emerge from my room he is fully dressed and gives
me a little smile and a faint good morning. 

 Breakfast is quick - Ray tells me he has to get out of town to an engine
that has seized and he'll be taking the dogs unless I want them. I remind
him that my father's team is here too and he grins, slaps himself on the
forehead and waves goodbye - out the door before I am with Dief whining
sullenly when Ray tells him to stay with me. I realise that he's a little
worried about the implications of yesterday and speak to Dief about it as
we walk into town. It won't do for us to make Ray uncomfortable in his own
home. Dief growls something about broken sleep, but I ignore him, pointing
out that he chose to share Ray's bed last night - he was not invited. 

 I reach the post just as the mail delivery does - it's dropped by plane
and Constable Stevens gets up early to retrieve it, taking the bag to the
general store for processing and accepting the bundle of documents that
belong to the post. I recognise the writing on one of the envelopes
straight away - I've had to decipher Turnbull's ornate yet messy hand more
than once and am surprised that the mailing clerks were able to as well.
The Chicago postmark has Stevens eyes flash in recognition, but he quite
properly shows no interest in the letter and I decide to open it later.
There is a mark under the stamp that tells me the letter is personal - I
recall it from my time with Turnbull in Chicago. 

 We are unable to discover any relevant clue as to the owner of the traps
that so nearly injured one of us. Despite our best efforts they yield
little evidence to examination. They are well oiled and cared for. The
prosthesis - I have a hard time connecting it to my partner - is dented
and scratched, leading me to believe that if I had stepped in the trap it
would have cut my leg off just above the ankle. I feel sickened by the
thought and hope it never occurred to Ray. The last he needs is to be
reminded of his own injury, the circumstances of which I am sure are
responsible for the shadow on his bright soul. 

 A day of careful inquiries leads us nowhere. The people we do speak to
are upset at the incident - even more so when they realise that Ray has
become the victim. Ray has become a real part of the community here and I
decide to play along that angle a little - the townsfolk are much more
likely to pass on information to help someone they care for. 

 Our efforts aren't fruitful, and I return to the cabin before Ray does. I
start dinner - a stew that I know he'll like - and then sit on the couch
to read my letter from Turnbull. There is a second envelope sealed inside
the first, and Ray's handwriting draws my eye. I quickly read the note
Turnbull sent with the envelope, cutting through the blither as if
Turnbull were standing in front of me, rather than written words on a
page. Ray left the envelope at the Consulate in Chicago with the
instructions that Turnbull was to mail it on should I attempt to contact
my partner. The fact that we were in the same location now and the letter
would arrive after I did had not deterred my former colleague from
following Ray's instructions. 

 I shake my head, put the letter to one side and run my fingers over the
envelope that is still sealed. The handwriting is weak - I believe that
Ray wrote this while still in hospital - and unlike his usual errant
sprawl. Energy used to add little flourishes and loops to his letters, so
if Ray wrote anything when he was excited or in a hurry it became almost
illegible to anyone but Ray. Of course Ray was usually excited or in a
hurry - though perhaps I should say that Detective Kowalski was. It is
possible that I am no longer dealing with the man I knew in Chicago -
grievous injuries can change a person, though what changes I have seen so
far are the result of depression rather than personality. 

 I opened the envelope in steam from Ray's kettle, not wanting to risk
damage to it. Dief pressed closely against my leg and nudges me until I
agree to read the enclosed note out loud. I settle on the couch and took a
deep breath, gathering my wits. 

 The further I read the more my throat aches. Unshed tears burn my eyes at
the simple retelling of the selfless act of courage and sacrifice that led
to Ray's injuries. My heart seizes at the litany of pain as I realise that
he had almost died before they could get to him, and again on the
operating table as they struggled to put him back together. I did weep
when he explained about cutting himself off from the people who loved him
the most, unwilling to risk his image in their eyes. There were a few
splotches on the hospital stationary that spoke of bitter tears. The cost
of writing this simple letter was carved clearly into the page, shaped in
the letters and words he had written for me. 

 My heart broke as I realised that the man I loved felt that he was too
damaged and useless to be of use to his family and friends. The despair
told me that had he not been called to Stony Creek it is very possible
that I'd have lost Ray to suicide. I had to stop for a moment then. How
could my beautiful man not know that he was loved for himself and not his
ability to be a detective and athletic son? I felt angry with the people
we'd left behind in Chicago, that they hadn't pushed hard enough to make
him see this clearly. 

 It was the final line that made me realise that my feelings for Ray
weren't one sided. Before I even had a chance to assimilate that idea his
footsteps sounded on the deck. I drop the letter on the table and beat
Dief to the door, flinging it open and sweeping him into my arms, pulling
him off balance and inside eagerly. 

 "I love you too," I hardly recognised my own voice as I held him to me,
trying to communicate through touch all I wanted to say, "I love you Ray
Kowalski. I love you." 

 "Oomph," was the unromantic response, though his arms were tight around
my chest. Dief was pressing in against us both and whining loudly. It was
that eventually that made me loosen my grip as I turned to remonstrate
with him. 

 "Ben!" Ray clutched at me and I felt the tears on his face as he pressed
it into my neck, "Oh God I'm so sorry! I love you too and I can't stop!
You deserve so much more - not some damaged ex cop. Just, please don't
leave me! I can't bear it!" 

 "Never!" I vow and Dief is shocked to silence at the fear in his pack
mates voice, "I love you and I will spend the rest of my life with you." 

 We rock there in the half open doorway until I manage to nudge it shut. I
work Ray out of his outerwear without letting go of him at any point and
then manage to get us both onto the couch, lying on our sides with Ray
wrapped around me and shaking as he sobs silently. I am content to ride
out the storm with him in my arms. 

 At some point I realised that where our legs are tangled I can feel the
unyielding metal of the prosthesis against my own. The cold reminder makes
me tighten my grip and I scatter kisses over the honey blond mop that
covers Ray's head. He sobs harder and burrows in so close he's almost in
my clothes with me. I croon and shush mindlessly, my hands stroking him
even as I kiss everything I can reach.	

 When he finally lifts it out of my soaked shirt, Ray's face is a mess.
His eyes are swollen almost shut and his face is swollen. There is the
usual mess of mucous that occurs after a crying jag, but that doesn't
deter me from kissing his swollen eyes and blotched cheeks. Before either
of us can speak a bell sounds in the kitchen and both of our stomachs
rumble in response. Ray gives a watery sort of chuckle and I drag us both
upright and then off the couch. I kiss his forehead once more and let go
cautiously. 

 "Go wash up while I set the table," I suggest, "I love you." 

 Ray nods, tears swelling once more in red eyes. I brush them away with my
thumb and kiss his eyes one last time before heading firmly away to the
kitchen. I hear Ray stumble and steel myself not to turn and catch him,
freezing only for a moment before heading on to the kitchen. Dief
accompanies Ray anxiously as he heads for the bathroom and I manage to
serve dinner and drinks by the time Ray has returned. 

 He looks a little better - still red around his poor swollen eyes and his
breathing hitches once or twice as he tries to regain control - yet won't
quite meet my eyes. We sit opposite each other and I wrap one foot around
his ankle, smiling a little when he glances at me. He stretches that leg
out towards me a little and smiles hesitantly in return. We eat in silence
and clean the kitchen the same way. 

 I pull Ray back onto the couch, sitting close and holding his hand.
Something tells me that pushing too hard right now is contraindicated and
I'm happy with the simple contact for now. 

 "Ray, I have to say this - and then I'll never bring it up again unless
you do," I feel him tense and watch the colour drain from his face as he
fixes his eyes on the fireplace. I wish he could just see my heart and
know what I was going to say - thus sparing him this moment of fear and
pain. 

 "No matter what you do for a living, or how you do it, I will always love
you. I believe I fell in love on the quest - you were trying so hard to be
all you could. You are a good and decent man and nothing will change you
in my eyes. Of course, should you choose to become a criminal I will be
forced to arrest you, but I will remain faithful while you are in prison
serving your sentence." 

 There's a little snort of laughter and he finally meets my eyes. I let my
guard drop - relishing that I'm almost naked in front of him as I let him
see my heart so clearly. Something in his eyes eases and he sags against
the cushions for a moment before straightening and opening his eyes. The
expression in them! So much love and gratitude and lust and so many more
things, all of them exciting and all of them for me! He flings himself
forward into my arms and kisses me passionately, his lips warm and
restless against mine as his tongue traces my mouth and taps at my lips. I
open obediently and he slips inside. His flavour explodes across my tongue
and I groan, pressing closer for more of it, letting my own tongue move
and touch in return. 

 Ray shifts carefully on the couch, angling his body to press against
mine, drawing me closer and wrapping his arms around my torso. I shift
obligingly, leaning back and drawing him after me until we are once more
tangled on the couch. He stiffens for a moment when he realises our legs
are twined together and the prosthesis is touching me, but I continue to
kiss him lightly, stroking his back with one hand and his hair with the
other. There is a muffled sob and a single hot tear splashes on my face
before he intensifies the kiss again, licking and nibbling at my lips in
delightful movements. 

 His hands stray through my hair and over my face - as if he learning me
by heart. I sigh and hitch him closer, earning a smile. He leaves one hand
tangled in my hair and sends the other down to caress my shoulder and
chest. I arch as he finds and strokes a nipple through my clothes, moaning
into his mouth shamelessly as the sensation screams straight down to my
groin. I feel the first of the blood rush and gasp for air as the man I
love arouses me with his mouth and hands. I can feel him harden as well,
just from the effect he's having on my own body and increase my
appreciative noises as he rubs against my thigh almost as an afterthought.
I cannot let go of his head, feeling that I must continue to caress that
silken hair and stand it up in spikes until it looks the way I became
accustomed to seeing it in Chicago. 

 Before I can lose myself in the sensations that Ray is giving to me a
loud whine interrupts us. Ray pauses and then lifts his mouth away from
mine reluctantly to turn his head. I open my eyes - not realising I had
closed them - to see Dief dancing that dance beside the couch. He whines
again, urgently and Ray muffles his laughter in the crook of my neck. 

 "Looks like number one son needs to go out, dad," he gasps and I laugh
too. I cannot help it - Dief looks so urgently disgusted at the comment.
Ray calms down, kisses me thoroughly for good measure and then heaves
himself up off my body and the couch. 

 "May I join you in bed tonight?" I ask him as I sit up. I keep my eyes
fixed on his face. Ray trusts me with his heart, I know that absolutely -
and I also know that he is still unsure about trusting me with his new
body. That will change in time when he is sure of my reaction to whatever
his clothes are hiding. Some scarring, certainly, and the place where his
leg used to be. 

 "We needn't do anything other than sleep. To be honest I am a little
fatigued," I give him my best honest expression and he grins, a quirk of
his lips that makes my heart pound in joy. He nods and heads into his room
while I go to the door. Dief dashes out the moment I open it and I snag my
coat to follow him, glancing back at the now empty living area of the
cabin. It is home to me already, and I smile. 

 Ray is in bed when I return, lying stiffly with the light off and the
covers pulled up to his chin. I fetch my sleepwear and enter his room,
changing in front of the bed before slipping into the bed and taking his
hand. We lie like that for a while before he sighs and rolls onto his
side, bringing our hands up to his chest. 

 "I'm...ashamed," his voice was low and choked, "You're perfect..." 

 "No," I laid a finger on his lips, "I'm not. No one is. You are beautiful
to me - you always will be. It doesn't matter to me what scars you have. I
can only see you as beautiful." 

 Ray makes a choked little noise and scoots closer hesitantly. I free my
hand and wrap my arms around him, pulling him against my body. I feel the
stump of his leg brush against me and kiss his temple while he quivers and
decides whether to bolt or not. In the end he stays and slowly relaxes in
my warm clasp. Eventually his breathing slows into sleep, leaving me to
marvel at the strength of my partner. A lesser man would have died of
loneliness by now, his heart broken. My Ray's spirit and strength were at
a low ebb, but I have confidence I can help him recover them in time.  

 I am woken by a muffled scream. Ray is fighting to get free from the
comfortable sprawl that we'd fallen asleep in, and in shock I let go,
rolling back to the edge of the bed. Despite the fact that I have let go,
Ray continues to fight and I hear a muffled groan as he thrashes and
convulses in the bed. From the few words he utters I realise that he is
reliving the incident that led to the loss of his leg. My heart breaks at
the pleading tone in his voice and I begin to understand that he was aware
of the medics' efforts to free his trapped body and the final decision to
remove the leg. Dief leaps onto the bed with a growl and dodges a flailing
arm to grip the sweatshirt that Ray had worn to bed. He leans back
sharply, putting his weight into the movement, just in time to stop Ray
from falling from the bed. 

 Ray wakes with a gasp and lays still, panting in remembered terror as his
surroundings slowly become clear to him. Dief lets go carefully and steps
forward to lick the tears from Ray's face. Thin trembling arms wrap
themselves around Dief's neck and he settles onto Ray's chest with a
gentle rumbling noise. I am frozen, unable to move and unwilling to make
him remember that there is an all too human witness to his fear. They seem
totally immersed in each other as Dief soothes my lover back to a
semblance of calm. I put a hand out to them but don't touch; sensing
perhaps that it is best to let Ray recover on his own for a moment. As
though sensing the movement, Ray drops a hand from Dief's fur to rest on
mine. There is a minute tremble in the long fingers and I squeeze gently,
tying to give him some of my strength. 

 "Did I hurt ya, Ben love?" Ray's voice is rough and tired sounding,
though he doesn't remove his face from the fur it is buried in. 

 "Not at all," I am grateful to be reporting the truth. This is the sound
that I heard last night - the aftermath of the nightmare that had woken
Ray and his trip to the bathroom. Even as I realise this, Dief is shifting
back and Ray is letting go to lean over the edge of the bed, pulling out a
pair of crutches and getting up to go to the bathroom with Dief
shepherding him gently. I stretch my hearing anxiously and am relieved to
hear only the sounds of a man relieving himself, then the taps as he
washes his face and hands, mumbling under his breath the whole while. Dief
makes a grumbling noise in response to Ray's low comment and there is a
shaky chuckle in reply as Ray answers him. They have bonded into a pack
already and Ray's comment about number one son is truer than ever. 

 It is while he is sliding the crutches back under the bed that my brain
finally processes what he said and engages my mouth without my permission.


 "What did you call me?" I gasp and Ray turns to look at my left shoulder
- apparently the only point on my body that won't embarrass him. I'm too
stunned to notice - this is the first pet name I've ever been given in my
life and I want to be sure that it wasn't said accidentally. I see no
regret in his eyes; though I suspect he is worried I will think him too
sentimental. I don't - the fact that he has given me a pet name has my
heart soaring. 

 "Ben love," his voice is steady, "Too sappy? I usually call you Frase in
front of everyone, but in my head it was always Ben or Ben love. Not Benny
- that was the real Ray's name for ya." 

 "You are the real Ray," I breathe, "The only Ray I'll ever need. The only
one I love." 

 I seal that vow with a kiss and then tug him back down along my body,
resettling us in the sprawl that the nightmare interrupted. I can feel the
tension in his body and try to ease it with my hands, stroking and
gentling him until he is once more relaxed in my arms. It takes a long
time - his muscles jerk back to tension now and then as his memory throws
something else at him. Gradually the tremors become less frequent and
eventually they die out altogether. We lie in silence for a while and then
he stirs a little, dashing my hopes that he is asleep once more. Dief
lifts his head from it's place on the bed, looking annoyed that Ray won't
cooperate and just go back to sleep. 

 "Ya know, with you here it doesn't seem too bad," there is a drowsy kind
of wonder in his voice and I feel my eyes burn with tears. I kiss the top
of his head and then nuzzle his hair. I wonder how long he's been fighting
the night terrors all alone in this empty cabin. Despite the friendship
and support of the people at Stony Creek my love is still very alone - or
he was. Never again. 

 "I'm here now," I promise, "You're not alone anymore." 

 He lifts his head enough to kiss me and then puts it back in place. I am
gratified to hear his breathing slow to a true sleep rhythm. Dief looks
across the lax body at me and then shifts closer to rest his own head on
Ray's back. I decide not to fuss about it now - after all the wolf did
take care of Ray last night in my place - but I resolve to speak to Dief
about this in the morning. I have no intention of performing in front of
him and I'm pretty sure Ray doesn't either.  

 We discuss our plans for the day over breakfast and Ray mentions that he
needs to set up an appointment in Chicago to get a new prosthesis fitted
to replace the one that was damaged in the trap. I nod my acceptance and
then inform him that I may not be able to accompany him as I have only
just arrived at the post. 

 "It's ok, Ben love, I can handle it," he smiles at me. We've both smiled
a lot this morning, waking together was a wonderful experience and I want
to experience a lot more of it. 

 "It should only take a week or so and I'll go visit the folks while I'm
there. Mom's been pressing me for a while and Ma Vecchio's last letter was
positively demanding." 

 I'm not surprised that he's stayed in touch with the Vecchio's - Ma
Vecchio used to get a very soft look in her eye when speaking to her `son'
and I thought she would try to keep him once both Ray's were finished with
the undercover role. 

 "Perhaps we could spend Christmas there," I suggest, "If you think you
would like to." 

 His face lights up in a smile and he reaches over to touch my hand. He
nods and then gets up, limping around the table to kiss me. It is a soft
tender kiss that none-the-less stirs my groin and speeds my heart. 

 "Woo, what you do to me," Ray gasps when he pulls back, "Now I need a
cold shower." 

 His erection is pressing eagerly against the front of his jeans and I
decide I cannot wait any longer. I want the taste of him and the texture
of him on my tongue. 

 "I can think of a better way to help with that," I whisper and turn in my
chair to press my face against his bulge. It twitches against me and his
breathing hitches. I rub my face in his groin, bringing my hands up to
cradle his buttocks and pull him closer. He pants in reaction and I undo
the jeans quickly, drawing him out before replacing my hands. 

 "You always used to say I like to lick strange things," I chuckle and
take him in my mouth. The fluid weeping from the slit in his penis tastes
a little bitter, then I can taste him and I groan in delight. I run my
tongue over him for the texture and swallow gently as I draw more of him
into my mouth. He is making little noises of pleasure and his hands come
down to caress my head as I work his cock in and out of my mouth, suckling
and licking as the mood takes me. His noises become urgent as he chants my
name over and over again - a litany of pleasure and praise. His cock
twitches hard in my mouth and his hands tighten, trying to warn me and
pull me away. I simply latch on and suck harder, swallowing, as my mouth
is flooded with his come. 

 I lick him clean and tuck his limp penis back into his clothes,
rearranging them so he is dressed properly once more. I become aware of my
own erection, straining against my uniform trousers and shift a little.
Ray straightens up - he had been leaning rather heavily against the table
and me while he panted for breath - and he leans down to kiss me. He draws
back in astonishment at his taste in my mouth and then leans in again for
another sweet kiss. Wordlessly he draws me up to lean on the table while
he sits in my seat and unbuckles my belt before opening my trousers. 

 "Ben love," he sighs and draws my aching erection out, kissing the tip
before sucking me all the way into his mouth and swallowing hard. I come
like a stampeding herd of musk ox, clutching the table in shock as the
pleasure explodes through my body and steals all reason. 

 I regain my awareness cuddled to his chest. He is kissing my hair and
cupping my limp penis in his hand, stroking it with a single finger, while
his other arm cradles me close. He is crooning nonsense to me between
kisses, words of love and reassurance as he rocks to and fro a little. I
feel warmed and comforted and nuzzle into his neck. He chuckles a little. 

 "Signs of life," his voice is loving and I sigh happily, "You back with
me yet?" 

 "Mmmm," I agree and he lets me be. The finger that is stroking my penis
feels so good that I shift into it, looking for more sensation. He
obliges, using his whole hand to stroke and caress me, sending pleasant
aftershocks through my body. I hum in reply and snuggle in close. He feels
like home and safety and I think I tell him this because he kisses my
temple and nuzzles my hair. 

 After a while I have the strength to sit up a little more and I look up
at him with a smile. We share a slow kiss and then press our foreheads
together. He sighs in contentment and then pats my back. 

 "Work," his voice is regretful and I jump in remembrance. He laughs as I
glance at the clock and fumble my uniform back into place. He kisses me
soundly and lets me go, stepping back carefully. 

 "I'll bring ya some lunch," Ray promises and I snatch another kiss. 

 "I love you," I tell him, "I'm sorry I have to go." 

 "I love you too, Ben. It's ok," his face is clear and his tone content,
so I kiss him again before tearing myself away and hurrying to the door.
Dief licks Ray's hand and trots after me, glancing back before he goes
through the door - as reluctant as I am to leave my lover behind. 

 "We'll see him at lunch, Diefenbaker," my voice is stern and Dief shakes
himself hard before matching his pace to mine. If we hurry we can still be
on time.  

 Chapter Four 

 Sasha Rose is expecting me for dinner tonight, and I warn Frase at lunch
that he and Steve are expected too. Steve starts to stammer something
about missing out this time and I fix him with the old Chicago glare. 

 "Yer coming to dinner, Steve. Don't make Sasha send me after you," I
growl and he nods, his face a little red. I keep the glare on him to see
what will happen and he goes redder before starting to shake. I turn it up
a notch and he bursts into gales of laughter, slouching helplessly in his
chair while the sound just pours out of him. I grin hard and nod once
before winking at Frase and ruffling Dief's fur. He looks at me with a
blank expression. 

 "Human humour," I tell him and he snorts before going to see if Steve has
dropped any food in his hilarity. Frase rolls his eyes at me as Steve gets
it together and I grin again. 

 "How are we going with the traps?" I think Frase is surprised that I
asked, but I've got two very good friends and the man I love working here
and I don't want to see them getting hurt. Not now that I've finally got
it on with the man I love. 

 "We're unable to locate sufficient clues to lead us to the perpetrator,"
Frase says in a dark voice and I make a note to tell him again that I'm
ok. The jarring I got wasn't pleasant, and I'm a little tender because of
it, but it could have been worse. It could have been my other leg - or
Frase. 

 "The people we did speak to were all able to account for their hardware
and their time," Steve adds, "Quite a few people have inquired about your
health, Ray." 

 "They only gotta go down to Bucker's cabin to find out about that. I
swear the man is insane - he now wants me to build him a conservatory as
well as the new library," I shake my head, "He wants it shaped like a map
of Canada so he can plant seedlings typical to the area in the right
locations. I pointed out to him that out here it was gonna cost him a
whole pile of money, but ever since he won the state lottery he's been
splurging." 

 Frase gapes at me, but Steve has heard it all before and simply collects
his lunch wrappers. I brought enough for all of us - Dief included -
because it would seem strange to bring in food just for the two of us. Not
to mention rude. Steve is a good man and a friend and doesn't need to be
given the cold shoulder just because his boss and I are starting on a
lifetime of making like crazed weasels. 

 "Mary Sue will be back in town next week," Steve tells me and I feel a
pang of loss. Her face was cut up pretty bad and they flew her out for
plastic surgery. I heard that her face was gonna be scarred for life and I
wondered how she'd manage out here now. She'd always be linked to the
death of Sarge in some people's minds - that and the fact that a lot of
the local mama's were cracking down on their girls' behaviour and
friendships. Mary Sue would be out in the cold socially for a while. 

 "Poor kid," was all I said, "We should go round later Steve, and see if
her folks need anything." 

 Steve nodded and then volunteered to do that himself, which Frase thanked
him kindly for. Obviously my Ben love was planning to monopolise my time
for a while. I remind them both of the time that dinner will be served at
Sasha's house and then head on out after arranging to meet Frase there.
Bucker wants his new library finished by the end of the week and I've got
work to do. I also need to read the manual of his new car in case
something goes wrong with the stupid thing. It's one of those new models
that fetches your slippers and drives itself while reading the paper out
loud - all new fancy gadgets. The thought makes me grin and wonder when I
turned into my dad. 

 Mandy Croft stops me in the street to ask me to check over their
generator tomorrow morning and I pause long enough to get the latest
gossip, including news of her pregnancy. I congratulate her and promise to
come and check the generator first thing before heading on along the road.
A few other people stop me and it gets me to thinking about Chicago and
how different things are on the streets there. 

 I get to Buckers and swallow a groan at the catalogue he's waving at me. 


 Dinner at Sasha's is kinda interesting. Steve is welcomed like the second
son, and sat in his usual place while I do the honours with the formal
introductions. Then Sasha is on me, hugging hard enough to count my ribs
by touch - which is probably what she's doing - and then ordering me out
to the kitchen to help set the table while the two Mounties sit with her
husband and discuss the woodcarving he's in the middle of. He's teaching
me to do that and it's kinda cool - soothing in a way. Most my sculptures
look like nothing on earth and end up in the fire, but I'm slowly getting
better. I ordered a set of proper knives in a catalogue and that helped. 

 Sasha is still on her `feed Ray until he bursts' campaign and Frase gets
a grin on his face that he hides when he sees me looking. He sits bolt
upright when Sasha fixes him with the `mommy glare' and starts grilling
him about my eating habits away from her eagle eye. I almost feel sorry
for the guy until I realise he's nodding enthusiastically and swapping
fattening recipes. He'll soon cool it when he realises that it's him
she'll yell at if I don't weigh in heavier at my next visit. 

 Steve is relieved to be out of the crossfire until Sasha starts in on his
suggested diet and can Frase possibly supervise that as well. Both men are
thankful that Frase can't and Steve gets upped to three times a week
visits. Mr Rose and I just share a wink and eat quietly, knowing better
than to get involved. Neither one of us wants to sleep on the couch
tonight. 

 "So, did you get your doctor's appointment?" Sasha fires at me over her
heavenly pie and I nod, then chew hard and swallow quickly so I can answer
her more politely. 

 "There was a cancellation for next week - I'll be able it fit in then.
I'll be gone about a week for measurements and trials and I thought I'd
spend the time with Mom and Dad," I smile at her. 

 "A week?" Frase blurts in dismay and Sasha nods firmly. 

 "Quite right, Sergeant," she agrees, "He's still not completely recovered
and it's a long time to be away from home. Not to mention the journey, I
swear Peter Leavenworth is letting that plane rust out from underneath
him." 

 That's not what Frase was worried about, though now he is - assessing me
anxiously across the table. I try to look like I've regained all the
weight I lost and my skin is the colour it used to be, but he's not
fooled. Truth is some days I'm just so wiped out from the work that I fall
asleep on the couch until the nightmare wakes me. Last night was the first
time I really went back to sleep again and I know for a fact it was Frase
and Dief that made the difference. 

 "Perhaps I could authorise Constable Stevens some leave time and he could
accompany you," he says and I bristle straight away. I'm damaged, not
fucking useless. Steve catches my eye and shakes his head solemnly,
warning me not to explode in front of my Canadian mother who would
probably wash my mouth out with soap. Fraser has vetoed his own idea
almost in the next breath and I'm starting to think he'll be back in his
old room tonight if he doesn't calm the fuck down. 

 "I'll go with him," Sasha decides and Mr Rose raises an eyebrow at her,
"I've been curious about Chicago ever since I met you honey and you can
show me around. I'd like to meet your mother, too. Just reassure her that
we're taking care of you while you're recovering." 

 Mr Rose offers me a commiserating look that his wife misses. The relief
on Fraser's face is too genuine for me to be mad; though I promise myself
we're going to discuss this tonight. I don't want to be fighting to stand
on my own. I saw the way he wanted to turn around when I stumbled last
night and that is the way I want it to be between us. I want him to trust
me to take care of myself - damage and all. 

 "Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray..." Ben's voice calls me back from my own private
musings and I blink before apologising. Sasha hates it when I drift off
like that, though it's a habit I've had for a very long time. 

 "Sorry, what did you say?" 

 "I said: have you called your parents yet?" Sasha reminds me and doctors
a cup of coffee with chocolate before handing it over. Steve gets real hot
chocolate and so does Frase - served in thick porcelain beakers like you`d
give to a kid. The oversized mugs are blue - just the right colour for
cocoa mugs. 

 "Mom wasn't in so I left a message with the machine. I managed to get
hold of Ma Vecchio and she'll check that Mom's checked her messages. I'll
call again tomorrow and let them know you're coming - that way we can
organise a bed for you," I sip the coffee and smile in thanks. 

 "Oh no, honey, I'll stay at a hotel," Sasha waves a hand and I bristle
straight away. No mother of mine is staying in a hotel in a strange city
when there is family that can put her up! From the look on her face I said
that out loud and bury my red face in my mug. Mr Rose chuckles and gets
up, collecting plates and heading for the kitchen. Sasha's smile is
glowing and Frase pats my shoulder on the way past with his own load of
plates. I can't find it in myself to be ashamed for too long and offer her
a smile and a hand squeeze.  

 When we get back to the cabin, Frase goes straight to the fire, stirring
it up and then standing with his back to it. He's rubbing his eyebrow with
his thumb, and he's obviously freaking over something. I'm about to ask
what's up when he makes a little frustrated noise. 

 "Ray...I want to apologise...I know you don't need a chaperone...it's
just that I started thinking about how dangerous Chicago can be and you'd
be there without me...you didn't call when you were hurt..." 

 The last part is said in a whisper and I realise he's afraid that I won't
tell him if I get hurt again. His attitude at dinner is explained in a
second and I go put my arms around him. He stands stiffly, not hugging me
back, but I've had him once and can't survive alone any more. I'll do
whatever it takes to keep him now. 

 "I promise you that I'll call," I tell him, "I'll never not call again." 

 Ok, so it's not that eloquent, but I'm misting up here and I want him to
hear the truth. He looks me in the eye real close and then nods. His arms
come up to pull me close and we stand like that for a moment. I hide my
face in his neck and take a deep breath of Ben smell. 

 "I'm sorry I hurt you," I whisper, "I just couldn't bear to be seen by
anyone. Not until I was walking again. Not until I knew I wouldn`t be a
burden on them." 

 "You're not," he whispers back, "You'll never be a burden to me." 

 I just hang on tighter for a moment and then take a deep breath. He knows
what I'm like now, in bed and out of it. I've gotta be fair about this. 

 "I know I'm no prize...you'd probably be better off sleeping in your own
bed so I don't wake you up every time...I wouldn't mind...you need your
sleep..." 

 "I wouldn't sleep at all," Frase says sternly and shakes me a little,
"Stop it. Stop trying to make me treat you like you're damaged. You're
not." 

 I snort at that, but a great weight lifts off my heart and I stop as
ordered. Dief patters over and sits next to us, eyeing us expectantly. I
turn my head enough to look back at him. 

 "What?" I ask and he thumps his tail on the floor, "Ben, your wolf's a
pervert. I think he wants to watch us make out." 

 "He's not my wolf," Frase tells me straightaway, "I have nothing to do
with him. If you hadn't jumped me at breakfast he wouldn't have got an
eyeful and developed this habit." 

 "You weren't objecting at the time, and if I remember you jumped first,"
I tell him indignantly. A sappy smile takes over Frase's face and he
caresses my face gently. 

 "Understood," is all he says and I kiss him. He kisses me back and we
cuddle in close again. I'm getting tired though, and shift against him,
balancing my weight on one leg. He manages not to hustle us to the nearest
seat, choosing to take more of my weight on him and nuzzling my ear. He
brings a bit of tongue action into it, doing something swirly that has me
totally dizzy and more than a little unbalanced. 

 "Ben love," my voice is hoarse and totally out of my control, "Bed, now.
Need you. Love you." 

 He takes his tongue out of my ear and kisses my nose instead. 

 "I'll walk Dief," he says, "I'll only be a few minutes." 

 He lets go and moves for the door, telling Dief that this is his only
chance for the night and to just hurry up and come along. I head for the
bedroom and strip off, hanging my clothes over the back of a chair that I
keep there for that reason and start to change into sweats. After a moment
the reason Ben really left hits me and I sit on the bed, hard. 

 He left so I could change, and get into bed without me seeing him. I'm
still sitting there, thinking about that when he walks in himself. He
hesitates when he realises that I'm sitting on the bed in my boxers,
staring at my sweats, prosthesis still on. I think he's not sure if I
meant for him to see me like this or not, but after a moment he decides to
stay. 

 "Ray?" he voice is gentle and I look up. There is only concern in his
eyes and a little fear. I try to think of a way to explain what I'm
thinking. 

 "You can't make love fully dressed," I tell him and he misunderstands me,
stripping down unselfconsciously. I smile at him and toss the sweats to
one side. I can do this - it's not hard. He already knows I'm damaged,
what can it hurt to see me as I am now? I loosen the bent coat hanger and
slip it off, sliding it under the bed out of the way. I check that the
crutches are in the right spot - I'm paranoid about not being mobile, I
know it - and stand next to the bed to slip off my boxers as well. 

 My cock is totally limp and shrivelled as I cringe from my own nakedness.
There are a few long scars on my body and of course the stump itself. Ben
stands on the other side of the bed naked as well. I focus on his body
instead, smiling at him and trying to act like this is no big deal. After
the hospital he is the first person to see me naked. 

 He pulls back the blankets and gets into bed, sliding onto one side and
holding them up for me in invitation. My resolve breaks and I slide in,
pulling them up to cover me and closing my eyes in shame. His arms come
around me and he rolls, pulling on me until I'm lying on top of him, skin
to skin. 

 "I love you," his voice is solemn and quiet. I can feel all of me
pressing into all of him, even the end of my leg and he's relaxed. His
hands stroke my arms and back while I brace myself above him and look down
at his face. It's calm and happy. We're good here - he's not gonna freak
out on me. 

 "I love you," I reply, "So much Ben love." 

 He smiles and leans up for a kiss. This is good, I like his mouth and
tongue and kiss him back, following his mouth a he puts his head down
again. We kiss for a while; sharing breath while the bed warms up from our
heat. Then his hands start getting adventurous and wander all over the
place, touching and stroking and rubbing things. I get hard against him
and he seems to like that, pressing up into my weight and rubbing himself
on me. I send my own hands exploring and find out that he loves have his
nipples played with. I feel his cock poking into me and start rubbing
back. 

 We're puffing and panting and making stupid noises now. He splits his
legs so I'm between them and I shift to line my cock up with his. We both
groan at that and get a lot more excited. I try rubbing against him and he
shoves his hips up demandingly. I can feel our cocks getting slick with
pre come and sweat, which makes the rub more of a glide and I have to kiss
him, hard. He kisses back just as hard and I wriggle a little on him,
managing to get my legs braced so I can move a bit better. We're both
thrusting into each other now and he's got both hands on my ass, playing
with it and squeezing while I tease his nipples and kiss him. 

 "Ben love," I groan and speed up as the need in me builds. He takes a
hand away from my ass to grip both our cocks together, grinding and
squeezing them as we move. We both moan and start moving faster, the
stupid noises getting louder and more urgent. I feel myself start to come
and scream his name, driving into his body and hand hard, shuddering and
shooting all over him. He goes still and stiff, then shudders hard and
comes too, moaning my name softly. 

 We collapse onto the mattress and I move reluctantly to get off him. His
arms and legs whip up and grab me, holding me in place with a growl. 

 "Ok," I gasp and settle onto his body, snuggling in and gloating in that
way all men have. He's gloating too, with a huge sappy smile plastered all
over his face. We kiss for a few minutes and then he sighs. 

 "I'll get a cloth," he pats my ass, and I slide off so he can get up. The
blankets are tangled at the bottom of the bed and I leave them there, not
wanting to mess them up. Ben comes back with a warm cloth and cleans
himself in front of me, handling his limp cock suggestively before leaning
over to clean mine. 

 "Tease," I growl and he smiles as I lie there passively while he handles
my body. He kisses me slowly before going to put the cloth away and then
climbing back into bed. I sit up to untangle the blankets and he puts out
a hand. His face is uncertain, like he's worried about what he's about to
say. 

 "Can I look?" he asks and I suck in a startled breath. I guess he was too
busy before to pay attention to what I looked like. I nod in a jerky
motion and lie back for him. He sits up and looks at the scars on my body,
his eyes sad and troubled. When he sees me watching him he smiles and
leans over to kiss them lightly, following them down my body and back up
again. He shifts further down the bed and I tense as he looks at the
stump, lying stiffly in an effort not to hide from him. He has a right to
see this - after all we kinda own each other now. That doesn't make it any
easier and when he leans forward my control breaks. 

 "Don't," my voice is all scared and soft and I hate myself for it. Frase
just sits back up and pulls the blankets over both of us before pulling me
into his side and wrapping his arms and legs around me. 

 "Sorry," he whispers sadly and I shake my head, moving to look him in the
eye. 

 "We're good," I tell him and give him a kiss, "I'm just not ready for you
to do that." 

 "Understood," he tells me and we settle down for some sleep.  

 At some point Dief must have come in, because it's him who stops me from
falling out of bed screaming, and it's him who wipes the tears away - by
licking them, yuk. I hide in his fur while he pins me down on the bed, and
get it back together, calming down when I feel Frase's hand on mine in the
fur and his warmth along my side. 

 "Shit," I say finally, "Sorry. Did I hurt you Ben love?" 

 "No," he kisses my ear and waits for me to pull my face outta Dief's
neck, "Are you all right?" 

 "Yeah, I'm good," I sigh and it's true. The shaking is almost gone and I
can breathe - well almost normally `cos Dief is no lightweight, "What a
freak." 

 I sound disgusted with myself because I am - I hate being a head case and
all weepy over a stupid dream. 

 "Stop that. You are not a head case," Frase musta been reading my mind,
because he startles me and I jump. Dief adds his opinion with a growl and
a chin to temple lick that has me squirming. Frase laughs at me and Dief
looks smug as I push him off and get up, using the crutches and not even
realising I'm naked until I get into the bathroom. I have to sit down in
shock - Frase just got an eyeful of my damage and me and I didn't even
care at the time. 

 It takes me a while to get it back together and Frase is not in the room
when I come back. I wonder if he knows what I felt and get back into the
bed, stowing the crutches and settling. He comes in with Dief and two
steaming mugs of hot chocolate, complete with little marshmallows. I sit
up against the headboard and take the mugs, waiting until he's settled and
Dief is curled up on my foot to pass the mug over. He's still naked and
the sight of him strolling around in the altogether is comforting. 

 We drink it in silence and he takes the cups out to the kitchen to rinse
them off before climbing back in with me and pulling me close. I snuggle
in happily, and he starts petting me again like he did last night. The hot
drink and his touch are sending me back to la la land and I manage to kiss
him before crashing again. 

 We wake together in the morning and I kiss my man hello. He kisses me
back and we get interactive with each other, squirming and wriggling and
moaning until Dief gets up in disgust and stalks out. At that point we're
too far gone to care and by the time we notice he's gone we're also
heading back to sleep. A brief nap recharges me and I get up first, using
the crutches deliberately, deciding that if Frase can stand to see it then
I can stand to show it. He's gone when I get out of the bathroom and I
dress quickly before gimping in to take over breakfast while he goes and
gets cleaned up and dressed. 

 We do the goofy grin thing over breakfast, and Frase has to rush out
again because of our morning hello. I figure we should start waking up
earlier and reset my alarm. I tidy the place up and head out to Bucker's
to finish his library. I've got the walls and floor and ceiling and roof
in, now I've got to build and install the bookshelves. He's got some
really nice wood for me to use and at least I'll be inside today. 

 I'm halfway there - my leg is starting to drag a little in the snow -
when Dief comes haring up the road, barking wildly. I freeze, and my heart
actually stops beating for a moment. 

 "Dief, where's Frase?" I gasp as he cavorts around me happily. From the
way he's behaving I know there's no trouble, but why isn't he on duty?
Dief seems perfectly happy to continue to Bucker's cabin and I speed up as
much as I can, falling a coupla times as I lumber through the snow,
cursing my leg and the fact that neither one of us carries cell phones. 

 "Bucker - I need the phone!" I yell as I go up the steps and he meets me
in the kitchen. He's frowning at Dief, who is frowning back, clearly
offended by the American dcor. 

 "Stony Creek RCMP, Sergeant Fraser speaking," he sounds calm and
professional and I gulp in relief. 

 "It's me - what's with Dief? He turned up halfway to Buckers and I
thought you'd been shot or something," the words tumble out of me and my
voice is shaking in fear. Bucker grabs me and stuffs me into a kitchen
chair, turning to holler for his wife and holding me in place as I listen
to Frase's voice squawk from the phone that's somehow landed on the floor.


 I can't breathe and I can't move - I can't even answer them when they try
and talk to me. All I can do is cling to the sound of the squawking from
the phone as Dief snaps to get Bucker away and then gets up and balances
heavily on my lap. I slide my face into his fur and suddenly I'm breathing
again, gasping for air and coughing in reaction. I'm shivering `cos I'm
somehow wet through and I don't remember much of anything until I get a
huge surge of Ben smell and he's got his arms around me safely. 

 Funny enough, the phone is still squawking until Bucker picks it up and
tells Steve he'll call back. The three of us rock, me in the chair with
Dief in my lap and Frase kneeling beside me. Finally I can lift my face
out of the fur and apologise to Bucker. 

 "I'm taking him back to the cabin. Please inform Constable Stevens that I
won't be in today," Frase says when I'm done and Bucker nods. 

 "I'll see you tomorrow, Ray," he tells me, like it's the end of the day
and I'm on the way home after getting his library nearly finished, instead
of freaking out in his kitchen like the damaged lump that I am. I nod and
Dief slides to the floor. Frase gets me up - I'm too wobbly to do it
myself - and we walk out with his arms around me. Normally I'd be
protesting, and he can tell, `cos he mutters `for me' in my ear. I figure
if my leaning on him makes him feel better I can handle that and lean
hard, clutching his arms tightly. 

 Halfway home I make him stop so I can puke, and then I kinda zone out on
him, `cos I don't remember going inside or stripping down and getting into
the bath with him. I haven't used the bath since I got here - too hard to
get out of by myself, and the shower is quicker - but he gets the water
almost broiling and slides us both in, sitting behind me and wrapping his
arms and legs around me. 

 "Can you tell me what happened?" his voice is quiet and still, and kind
of slides into the silence without disturbing it. I nod and sigh, leaning
my head back so it's resting on his shoulder and I can see his face. 

 "My back up never came. I still don't know why. If it had...maybe..." I
swallow and close my eyes when he stiffens up behind me in a bad way. I
have to get this out so he understands, and if he speaks I'll never be
able to finish it. He must know that `cos he doesn't say a word. 

 "When Dief turned up all I could think was...where was your back up? Next
thing I know I'm tearing through the woods and falling into slushy snow
like an idiot. When I heard your voice..." I shiver and he leans down to
kiss me on the temple, his arms and legs tightening for a moment. 

 "I had a few panic attacks in the hospital after I woke up - mainly that
I was trapped and couldn't move `cos they had all these machines and stuff
on me. Suzy said it was normal and it would wear off, like the nightmares.
I haven't had one since I moved up here." 

 "Was Suzy your psychiatrist?" his voice does that blend with the silence
thing and I smile at him, thinking about how much I love him and how lucky
I was to get Suzy as my technician. 

 "Nope," I stroke the arms holding on to me and wonder how he knows
exactly what I need, "She's my tech. She built my leg and taught me how to
use it and all. She lost her left one in the same place when she was
eighteen. I could tell her anything, and she got in my face when I was
being a jerk. I did that a lot." 

 "Understood," there's another kiss on my temple and we sit quietly in the
water together.  

 Dief comes to me after supper that night. Frase took him outside for a
quick walk and I'm in bed, reading and trying not to worry that the damn
wolf will leave him alone again. I never realised how much I was depending
on Dief until he let me down like that. He drops a rabbit next to the bed
and whines. 

 "I know ya are," I tell him, trying hard not to worry about getting blood
off the floor, "It's just that I need to know you've got his back now that
I can't, Dief. I need you to stay with him unless we arrange otherwise.
I'd love to spend the day with you, but I worry, ya know?" 

 He leans in for a petting, and I rub his ears lightly until Frase comes
in. 

 "Dief caught a rabbit," I tell him and he exclaims in surprise, going
around the bed to pick it up off the floor. He starts telling Dief off,
though the animal's neck was broken, not torn out. I couldn't have handled
the blood right now. 

 "I'd better hang this. We can dress it tomorrow," Frase leans over and
kisses me, "Come and wash your mouth out Diefenbaker - you're not kissing
Ray after putting this in your mouth." 

 Diefenbaker pulls away from me and heads on out at Frase's heels. I
snuggle down in bed and listen to the two of them moving around out there.
It's such a sharp contrast from the silence of before that I have to catch
my breath and focus hard on my book. They finish their puttering and Dief
comes in to snuggle with me on the bed while Frase banks the fire and
turns out the lights. 

 He pauses in the doorway to look at us, cuddled in the pool of light from
the bedside lamp. I see a flash of white and realise he's smiling. I'm on
my side facing the bathroom and Dief is curled up along my stomach. 

 "I'm sure that wolf packs don't sleep like this," he tells Dief, who
pretends not to hear him. Over the years I've noticed that Dief can hear
just fine when he needs to - like when someone's talking about going out
for donuts. Frase just sighs and slides in behind me, leaning over to turn
off the light and then settling down to spoon with me. He tangles his
fingers with mine where they're tangled in fur and I sigh happily before
closing my eyes. 

 "Sweet dreams, Ray," is the last thing I hear. I wish Ben love, I think
but don't say it. If the panic attacks aren't as dead as I thought then
the nightmares are here for the long haul. 

 Sure enough, Ben saves me from falling off the bed and Dief lets me hide
in his fur as I shiver and shake through another aftermath, gasping for
air and bawling my stupid eyes out. We do the
bathroom-hot-chocolate-snuggle thing again and I sleep like a baby for the
rest of the night, snuggled on Ben's chest like a baby with its Mama. 

 I manage to get half the library done before heading back to town to meet
Frase and Steve at Sasha's. She's been in contact with Frase apparently,
`cos she gives me one of those looks and piles my plate high with lasagne.


 "Hey!" I exclaim when I bight into it, "Just like Ma Vecchio's." 

 "I got the recipe from her over the phone the other day, as well as the
biscuits," Sasha tells me, "I'll be staying with her when we go to
Chicago, provided you look at the boiler, which is making a swashing noise
again." 

 "Frannie's been fiddling with it," I growl, "She always forgets to reset
the temperature controls." 

 "Indeed," Frase smiles, no doubt remembering some of our louder arguments
in the basement while Ma Vecchio plied him with tea and baking. Sasha
smiles too as he tells about the Vecchio family and the way they just
adopted him almost straight away. I add a few stories - mainly about the
kids in the household and Mr Rose chimes in with stories about their own
kids - all grown and moved away to the city and bright lights. Steve adds
his exploits with his twin brother and has us howling with laughter by
desert, which is Mom's very own sweet potato pie. I get thirds of that and
a whole one to take home. 

 Frase and Sasha volunteer to wash up and I take out my new carving knives
to continue on with my carving of Dief. Steve and Mr Rose start talking
about curling - of all things - and leave me to it. Something is going
right for me tonight because not only do I get it finished, it actually
looks like what I started out to make. He's in the traces, caught running
forever with that flick of the paws I came to know so well. When Dief runs
like this the sled is perfectly balanced, on a good surface and the dogs
are eager. He ran like this for Ben, and once or twice for me. The post's
team leader will run like this for me, all eager and balanced. I smile at
the sculpture, rub some oil in and put it to one side to start on the next
- a sculpture of Ben on guard duty. I've got just the right piece of wood
for that and can see it clearly in my minds eye. 

 "Oh Ray," Ben's voice is soft as he picks up my sculpture of Dief. We
left him in the post tonight as Sasha doesn't let wolves in the house and
he sulks if he has to sit on the back step. At least in the post he'll be
warm and fairly comfortable. 

 "Worked out ok, huh?" I grin up at him before concentrating on my new
piece. This one is flowing real smooth, and Mr Rose comes over to look at
Dief before settling nearby again to watch me work and talk to Ben and
Steve. Sasha comes in with slice, hot chocolate and coffee, the last of
which she sits by my chair and then goes to snuggle with Mr Rose, joining
in when she wants to. I let their voices flow past me like a river while
the knife moves exactly the way I want it to for once. His boots come out
neatly, then the strong legs and funny jodhpurs, followed by the serge and
Sam Browne. He's standing with his hands behind his back, and I curl his
hands a little, the way they used to after a long stretch at the duty. I
couldn't believe it when I first saw him doing this. I'd been warned about
it and decided not to tease him, just sat on the nearby bench and waited,
telling him about the latest on the case we were working. Later, he told
me that Vecchio used to get angry and yell when he didn't reply or blink
in response. 

 I make his face impassive - the carefully held expression that was more
like repose than a mask. The Stetson is last and I make sure to get it
just right - Ben is very particular about how his Stetson sits. I rub some
oil into that one as well and toss it over to Mr Rose before packing up
the knives. He catches it without breaking verbal stride in the current
debate about Canadian politics - I stay well out of that, even if I am
naturalised to the country thanks to Turnbull. 

 He finishes making his point and then looks at the statue in his hand.
Sasha notices he's not listening to her as she shoots him down and stops
mid word when she sees what he has in his hand. 

 "It's the Sergeant!" her exclamation has Ben leaning over to get a better
look and Steve crowds in too as I stand and stretch, moving away. 

 "It's incredible," Steve says quietly and I look back to see it standing
on the coffee table, "You've captured Sergeant Fraser perfectly." 

 My Ben doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to - it's all there in
his eyes.  

End Mechanic at Stony Creek by Shedoc: that_gal@btopenworld.com

Author and story notes above.