Family at Stony Creek      Family at Stony Creek

 by Shedoc

  

 

 Disclaimer: Still don't own them - but there are defintie places going in
the syndicate to buy 'em <EG> Written for love not money.

 Author's Notes: Thanks for all the feedback - sorry this took so long,
but you would not believe RL at the moment! Unbeta'd yet again.be nice!

 Story Notes: It might help to read Mechanic first - it's in the archive
somewhere! 
No real warnings to speak of, I did all the terrible things to Ray in the
first one.

 This story is a sequel to: Mechanic at Stony Creek 

 

 Chapter Five 

 I suspect that Sasha has had a full briefing from my lover - and possibly
Dief - as she doesn't seem too surprised when I jerk awake on the
commercial airliner that is taking us to Chicago. She pets my hand and
calls the steward for some coffee, which she laces with chocolate and
talks to me about the terrible in flight movie she just saw. I get it
together and manage to smile enough to reassure her that I'm ok. From the
looks I'm getting from across the isle I was a bit too loud for privacy
and I give them the old cop glare to send them on their way. 

 The airline seats are bad enough when you're fully mobile - for someone
like me they're torture. I'm all too glad to be outta there and gimp as
quickly as I can down the gangway and into the airport proper. My parents
are waiting at the arrivals gate and Mom sweeps me into this huge hug,
bawling her eyes out. I feel guilty that she was so worried about me and
don't fuss as she hugs and babbles. 

 "You look better," my Dad says as she finally lets go. I smile at him and
nod. 

 "Feel it too," I say, "There's some good people out there - it's helped."


 I stick out a hand for one of those manly handshakes he prefers and he
uses it to get me into a bear hug. He's shaking a little and I make a soft
noise of surprise. 

 "I'm sorry," I blurt, and his grip tightens before he lets go and smacks
me one upside the head. Not lightly either. I wince and rub the spot, but
grin at him anyway. 

 "Don't you dare apologise for doing what you needed to," he growls,
ignoring Mom's protests, "I take it this is our guest?" 

 "Yes sir," I nod, and he grins back, "This is Sasha Rose. She runs the
general store in Stony Creek and feeds me twice a week." 

 Dad bows over her hand and takes her bag while Mom just plain hugs Sasha
- still a little damp at the eyes. I follow Dad to the luggage claim and
grab what's ours when it goes past. The damaged leg is in it's own bag
with the collapsed crutches I still need to use at night and I sling that
over my shoulder with my duffle and beat Dad's grab for Sasha's bag. 

 "I got it," I tell him lightly, "After framing three new extensions this
month, these are nothing." 

 "I thought you were the mechanic out there," Dad protests and I grin at
him. 

 "Man can't live on machine alone," I joke, "Actually its good work -
stops me getting fat and lazy." 

 Both Mom and Sasha look pained at that. Yeah, so I'm underweight. I'm
heavier than I used to be, and it's mainly muscle. Ben's started weighing
me once a week and mapping out diets. It's no big deal to let him fuss and
I kinda like the attention. I've learnt that not all attention is bad in
the last week - in fact there are certain types of attention that parts of
me will be missing a lot this week. I haul my mind kicking and screaming
above my belt and follow Dad out to the car. 

 We go to the Vecchio's first, to drop Sasha off and let Ma have her crack
at me. She does the Italian thing with lots of noise and hand gestures and
I'm happy to see her too - though a little quieter about it. The boiler
makes it's noise about four minutes after I walk in the door and I go have
a look at it while she takes Sasha upstairs to the guest room and
bathroom. Mom goes with them and I worry what they're saying to each other
- please god I don't get sucked into some kind of shopping come
sightseeing trip. 

 Dad comes downstairs to find me elbow deep in the boiler with my head in
there as well. He passes tools when I ask and just generally watches me do
my thing. I'm not worried - some of my more suspicious clients in Stony
Creek used to do that as well. I can deal. I grin at him when the boiler
comes online with a quiet noise and put the tools away - washing in the
basement sink like always and he grins right on back. 

 "Damn, I guess you are a mechanic," he tells me and I cross my eyes at
him before waving him up the stairs ahead of me. I don't need him watching
me gimp my way up them. We stay to dinner at Ma Vecchio's with Frannie,
Angie, Tony and the kids as well. I sit next to Sasha and pass dishes like
always, slipping back into the `family groove' that Frase and I both
learned when these people adopted us. From Mom and Dad's reactions they've
learned this groove as well and I wink at Sasha as she gets into an
argument with Tony about the merits of hunting rifles - which Angie flatly
refuses to let him try. 

 We leave fairly early in the evening when Mom catches me yawning behind
my hand. Ma kisses me like I'm never coming back and then so does Angie
and Fran. Sasha gets one in as well and I blush, making everyone laugh at
me. 

 We're quiet in the car for the five-block ride to Mom and Dads. It's a
good quiet - fairly rare for my family to be able to just sit together and
be happy. I come back after putting my stuff in the spare room and sit
down on the couch opposite them both. 

 "Um," I need to say so much, but it's kinda hard to know where to start.
At the beginning I guess. I tell myself to just suck it up already and
smile at them once before sitting straight - like I used to when I was in
trouble. 

 "I'm sorry for cutting ya both off after the ... whole big mess. I wasn't
thinking right," I start with the easy stuff, "I know ya both wanted to
help, but I needed some time." 

 "It's ok, Stanley," Dad smiles a little stiffly, but it's better than a
frown and I'll take it, "We spoke to a support group and they said it
might take some time for you to adjust." 

 I hate the idea that they've been talking to strangers about me behind my
back, but shut up about it before I start an argument. 

 "And...I might make a bit of noise tonight. I don't sleep well. Just
leave me be. I'm good," I get the warning out in a rush, using the old
don't-fuck-with-me tone that always works. Mom nods, her eyes wide, and
Dad looks away, his lips now pressed in a thin line. I guess neither of
them wants it really rubbed in that their son is a head case and damaged
to boot. To change the subject I ask about Anthony and Marge and their
kids. I haven't stayed in touch with my brother at all - we never got
along and his wife hates me. Old Tony did what Dad wanted and chose a
white-collar career and got him a white-collar wife to match. The cop with
the experimental hair just didn't fit into the picture. Dad had only just
started talking to me a year or so before the...incident... and I tend to
keep my head down around him a bit. I guess after the grief I've seen
Frase suffer from his Dad I don't want to lose mine the same way. Although
by the end of this little visit I probably will have - I'm gonna tell them
both about Frase and me before I go. I'm not ashamed to be in love and I
want them to know how happy I am. I figure if they know my lover is with
me it will take some of the anxiety off for them. And if they want to
disown me again then they can. I've learnt how to survive. 

 Anthony and Marge get us through another half hour and the grandkids a
full hour after that. I'm interested enough to pay good attention, and Mom
hauls out the photo album, sitting next to me and pointing things out.
They spent last Christmas with Anthony seeing as how I'd dropped off the
face of the earth - in reality I'd spent Christmas day at the post, tuning
all the engines I could find and then taking the dogs for a good hard run.
The Christmas photos were pretty funny really, though I doubt my Mom
thought so - Marge was in a few, trying so hard to look dignified in a
silly cracker hat. There were a few of the grandparents and kids - all of
them very relaxed with goofy grins and a few rabbits ears behind heads -
as well as the more formal parents and kids. Every time Marge appeared
with her `trying to have fun' face I had to bite down on a smile. Dad
caught me at it and nodded once, his own grin carefully hidden. Looks like
I wasn't the only one who thought Marge was a bit stuck up. 

 Then Mom caught me not-yawning again and sent me packing off to bed. I
got ready like always, making sure that the crutches were where I could
get them easily and the good leg was under the bed where I could reach it.
I lay back and hugged the spare pillow to me, sliding cautiously into
sleep.	

 It didn't help. I woke up when I fell off the freaking bed and only
managed to keep my yell down by pure dumb luck. I missed the furry weight
that squeezed the breath out of me, and the strong hand that hauled me
back into the world. Only two weeks of this and I was accustomed to it -
couldn't do without it - wanted it so bad I had to tell myself to be a man
and quit with the crying. I hauled the crutches out and got up, moving as
quietly as I could to the bathroom. A nightlight lighted the landing and I
scowled at it on the way past. I hate being treated like a kid - even if I
am having nightmares that leave me a quivering heap on the floor. 

 Business done, I go back to bed and switch on the bedside lamp. There's
no way I'll get back to sleep tonight and I haul out the book I packed
just in case. I look up later when there's a tap at the door and Dad
sticks his head around it, looking disappointed that I'm awake. 

 "You all right son?" he asks in a soft voice and I nod, drawing my legs
up and waving him in. I gesture for him to sit on the bed and he perches
in that way he has. 

 "I didn't wake you did I?" I ask quietly, knowing that Mom is probably
still asleep. He shakes his head and spends a moment looking at me. Then
he slaps the mattress and gets up again. 

 "Come downstairs and I'll give you a game of chess," he steps back and I
put the book down obediently, grabbing the crutches and getting up. He
looks a little uncomfortable and I pause. I guess this is the first time
I've let him see me dependent on anything to move - and it's all down to
Frase that I can. The last time he came to the hospital and saw me in a
wheelchair I locked myself in a bathroom and wouldn't come out until he
left. 

 "Would you rather I put the leg on?" I ask him awkwardly, "It must be
weird having to look at me..." 

 "No! You are not weird," he snaps, "I just remembered the hospital..." 

 "Yeah, I was a real shit," I pull a face, "Sorry Dad. I wasn't coping. I
am now, though. I'm good, which is better than before. I figure I can get
back to being great again. I'm gonna try." 

 "You do that," his growl doesn't match his eyes, which are all shiny and
proud looking. I grin back hesitantly and sit on the edge of the bed.
Taking a deep breath I roll my sweats up, exposing myself to him and
putting the bent coat hanger on with shaky hands. I roll the leg of my
sweats down as quickly as I can and then take in a few deep breaths. His
hand ghosts onto my shoulder and he bugs out - heading down the stairs. I
feel like I've run a marathon, and I think I may have won it - or at least
come a close second. 

 There's coffee at the chessboard by the time I can get down there and a
bag of M&M's next to it. I doctor my cup while Dad makes the first move
and we settle in to playing. We're quiet for an hour or so, and then the
neighbours get up, idling their car in the drive for a while before
leaving. 

 "Your Mom will be up soon," Dad says when the car noises are gone, "They
always wake her up with their damn car, and she usually wakes me. I
wouldn't have noticed you were up if I hadn't had to drain the lizard
myself." 

 "Does it bother you? I could go talk to them tonight about parking on the
street or something," I push my empty cup to one side and move my knight,
which he takes. I grin and move my bishop to checkmate him. 

 "I'm more bothered by this," he growls, scowling at the board and then
me, "Nah, you don't have to talk to them. It's cheaper than an alarm
clock." 

 "Ray?" Mom's voice comes down the stairs and I grin at Dad before getting
up and heading to the bottom of them. I want to be out of reach for a
moment here. 

 "Down here Mom," I call. I just know what she's gonna say next... 

 "What are you doing down there?" Score! She appears in her robe and
starts down the stairs. 

 "Beating Dad at chess," I tell her blandly and she laughs while Dad
yells. I grin and hug her good morning - one of those strong hugs that I
used to give her back in high school when I was growing. She squeaks like
she used to and I put her down. 

 "Breakfast," she swats my arm and Dad takes our coffee cups out to the
kitchen while I go to help Mom. 

 I'm meeting Suzy today and Mom tells me that she and Sasha and Ma Vecchio
are going sightseeing and shopping. I breathe a sigh of relief that I
don't have to go, and tell them that I might drop in on the 2-7 after my
appointment so I can say hello to Welsh and Dewey. Dad offers to chauffer
me around and Mom tells him that he's driving the women folk. I avoid his
eye and he grumbles under his breath for a while. 

 They drop me at the hospital where Suzy works and I gimp on in to the
right area, checking in with the receptionist and sitting down in one of
the chairs that line the lobby area. 

 "Ray!" Suzy calls before I zone out in boredom, and I grin at her. She
hasn't changed - she's still all energy and grace, moving quick and
confident with only the slightest limp to marr her walk. I feel heavy and
slow beside her, and she frowns at me as I gimp along into her office. 

 "What the hell happened?" she's on the little stool and raising the table
on its pneumatic legs in seconds, rolling up my trousers to look at the
bent coat hanger and the suction cup. 

 "Walked into an animal trap," I shrug, trying not to remember who might
have done it instead of me, "Jarred it a little I guess." 

 She's got the fake off and is poking around down there while I stare out
the window, trying not to notice her hands touching me so intimately. It
always took me a little while to relax when she was working on my stump or
fake leg and she ignores me like she always used to. It's comforting to
know that the person working on you has dealt with the same injury
themselves and won't embarrass you with pity - is in fact more likely to
stick the new leg where the sun don't shine if you whine about stuff. 

 "More than a little," she says after a moment, "I've got swelling and
chafing down here, and a fair amount of bruising. I'm putting you on
crutches for a while - you need to give it a chance to rest." 

 "Aww Suze, can't I use the spare?" I protest, "I'll ice it or something
at night. I hate hopping." 

 "No, you can't use the spare," she tells me severely, "Where are your
crutches?" 

 "Back at home with the folks," I sigh, "Let me use the spare to get home,
then." 

 "Like hell," she fixes me with that look that meant I was being a stupid
whiney loser and needed to suck it up, "I know you. You'll conveniently
forget our discussion as soon as you get out the door. I'll lend you some
from here for while you're in Chicago. Show me the one that got caught in
that trap." 

 I open the bag and pass it over, shivering at the bent and scratched
surface that was all I had for a leg now. She does too when she sees the
damage and gets up to hug me - pulling her professional face back on after
a moment. That's comforting too. 

 We do the whole measure and prod thing and then she pins my jeans up so I
won't trip. The elbow crutches are brought in and she adjusts them in
seconds, handing them over and smiling at me. 

 "It's only until I get the new one made and retool the spare. I think
it's a little unbalanced and I want to check it over. I'll rush it for
you, ok? You'll be mobile again by Friday, promise," her eyes hold mine
and I nod. I hate being gimpy - being crippled like this is worse. She
knows that, but her eyes remind me that she's living with the same thing
and is still man enough to handle it. We hug and I head for the taxi rank.
 

 After a bit of thought I go to the 2-7 anyway. They all know what
happened and they can either deal with it or not. I'm not gonna hide -
Frase would be disappointed in me if I did, though he'd never say
anything. A few heads turn downstairs as I hop on in and I ignore it
unless they say hello to me. 

 Welsh is standing in his office door when I get to the entrance of the
bullpen and he grins when he sees me. Dewey comes on over and does the
macho hello thing, while not looking any lower than my shoulders. I figure
he needs to do what he does to cope and don't get upset. We head over to
Welsh, who knows better than to come to me like I can't make it or
something and we go into his office. 

 "So, how's life as a snow man?" Welsh grins at me and I grin right back. 

 "Fine," I tell him, "I've got enough work to pay the bills and keep me
busy. Frase got himself promoted and transferred to the Creek when we lost
Sarge, so I've got someone to watch my back if I need it." 

 "Good," Welsh nods, "Constable Turnbull did tell us that Fraser had moved
to the post at Stony Creek. How did the position become available?" 

 So I tell them all about the pipe line crew and Mary Sue, the shootout
and the aftermath. We drink coffee while he tells me about what's happened
at the 2-7 lately and any cop buddies I might have had. I talk and nod and
meanwhile remind myself not to come out at the station - these guys might
be cool about me loving Frase, but I don't want to find out if they're
not. 

 After a while I have to head out to Ma Vecchio's - who has apparently
offered to host dinner for the week we're here. Dad's asleep in an
armchair in the front room and my three mothers are in the kitchen,
cooking and gossiping and apparently trading `Ray' stories. 

 "Ray! What happened?" Mom is on me in a flash, and I ward her off
carefully. I don't need coddling, and my balance can be damn shaky on
these things. 

 "Suzy says I need to give it a rest for a week, and took my...gear away.
It's no biggie, Mom. What's for dinner, Ma?" 

 Ma Vecchio hits me with the Italian version of the mommy glare, but tells
me, and even lets me taste test the sauce. Sasha pulls out a chair with a
pointed look and I roll my eyes before sitting down. I listen to them
talking with half an ear, while I let my mind drift. I taught myself to do
this back when I was quartered with Sasha and Mr Rose. It's as good as
sleeping, but without the nightmares, though Sasha hates it when I drift
off. 

 I come back when someone puts a cup of coffee in front of me and three
hands appear with chocolate to doctor it. That makes me laugh and they
grin sheepishly at each other. 

 "So, what's on the agenda for tomorrow?" I ask and Sasha tells me they're
going shopping and so am I. 

 "You can carry the bags," she tells me and Ma Vecchio bristles for a
moment before Mom gives her the significant look. If I ever want coddling,
Ma Vecchio is the one to go to - she's such a generous soul that she wants
to care for everyone. At the same time she knows when she's being conned
and will kick your butt as often as not. 

 "What sort of shopping?" I groan, "I'm too weak to carry heavy weights,
got a note from my doctor." 

 Sasha snorts and plunges right back into the Ray tales - this time about
how I lifted the sled out of a snow bank with her in it. It sounds pretty
daring, but wasn't half as exciting as she tells - I sneezed and ran us
into the damn thing in the first place. 

 "It wasn't Chicago's fault," I tell her firmly, "I sneezed and threw us
way off balance." 

 "Chicago?" Mom asks with a frown and I grin. 

 "He's the lead dog on my team. He's pretty smart - almost as smart as
Dief. He's the colour of dirty snow - and in fact that's what his name
meant, but I couldn't pronounce it. What I could say sounded like Chicago,
so that's what he's called now. " 

 Sasha rolls her eyes - she just doesn't like Dief that much and we've
agreed to disagree on that. Ma Vecchio beams - she loves Dief as well as
his owner and we're heading for shaky ground so I ask Ma if I can call
home for a moment, promising to pay for the call. She gets a thoughtful
look on her face and nods. It's not until the phone is actually ringing
that I realise I called Stony Creek home instead of here. Then my call is
answered. 

 "Stony Creek RCMP..." 

 "It's me Ben," I interrupt, to save him from the mouthful, and he stops
straight away. 

 "Ray!" his voice is warm and happy, instead of polite and efficient and I
grin stupidly, "Where are you calling from?" 

 "Ma Vecchio's - do you remember the number?" I ask and he tells me he
does before hanging up and I drop the phone back into place, shifting so I
can lean on the table it rests on. I get it on the first ring and tuck it
into my neck, as if it's his face resting there instead. My stupid body is
missing him so much that it's the best I can do. 

 "Are you hurt?" Ben's panicked voice sounds in my ear and for a moment I
can't think. I didn't want this - I knew that coming back without him had
him worried, and I'd promised to call, so of course he'd...I pull it
together to answer the frantic silence on the other end of the line. 

 "No," I blurt, "I'm fine. It's not that sort of call, it's ok." 

 He takes a shaky breath and I drop my voice to a low tone. I've already
figured out the effect of this on his body and I know it works over the
phone when I hear his chair creak because he's leaned back in it. 

 "Take it easy, Ben. I'm good here. I went to see Suzy today and she's
making me a new leg and rebalancing the spare. I'll be on my way home by
the end of the week." 

 "If she's got your spare..." Ben trails off and then sighs, "You did hurt
yourself, I knew it." 

 "Some bruising only - and the spare isn't balanced properly. We musta
made a mistake in the measurements. The first coupla years have teething
difficulties, `cos I've got to adjust. I promise you I'm ok. Do ya wanna
talk to Mom or Sasha?" 

 "No, I believe you," Ben's voice is calm now, and accepting. I sigh in
relief and we change the subject. He tells me that Mary Sue is working in
the post as a civilian assistant at Steve's suggestion and that her first
day was very trying. Apparently Dief scared her by jumping up when she
came in to check her out. Frase tells me that Dief is being very vigilant
about who my Mountie comes in contact with and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I'm more than a little nervous about him while I'm away, though I know
full well that I couldn't back him up if I was there, being a civilian and
damaged and all. 

 I tell him about Sasha and the marathon-shopping trip the mothers have
decided to drag me on, and about the 2-7. I'm going to the consulate
tomorrow to see Turnbull and promise to pass on Frase's regards to his old
colleague. The Ice Queen is still there as well and I promise not to say
anything rude to her. 

 After a few more minutes I whisper that I love him and we hang up. It's a
wrench to let go of his voice like that and I take a few deep breaths,
telling myself not to be so damn needy. When I've got it under control I
go check on Dad.  

 Chapter Six 

 Rather than run the risk of waking Dad or Mom again with the aftermath of
that night's nightmare, I get dressed and go down to the garage. I'm
pretty sure Dad has a couple of knives out there among his carpentry tools
and I spend a while putting a decent edge on them before fishing out some
scraps of wood and going back into the kitchen. I spread one of Dads old
newspapers on the table to catch the shavings and pick up one of the lumps
I brought in with me. Its colour reminds me of Chicago, so I start with
his head. 

 By the time Mom and Dad come down I've carved the whole team, running in
the traces, and I'm finishing the sled. I didn't see anything to finish
them with in the garage, and make a note to get something from a hobby
store during today's shopping spree. 

 I hate going out in public without the coat hanger, but the end of my leg
does feel better when I press my hands to it, and the bruising is going
away. It took me a year to get used to checking and touching it - I was in
Canada by then and too scared of frostbite to skimp the checking. I didn't
need to lose anything else. I hate being stared at, though one of my
`mothers' is usually there to step between me and the starer - unless
they're all in the changing rooms or something. 

 Mom and Dad come over to the table and pick up the dogs, exclaiming in
low voices and asking me their names. I tell them about the team and the
quirks of each dog as I finish the figure at the back of the sled. It's me
in my mukluks and parka, grinning like a maniac like I was the day I
figured I could still do this. Dad touches the sled with careful fingers
and then collects all the pieces up, walking out of the kitchen while I
clear up my mess and wipe the table down. 

 When I go past the front room, Dad is arranging the dogs and sled
carefully on the bookshelf next to the television. He's moved Anthony and
Marge's wedding photo to do it and I bite down on a grin. 

 The phone rings while I'm upstairs and I listen to hear if it's Frase
calling for me. It's not - Mom or Dad would have yelled up the stairs and
I finish my shower, getting dressed again and hopping slowly down the
stairs to join them for breakfast. I found a pot of gel in the bathroom
and did my hair the old way, slipping into a loud shirt for the hell of it
and grinning at the result. 

 "Who was on the phone?" I ask Mom as she hands my coffee to Dad. He drops
in the regulation chocolate with a glare that says he's doing it under
protest, and stirs for me while Mom answers. 

 "Your brother and his family have come down for a surprise visit," she
smiles fondly, "They spent last night in a hotel and will get here this
afternoon." 

 "I'll go stay at the Vecchio's then," I tell her and she frowns, "They'll
want the room, and Ma Vecchio won't mind if I crash on her couch or
something." 

 "The hell you will," Dad tells me, "They've come to see you and can stay
in a hotel or something. In fact I'd rather they did, Barbara - that way
Stanley will be able to rest when he needs it." 

 "Fine," Mom agrees, "The children are a little noisy sometimes." 

 "I can handle the noise," I protest, "The Vecchio's are plenty noisy!" 

 Mom smiles fondly and ruffles my hair. 

 "I know honey," she tells me, "But I don't want to miss any time with
you. I don't get to see you as often as I do Tony and the kids." 

 I calm down and nod, letting her and Dad plan a barbeque dinner, and
listen as she decides to invite the Vecchio's and Sasha over as well.
Before I know it, she's got the guys from the 2-7 over as well. 

 "How about Turnbull and the Ice Queen? I'm going to see them today," I
say a little sarcastically, and Mom ignores the tone to agree with the
suggestion. I guess the whole protest about the noise and me needing my
rest goes out the window, as the daily shopping expedition becomes a
supply run. Dad and I sidle out the door with a list, which he tells me
he'll get while I go to the Consulate and issue my invitations. 

 Frase's replacement is on guard duty and I hobble by with a polite good
morning to him. I could never ignore the guys when they were on duty,
though I made sure I didn't say anything that required a reply. Turnbull
jumps to his feet and rushes forward to pump my hand when he sees me. He's
loudly welcoming me and asking after my health and Frase and Dief and
Stony Creek when the Ice Queen comes storming out of her office to see
what's going on. 

 "Inspector," I nod to her astonished face, "You're looking well." 

 "Thank you Mr Kowalski," she stammers and manages not to insult me by
returning the compliment. I know what I look like. 

 "I came to say hello, while I was in town. My Mom and Dad are having an
informal gathering this evening and would be pleased if you'd both
attend," I roll out the formal language with style, making my voice as
much like Frase's as possible. Turnbull starts wringing my hand and
thanking me again and I get the nod of approval from the Ice Queen as
well. 

 Dad picks me up an hour later - thank god, `cos Turnbull's installed me
in the dining room and is peppering me with questions about the town and
the post and Frase and god knows what else. The back of the car is full,
and I resign myself to opening doors and not helping because a guy on
crutches isn't much use at carrying things. I unpack instead, dragging
bags of food to the right area and then unpacking them as quickly as Dad
and Mom carry them in. Sasha and Ma Vecchio turn up and closet themselves
in the kitchen to start an orgy of cooking. Dad and I make a sandwich run
at lunchtime - knowing full well if we asked the cooks for something we'd
get our heads bitten off. Instead we get praised for our `thoughtfulness'
and a list of chores to do. 

 I clean the bathroom while Dad vacuums the house and both of us
straighten the front room up. I take the opportunity to oil the carvings
and put the dogs in the right running order, with Chicago flicking his
paws out front and his mate Nanuk frisking along at the rear. 

 Welsh turns up with a police van full of trestle tables and benches, as
well as the long rolls of paper that stand duty as table cloths. You roll
out the amount you need, cut it off the roll and tack it to the table - no
muss, no fuss. Dewey pulls up a few minutes later and they start hauling
things out into the yard with Sasha coming out to help. I start with the
roll and tacks, pinning it down as neatly as possible and covering Mom and
Dad's picnic setting as well. I also fire up the grill so the coals will
be ready by the time everyone else arrives. 

 Fran, Tony, Angie and the kids roll up next with bowls of salad and
buttered rolls, then Turnbull and Thatcher arrive with some pastries for
desert - which Mom thanks them kindly for and Ma Vecchio takes charge of.
Dad cranks up the stereo and the kids haul out their toys, so it's a
joyful racket going on when Anthony and Marge arrive with their two kids.
I open the door, `cos I was inside at the time and Anthony pales a little
at the sight of me on crutches. 

 "Hey, bro," I say, pretending not to notice, "Come on in. Hello, Marge.
How was the trip?" 

 "Fine," Marge gushes, "How are you dear?" 

 I manage not to roll my eyes and smile instead. Her kids are trying hard
not to stare, they musta been given some huge kind of lecture about it
all. I hop backwards to let them all in and use the end of a crutch to
nudge the door shut. 

 "I'm good," I shrug, "Everyone's out back - it's turned into a bit of a
shindig out there. I'll let Mom know you're here if ya wanna drop yer
stuff in the spare room." 

 I head off without waiting for a reply, and hear the kids start
whispering straight away while Anthony and Marge try to shut them up.
Something in my face musta tipped Mom off `cos she kisses me on the cheek
and goes on inside before I can say anything. 

 "Uncle Ray! Come and play with us!" the girls call and I head on over to
toss the ball with them. Turnbull comes and joins in with us, making the
girls giggle. They like his red uniform and touch it whenever they can.
The call him Constable and salute when he tells them to answer their
mother - who is calling them for dinner. 

 Thatcher and Sasha are in a quiet little session with Welsh at one table
and Tony and Dewey are shooting the breeze together too. I go sit with Ma
Vecchio and help her put the last touches on the buffet. Anthony has
joined Dad and Turnbull at the grill and Mom is chatting with Marge,
Frannie and Angie. Marge looks a little out of place in her travelling
costume of neat skirt, blouse and low heels. At least she left the pearls
at home. Her kids are sitting neatly on the bench, staring at the
Vecchio's who are chasing each other around and laughing in a game with no
discernable rules. 

 All it would take for the day to be perfect would be Dief and Frase
sitting next to me.  

 Suzy calls me a day early to come get my legs and I go happily. Anthony
is being an ass about the damage and I'm ready to spear him with a crutch
and dangle him off the garage roof. Marge fawns and gushes all over the
joint and her kids are staring at their uncle the freak from the corners
of their eyes - I've even caught them peering at me from around the edges
of doors. 

 Take the day after the party. We're in the kitchen and bro and family
have arrived early to share breakfast with us. Dad's moaning about the
state of his lawn and how the guests have trampled it all flat, and Mom
starts in about how it was too long to start with. 

 "Pay me a fiver and I'll mow it for you," I tell Dad, just to shut him
up. He grins and digs around for his wallet while Mom laughs and says
she'd pay a fiver to watch. The fact that they know me well enough to
understand what I'm doing gives me a warm fuzzy. I'm about to make some
dirty crack about voyeurism that I hope the kids won't pick up on when
Marge does her `oh, but you couldn't possibly do that - Anthony will do it
for you Dad' speech. 

 "It was a joke, Marge," I tell her in a tired voice, "The most I'll be
doing is checking the mower over for Dad before he uses it." 

 "Good thing too - it's getting hard to start," Mom nods while Anthony
shoots Marge a look and the kids snigger. Dad rolls his eyes and goes out
to get the mower and tools - bringing the lot out into the yard. I get a
box to sit on and start stripping the mower down while Anthony goes to get
changed into some old trousers of Dad's. He comes out to watch me with the
engine. 

 "So...how are things? Do you need anything?" he asks me and I shake my
head. 

 "Nah. Welsh got me a sweet deal when I retired - the PD covers about
three quarters of my medical bills, and the work I do back home
supplements the pension I get as well," I clean a spark plug carefully and
set it aside. 

 "I thought...Mom said that you had a..." 

 "I stepped into a bear trap," I give him an out, "Better me that someone
with a real leg, right? It's in the shop at the moment." 

 That ends the discussion pretty effectively. I get the mower back
together and go inside while Anthony mows the lawn. Sasha comes over for
lunch and we decide to take the kids to the zoo for the afternoon, and
have dinner out. 

 To avoid the question of the damage, Dad has got into the habit of
dropping everyone off before he goes to park the car. I qualify to park in
the disabled spaces, but no one wants to rub it in. Marge, of course,
doesn't figure that out until she's asked why I don't use the disabled
space, and Mom shoots her a nasty look. Marge goes red and shuts up. I
feel kinda sorry for her - she's got no clue about the way family learns
when to shut up and when to speak. Mom and Dad have sorta been taking
their cues from me and I love them for it. Anthony and Marge are too blind
to pick up on that. They only see the damage, not me. 

 The kids are the next ones to stuff it up. I'm tired by dinnertime and
they want to go to the twilight feeding session that's being advertised.
Mom's shooting me little looks and Sasha's sticking close, so Dad suggests
we spilt up. Anthony and Marge can take the kids to the session and we'll
go home. He tries to cover for me with the `grandpa is getting old'
speech, but Anthony junior pipes up in a clear voice with: 

 "No you're not - it's `cos Uncle Stanley is crippled." 

 I stare at him and then put my head down and get the fuck away from the
kid before I suggest we use him as lion chow or something worse. I hear
voices raised in the background as I hobble away and try not to listen.
Sasha's raised her voice as well as Mom, while Anthony yells at his kids
and Marge yells at Anthony. 

 Eventually they catch up to me at the entrance and we all head for the
car in silence. Sasha kisses me goodnight when we get to the Vecchio's and
we don't go in. Suzy's message is on the machine and I'm so relieved that
Mom talks me into a cup of hot chocolate before bed. I haven't been
sleeping well, and I know I'm not gonna get any tonight, but I go to bed,
and go through the motions. The nightmare hits me straight away and I wake
up bawling my damn fool head off. Mom comes in and sits on the bed,
petting me and shushing like she did when I was a little kid. I calm down
after a while and eventually persuade her to go back to bed. When I'm sure
she's asleep I get dressed and go downstairs. 

 I carve for a while, and then start a chess game with myself. Eventually
I stretch out on the couch with a book. They find me there hours later,
almost finished. Mom comes and gives me a kiss and Dad sits in the
armchair nearby silently. I appreciate the support. They both come in to
the doctors with me - we called Sasha to let her know where we'd be, and
it wasn't until we got home that I realised they hadn't called Anthony -
and Suzy gave me a questioning look. I nodded and brought them into the
office with me while she did the fitting. 

 They asked a few questions - shooting me anxious looks, but I figured
they had a right to know what was going on and it saved me the
embarrassment of dealing with it by myself. Sasha answered like she does
me, and even showed them hers so they could compare things. She sat next
to me and held my hand while they looked at us and I squeezed her good and
hard in thanks. 

 I gimped on out of that office, feeling comfortable for the first time in
ages. The way the coat hanger is designed you can slip your boot or shoes
over it and the gimp is the only thing to tell people they`re looking at a
damaged guy. Mom and Dad were smiling and relieved about it all - which
was all to the good for me. We picked up Sasha and Ma Vecchio - squeezing
into the car in a noisy happy tangle and headed over to Mom's for lunch.
The idea was to go for one last great shopping expedition today and with
me back on my foot and coat hanger, I was chalked down to carry loads and
fetch things. Dad was coming to offer emotional support and Mom said
quietly that she was going to ask Marge and Anthony and the kids along
too. The open-air markets were on today and Sasha was real curious about
them. 

 Anthony junior sulked through an apology while his little sister stared
at the leg that I'd apparently grown overnight. Marge asked why we hadn't
called - they'd been waiting outside the house for a coupla hours and she
sounded a bit miffed by it all. 

 "My appointment ran over, we thought we'd be back sooner," I try to
smooth it over and Marge just sniffs. Mom gets a glint in her eye and I
head her off at the pass by telling Anthony I need a lift to the Consulate
on the way to the markets. I've got the carvings I did in a little box for
Turnbull - both the dog teams and sleds in full gear, with me and Frase on
the back like always. Anthony takes that meekly and Marge sits in the back
with the kids. They pull up and gawk at the guy on sentry duty, but I gimp
past real quick, muttering an apology for them as I do. Turnbull is
ecstatic in his thanks and Thatcher comes on out again to see what the
rumpus is this time. Her eyes go all soft when she sees Frase on the back
of his sled and I swallow down a moment of jealous possessiveness. She
might want him, but I've got him and it's gonna stay that way. 

 We meet up at the markets and at Ma Vecchio's suggestion we split into
groups. I go with Ma and Sasha and Dad and Mom go with Anthony and Marge.
I hear voices start up as we split up and sigh in defeat. 

 "Ah Caro," Ma Vecchio pats my arm, "Some people just cannot bear
differences. Love the ones who do, and tolerate the rest of them." 

 "I do, Ma," I tell her, leaning in to kiss her cheek, which startles
happy tears in her eyes, "Believe me I do." 

 I peck Sasha on the cheek too, and the next thing I know they've both got
an arm through mine and I'm escorting them along the aisles. It's enough
to make my hair stand on end without the gel, though I don't say that to
anyone. We spend a pleasant afternoon, wandering around and poking fun at
some of the strange and unusual things the stall owners think will sell. I
buy them both a gaudy bead bracelet and fasten it on like it's a diamond
tennis bracelet or something while they gush and carry on. I bought one
for Mom and Marge and little Samantha as well, and hand them over when we
meet up for dinner.  

 The last breakfast is a quiet one. I'm sorry to go, but at the same time
I'm eager to see my lover again. And this is my opportunity to tell them
about Frase and me. I didn't tell him I was gonna do this, because I
didn't want him to worry. I'm not gonna lie to my folks, though, and I
don't want them to start thinking I'm spending my life empty and alone up
there at the Creek. 

 We're lingering over the coffee, just sitting kinda quiet with the sun
shining in through the window when I take a deep breath and sit up
properly. Mom looks at me and Dad leans back, his eyes on my hands. It's
my old `I'm in trouble posture' and they react to it the way they always
have. 

 "I've got something to tell you both," I begin in a quiet voice while my
heart tries to beat its way out through my chest. Christ, this is hard,
and for a moment I wanna pike on the whole deal. I don't want to lose
them, but I don't want to lie to them either. 

 "There's no easy way to say this," I take a deep breath and stare at my
coffee dregs, "I'm kinda married again." 

 "What?!" Mom yelps, "Why didn't you tell us? Who is she? Why didn't she
come with you?" 

 "Calm down Barbara," Dad says, cutting her off. He's eyeing me off now,
and I think maybe he knows there's more to it than me living full time
with a woman without first seeing a preacher. 

 "Let the boy get a word in," Dad continues and Mom fixes me with a `spill
it' glare that has me sitting up even straighter. 

 "I didn't want to ruin things if you took it hard," I tell them both,
"But at the same time I'm not gonna lie about this to anyone. I'm not
ashamed of this `cos we love each other and what we have is real." 

 Mom's clued in too now, and she takes Dad's hand like she's waiting for
the other shoe to drop right on them. My guts twist up, but I force myself
to breathe deeply and not fidget. I'm not gonna stare at the table in
shame either, but it takes all I've got to look them in the eye for the
next part. 

 "Frase and I are a couple," I pray no one asks a couple of what, "And
we're happy together. I wanted you to know that I got someone who loves
me, damage and all, and I'm not alone any more." 

 Dad's lips twist, but otherwise they both stay still, saying nothing. I
nod to myself and look back down at the table. 

 "He couldn't leave the post, so I was gonna come down alone until Sasha
decided to come with me instead," I tell the wooden grain, "We wanted to
invite you both for Christmas this year, but I'll understand if you've
already made plans with Anthony and Marge." 

 There's a bit more silence, so I get up and go to the sink to put my mug
away. A glance at the clock and I tell them I'll call a cab for the
airport. This breaks through the shock and they tell me not to be stupid.
I go up for my bags while Dad gets the car out and Mom fixes the kitchen
up. 

 If Sasha notices the quiet when we get inside at the Vecchio's she
doesn't say anything. Ma makes me promise to write more often, and Frannie
gives me a letter for Frase. I hope it's not a marriage proposal or
anything and we head on out after yet another round of coffee and cakes. 

 I'm wired now from the silence and the lack of sleep this week and the
coffee, so I'm a bit restless, which earns me a pat on the leg from Sasha.
She figures I'm thinking about the flight, but I'm more worried about my
folks. I give her a grin for thanks and get out at the airport quickly.
Mom and Dad decide to come with us while we check in and then walk to the
gate. Sasha goes to get some magazines for the flight and comes back with
a bag of M&M's as well, which I take with a grin. Our flight is called and
Sasha gets hugged and thanked and promises to write and call. She heads
inside and I look at them awkwardly. Mom makes a tsking sound and hugs me
hard. 

 "Be happy," she whispers in my ear and I nod, swallowing hard and hiding
my face in her hair for a minute. She wouldn't lie to me about forgiving
me for falling in love with a man. We don't lie in our family, which is
why Dad and I didn't talk for so long. 

 "You too," I tell her in a husky voice and glance at Dad uncertainly. He
hugs me as well and pats my back in silence for a moment. 

 "We'll let you know about Christmas," he tells me gruffly, not meeting my
eyes and I nod. It's the best I can hope for, and I head into the plane
with them watching me gimp along. Sasha holds my hand for most of the
flight and I'm too grateful for contact with another human being to fuss. 

 "You were brave to tell them," she says when we're landing in Canada, and
I gape at her. She smiles and leans over to close my mouth with a gentle
finger, "Matt and I figured it out the first time we saw you two together,
honey. It's ok, we won't say anything." 

 I nod and sniff hard, getting it back under control. She pats my hand and
we get up to fight out of the plane and head for the hanger where Peter
Leavenworth is waiting to take us home.  

 Frase and Dief are standing by the jeep when we land, with Mr Rose next
to their truck as well. I get off and grab the luggage, walking Sasha over
first to deliver her to her man, doing it solemnly. He accepts his charge
just as seriously while she's telling us off as a bunch of cavemen and we
grin at each other. They get in and drive off while Peter heads out for
home as well, having run the plane into the hanger and locked it up. 

 I turn to Frase and walk straight into his arms. He hangs on hard and I
bury myself in him, taking in the loved Ben smell and the warmth and the
strength. He rocks me a little and Dief presses in close. I guess he can
tell something's wrong because he doesn't say anything either. 

 "I told `em `bout us," I mumble into his collar and Ben stops the
rocking. I pull my face up and look him in the eye. I get more knots in my
guts at the sight of his face - it's wooden and his eyes are a little
wide. 

 "I love you and I'm not hiding you in some closet. I told Mom and Dad
this morning before I left. It's hard to say if they'll be ok with it," I
bury my face again and clutch his body closer, "I love you." 

 "Oh Ray," Ben whispers in my ear, "Thank you. That must have been so
hard. No one has ever claimed me the way you have. I love you too. With
all my heart and soul." 

 I get all misty at that and sniffle a bit into his collar. 

 "I'm sorry," I hitch my breathing, and his arms tighten around my body
until I can barely breathe, "I'm just tired. Didn't sleep well this week.
I was alone again." 

 "Come on, dear heart," Ben kisses my gelled hair and Dief nuzzles me,
"I've arranged to take tomorrow off. I'm on call, but we can stay in
tomorrow. Let's go home and sleep, hmm?" 

 I'm feeling a little better and manage to let go of his body, though he
tangles one hand in mine and takes my other bag. We head over to the jeep
and Dief spends the trip with his head on my shoulder. The cabin is warm
and welcoming and we dump my bags in the bedroom. 

 "I have to take the jeep back to the post. Go on and have a shower, I'll
be back when you're done," Ben tells me, and gives my cheek a quick kiss,
"Dief - stay here." 

 I haven't got the energy to protest and Dief follows me into the
bathroom. He lies across the door while I strip and get in, letting the
hot water wash all the gel out and then cleaning myself like I was a
surgeon prepping for an operation. Everything is scrubbed and rubbed until
my skin is red, and Chicago is washed away. I turn the water off
reluctantly and dry off as quickly as I can, fitting the coat hanger back
on for the walk to the bedroom. I pull on sweat pants and a t-shirt before
going out to the kitchen. I'm reheating some stew when Ben gets back and I
raise my eyebrows at him. 

 "I called your parents to let them know you were home safe," he confesses
straight away, "Your mother said you'd left a pair of socks behind and she
will send them in the post." 

 "Were they...ok with you?" I ask nervously and he nods, coming to stand
behind me with his arms around my waist. I lean back into him and he makes
a pleased humming noise against the back of my neck. 

 "They were fine," he replies, "I could detect no discomfort in their
voices." 

 That doesn't mean anything - they both know how to put on a united front
for strangers. No one knew Dad wasn't talking to me for years, even old
Anthony didn't notice it at first. Dinner is almost ready and Frase kisses
the back of my neck before letting go. We eat in silence with his leg
curled around mine and we wash up in silence too. 

 In the bedroom we strip down to skin and slide into bed eagerly, fitting
our bodies together and sighing in pleasure when it all fits once more.
Dief is along my back and Ben is along my front. I press my cock to his
warm skin and kiss his collarbone a few times while he plays with my hair
as I slide easily into sleep. 

 I can't move when I wake and Ben is calling my name. My throat hurts and
I'm breathing so fast it's like I've run a race. Dief is on the floor, but
when he sees I'm awake he barks once and Frase stops pinning me to the
bed. They both look frightened and Dief gets back up to lick my face and
let me hide in his fur. Frase grabs my wrist and checks it, before looking
at the other one and running his hands over my body. 

 "Ray?" his voice is frightened too, and I pull my face away to look him
in the eye. He's shaking and white and looks like I feel, "Did I hurt
you?" 

 "No, Ben love," I tell him and reach out to hold him close, "God, I'm so
sorry. Did I do that?" 

 His cheekbone is red and warm to my touch. I musta socked him a good one,
even if I was asleep. He nuzzles into my hand but doesn't look away from
my face. I start wondering what I was screaming when he finally managed to
wake me to make him look that afraid. Whatever it was he looks terrified
that I'm gonna melt away or something. 

 "You didn't mean to," he leans in and kisses me tenderly, "I didn't duck
quickly enough. I love you." 

 I smile at him and pull him closer, so he rolls onto his side and lines
his body up along mine. We tangle our arms and legs together while our
breathing slows back to normal and Dief nuzzles me like a pup. He's still
lying on my chest, and Ben gives him an exasperated look. Dief flattens
his ears in reply and Ben opens his mouth. There's a glint in his eye
again and this time it's anger. 

 "C'mon guys, don't fight," I tell them tiredly and kiss them both, though
Ben gets tongue and eager stroking. He doesn't let that distract him
though, and reaches a hand to stroke my face when we pause for air. 

 "Were all your nightmares this bad in Chicago?" he asks me and I shrug as
well as I can with Dief still on top of me and my arm wrapped around him. 

 "I guess, I never remember them. Just the way they make me feel," I tell
him, "It's better with you here. I wake up and it's ok, because you love
me and I know I'm safe. Not to get too sappy, but you're my lifeline. I'm
sorry I hurt you." 

 "I'm not," Ben replies and leans down to kiss me. It's an intense kiss
and I respond eagerly, wanting more of his tongue and taste in my mouth.
Dief gets off me and I feel him get off the bed, pattering out to the
living room and lying down with a thump. Ben slides on over to take Dief's
place, settling onto my body. I groan into his mouth and wrap my legs
around him, settling his groin against mine. 

 His cock twitches and I rub myself against him eagerly, sending my hands
down to cup his ass and play with the crack there. He moans and salutes
the touch and then drags his mouth away from mine to gasp my name. I take
that to mean he likes the feeling and send my fingers between his cheeks
to touch and stroke everything I can find. My Ben starts groaning and
squirming, pushing back against my fingers until one lodges in his body. 

 "Ray! More!" he cries out and I pull free, kissing him hard and petting
him eagerly. 

 "Need wet stuff," I know that much about what we're doing, and I figure
if Stella needed to be played with before she could take me inside, so
would Ben. He whines miserably and drags himself off the bed to go get
some of hand cream that I use on the end of my leg to keep the skin from
drying out and tearing. He throws himself back on the bed eagerly and I
let him climb back on top of me, settling so his cock lines up with mine
and his thighs straddle my hips. 

 "How far do you want to go?" I gasp when he thrusts his cock on mine
hard, sending little sparks shooting all over my body. He kisses me hard
and puts some of the cream on my fingers before grabbing my wrist and
pulling until he's got me where he wants me. 

 "All," Ben seems incapable of human speech and starts playing with my
nipples while I reach around again and put my finger tip back inside. I
poke it in and out a little, and then push hard while he quivers and moans
and arches his back. His eyes are shut and I watch his face, fascinated at
the way he seems to go away from me, into the pleasure he's feeling from
my finger and his ass. 

 He opens his eyes and kisses me, long sloppy kisses with lots of tongue
and nibbling and sighing while I thrust my finger in and out until the
tight grip his body has on me loosens and I'm moving easily. His body is
begging for it, his cock so hard and dripping it must hurt. I add a second
finger carefully and start spreading my fingers a little while he pants
and fucks my ear with his tongue. He's driving my nipples crazy with his
hands and I'm enjoying this prelude, enjoying all the noises he's making
and the way my touch is turning him into cave-Mountie. 

 I stroke inside him and find the bump that all doctors are looking for
when they tell you to turn your head and cough. He goes nuts, screaming
and writhing and panting and begging for more. I add a third finger, and
he calms down a little at the discomfort. I know it's discomfort from his
grimace, but he won't let me go back to two fingers, rocking back and
forth slowly until he loosens up. I stroke that happy button over and over
and he starts to get excited again, a different excited, one that's gonna
lead to climax if he doesn't slow down. 

 I think he gets this, `cos he pulls himself off my fingers and grabs the
cream again, this time slathering it all over my cock. I nearly come right
there and he has to grab my balls to stop me. I'm lying there gasping for
air when he lines himself up and sits down slowly. I can see right away
that this hurts him and I grab at his hips, holding him up and helping him
go slow. 

 "Don't let me hurt you," I beg, but he shakes his head and keeps sinking
down. He finally sits in my lap and pants in pain. His cock has lost
interest in proceedings and I rub his belly nice and low to help with the
cramps - or at least that's what I think he's feeling from the look on his
face. My cock is in the tightest place it's ever been and I think I'll
come if he so much as breathes too deep. 

 I'm murmuring to him softly, and rubbing his belly when something inside
him gives and he makes a surprised little noise. He moves carefully and
hums to himself before starting to squirm all over my lap, shifting one
way and another and cataloguing how it feels. He's hijacked my damn cock
and I'm gonna go off like a rocket if he's not careful. I grab for his
cock and start rubbing and petting the way he likes it. This gets me
another noise and he settles into a rhythm while his cock firms up in my
hand and starts drooling again. I'm panting and making stupid little
noises as I push up into his weight. I can't thrust like this and it's
probably for the best, `cos I don't wanna hurt him. He shifts back against
me and I feel my cock hit his happy button. He shrieks and goes nuts,
wriggling and squirming as I hit it again and again, more by luck than on
purpose. He does this final shimmy and I scream as I come so hard I'm
seeing stars. I musta come all over his happy button `cos he goes off like
a rocket, and falls on top of me at the end. 

 If there's a pause between coming and sleeping, then I don't notice it.  

 Chapter Seven 

 If either one of us dreams any more that night I don't notice it. I wake
with Ray beneath me, his body completely lax and sated. My own body feels
heavy and cumbersome, but I don't wish to move. I am astonished that after
all this time I've discovered something about my body that I didn't know.
Not only is the stimulation to my prostate a powerful aphrodisiac, the act
of allowing Ray to slide into my body and eventually come to climax inside
me is powerfully alluring. 

 I sigh happily and kiss the man beneath me, sliding very carefully to one
side and watching as he follows my body, snuggling into the shelter of my
arms and mumbling my name. My heart swells at the comfort my presence so
obviously gives him and I kiss him again. We both smell strongly - a male
scent that I've only smelt faintly before in my more traditional couplings
- and my belly is sticky as well where my seed dried on it as we slept. My
rear is also rather tender, though I expected that result, based on
previous physical exams. 

 Ray stirs a little in his sleep and I make soothing noises, kissing his
forehead and caressing his body until he settles once more. Diefenbaker
returns to the bedroom and gives me a calculating look before leaping onto
the bed and settling beside Ray. He's right - I don't want to risk waking
my lover by starting an argument - and I make a note to speak to him
later. 

 Ray stirs and pulls his head back to look at me through sleepy eyes. His
hair is spiked from sleep. I felt such a rush of affection when he stepped
off the plane with his hair gelled yesterday - he looked just like he used
to, only a little thinner. I wonder if I can persuade him to keep the
habit - experimental hair suits Ray. He's looking deeply into my eyes and
frowning a little, then his face clears and he smiles for me, leaning in
for a kiss. 

 "Good morning Ben love," he whispers softly in my ear, "How are you
feeling?" 

 "A little tender, but very good," I reply honestly - he knows that the
initial act of penetration hurt last night, and won't appreciate a lie. He
kisses my collar bone in the spot that makes me feel all warm and
agreeable - another thing I didn't know about my body - and then pulls
back a bit, leaning into Dief, who promptly drapes his head over Ray's
shoulder. 

 "Would you like breakfast in bed?" he asks me and I smile while I think
it over. He wants to pamper me - and after all the pampering I've tried
with him I guess turn about is fair play. 

 "I would enjoy that very much. Will you join me?" I run a finger over his
eyebrow and he nods, ducking into the touch for a moment. He reaches a
hand back to ruffle Diefenbaker's fur and then sits up. 

 "I'll get you a wash cloth," he tells me and swings his legs over the
bed. He puts the prosthesis on, glances at me out of the side of his eyes
and then grabs the sweat pants that he wears to bed. With the prosthesis
disguised Ray seems more comfortable and he heads quickly for the
bathroom. Dief sighs in disappointment and I have to agree - it will be a
while longer before my love is comfortable showing me his body and all
it's perceived faults. 

 Ray cleans me up and then leans over to kiss me again. He is very
solicitous of me this morning - probably due to our new experience last
night - and I find it very enjoyable. None of my lovers has ever treated
me this way after sex. I feel cherished, not something I'm familiar with. 

 Breakfast is a slow affair, with Dief grumbling that he didn't get any.
Ray tells him that wolves don't eat in the bedroom - it's a new house rule
- and Dief groans. He heads out to the kitchen for his own share of the
breakfast, which I'm sure is generous. We sit together and feed each other
from our own plates as well as talking. Snuggling is impossible sadly, but
Ray clears the trays away and then comes back to join me in the bed,
finally snuggling close and sighing in contentment. 

 "Tell me about Chicago," I request and he strokes my chest lightly. I
hold him and listen as he tells me about Ma Vecchio and his parents. The
2-7 is discussed lightly, with me inquiring after mutual acquaintances. He
trembles a little when he discusses his brother's family, and laughs when
he talks about Turnbull and Inspector Thatcher. By the time he runs out of
words he's yawning again, despite the fact that we've only been awake for
a few hours. 

 "Sorry," he apologises, "Guess I'm still not caught up on my sleep." 

 "Rest, then," I tell him, "I'll be here." 

 His eyes are troubled when he looks at me and I smile. He nods eventually
and settles down, closing his eyes and relaxing slowly. I'm wide awake and
I spend the time thinking about his visit and what he didn't tell me about
his brother and sister-in-law. After and hour or so Ray twitches in his
sleep and makes a distressed noise. 

 "Shh love, I'm here. You're ok," I say softly, running my hands over his
body in wide sweeps. He twists a little and then settles down again,
burrowing closer to me in the bed and throwing a leg over mine. I let it
fall between my thighs and stroke his hair gently. We avert a few
nightmares this way, until he starts shuddering and gasping and I can't
stop him. Even Dief licking the back of his neck doesn't wake him as he
squirms and groans in my arms. He wakes with a yell and it's my turn to
pamper and cherish him until the worst is once more over.  

 Ray comes in with me the next morning, and greets Constable Stevens
happily, handing over a bag from his luggage. Stevens looks inside and
smiles before dropping it into his drawer. If I didn't trust both men
implicitly I'd be worried. I've come to see that Stevens is a good man -
if a little awkward around others. My Ray is a firm friend of his - a
testimony in his favour to be sure, and Stevens loses some of his
formality in Ray's company. 

 Mary Sue comes in punctually at eight and stutters to a halt when she
sees Ray. His face lights up in a smile and he walks over to take her
coat, hanging it up and asking after her family. The scar on the side of
her face is still rather red and noticeable, but Ray acts like it's not
there, much the same way that Stevens and I have been doing. If anyone
knows how hateful it is to be stared at, my Ray does. She regains some of
her balance and starts work on the files in her tray. We set her desk up
in the back of the office to afford her some protection and privacy - this
has helped her settle into the work, though her skills are not what I'd
wish. Francine Vecchio was more competent on her first day at the 2-7 than
this frightened child. 

 "That reminds me Frase," Ray has been looking at Mary Sue's attempts to
get her work organised, "Frannie sent you a letter." 

 "How did you know..." I stop myself from completing that sentence, and he
grins at me. This man knows me so well - I'm comforted by that thought. He
fishes the heavily scented envelope from his inner pocket and hands it
over before slipping into the chair next to Mary Sue and offering her some
coaching on how to work in a `bull pen'. 

 I glance through the morning reports, making notes to pass on to Stevens
and possible tasks for Mary Sue before reading my letter from Fran. She's
warmly affectionate in her writing and has issued an invitation for my
next leave time. I make a note to reply, and hint that I'm taken so as not
to embarrass her when we next meet, and then look up as the door to the
post opens. 

 Matt Rose enters with a grin, handing over the weekly order of supplies
for the post, and telling Stevens that he will be expected at dinner that
evening. 

 "Thank you kindly, sir," Stevens smiles, "I look forward to seeing Mrs
Rose and hearing about her trip to Chicago." 

 "Hey! No gossip!" Ray says from where he's sitting with Mary Sue, "No
fair!" 

 Matt chuckles and winks before telling us goodbye and heading back out to
the store. I settle into the daily business and Ray gets up after a while,
telling me he's going to take the team out for some exercise. I nod -
knowing better than to try and delay or dissuade him so I can go too.
After his enforced immobility in Chicago, he won't want to be smothered in
attention out of bed. I bite down on a grin, remembering how responsive he
is in bed and force myself not to go any further with that mental image.
By the time I'm under control the dogs are in the yard and Ray is settling
them into the harness. 

 "I might not be back for lunch," he calls over their eager noise, "I've
got some food with me and they need a good long run." 

 "Very well," I say from my position on the steps. Dief makes a querying
noise and Ray shakes his head at the wolf, sending him a stern look.
Diefenbaker is to guard me while Ray is away and I smile at my lover,
relishing that he's so protective of me, and at the same time knowing that
we both know that I don't really need it. I watch them out of sight,
enjoying the graceful way Ray yields and flows to the movement of the sled
as they run along the spring grass and out onto the mountain ridge. 

 Diefenbaker goes back inside unhappily and trots to sit with Mary Sue
while she wrestles with the database. Stevens leaves for his appointed
rounds and I make a note to ensure he has a stretch of leave time soon -
he is shaping into a fine officer and needs to be kept from going stale.  

 By dusk Ray has still not returned and I am becoming increasingly
concerned. Diefenbaker paces the floor unceasingly and Stevens sits at his
desk, switching his gaze from the clock to the budget he is working on so
often I'm surprised he doesn't get dizzy. 

 At thirty minutes to the hour he stands decisively while Mary Sue goes to
stand at the window. I reflect that the constable and I are both thinking
that we never discovered who set the traps around the post and wondering
if he has struck again. 

 "I'll tell Mrs Rose I'm not coming," he tells me, "Then I'll help you
prepare for the search. Perhaps we can call in some of the town to
assist." 

 I thank him and Mary Sue shakes her head decisively. It doesn't seem to
be in her character to act this way - but perhaps the incident that
scarred her face has also helped her mature. Whatever the reason is, I'm
glad to see the innate shyness and nervousness she's displayed the last
week pushed aside for a moment. 

 "I'll go," she says firmly, "That way you can get started quicker. Dad is
a good tracker - he's home right now Sergeant." 

 "Thank you kindly," I nod to her, "Start getting the dogs ready Constable
- standard gear on the sled. I'll also alert the clinic." 

 Quite a crowd of people accompany me back to the post. Sasha and Matt
Rose are there already, packing the gear on the list that Stevens has
written out for them. I go out into the yard and frown at Stevens as he
puts the last dog into the harness. 

 "That is not my usual..." I begin and he points to the harness that I
habitually use. I pick it up and Stevens directs my attention in a low
voice. The main line of the harness is cut almost through - any sudden
strain would snap it immediately, or a long period of normal strain. 

 "If Ray didn't notice it when he harnessed his own team..." Stevens does
not finish his thought and I am grateful. Diefenbaker growls low in his
throat and I nod, stooping to put him into place at the head of the team.
Sasha appears with the emergency equipment for the sled and I thank her in
a quiet voice. I tell Stevens to organise the search parties and tell him
that Dief and I are going to follow the ridge to begin with, and then
we'll leave markers so others can follow our route. If we haven't found
Ray by morning I want extra help called in from the other posts and the
emergency care helicopter on stand by. The clinic in town is already on
alert - I can see the lights on in its windows from here as dusk starts to
deepen. 

 "Maybe you should wait for daybreak," Matt Rose says quietly as Stevens
and I finish balancing the sled. I shake my head in reply and move into
position at the rear of the sled. 

 "Dief! Find Ray! Go!" I run the sled forward as the dogs bark and take
off, Diefenbaker with his nose to the ground as he leads us along the line
we watched Ray take only a few hours ago. Behind me I hear several cars
and other vehicles start up, and further in the distance I can hear a
second dog team - Buckers - preparing to head out. 

 At this time of year dusk lingers for quite a while, and I am grateful
for that. There are lamps on the sled that I light when Dief slows, and
they send enough light around us to allow my wolf partner to speed up
again. He is following Ray's scent trail by now, running surely as he
tracks his pack mate. I am grateful that he has imprinted Ray like this
and make a note not to object too much the next time he wants to join Ray
on the bed. 

 I hear the other dogs before I see them. The snapping of the harness sent
them into a fall that ensnared them amongst some rocks. Chicago and Nanuk
are patiently gnawing on the harness that holds them in place; despite the
fact the harness is designed to withstand such an attempt. When they catch
our scent they begin to bark and howl, guiding us to them. 

 The remains of the sled are also scattered against the rocky outcrop and
for a horrified moment I think I will find Ray in a similar condition. I
release Chicago from his traces and he yelps, bounding off in a hurry. I
leave the rest of the team there and follow him. He locates Ray quickly,
and stands over his body, watching Diefenbaker and myself with wary eyes.
It takes me a while to convince him that I will not hurt his master. 

 Ray has rolled downhill - and is quite a way from the sled. I believe he
initially came to rest further downhill, but there is evidence he was
trying to pull himself back to the team - possibly in order to free them
to get help. I drop to the ground beside him, whispering his name and
stroking his hair back from the bloody gash on his forehead. There is no
response to my touch and I have to force myself to check the rest of his
body for further injuries.  

 Ray wakes in the clinic, a little disoriented and in some pain from the
wound to his head. His concussion is not life threatening, though the
nurses feel it best he remain where he can be supervised closely for a
while. Incredibly, the rest of his injuries are minor - some cuts and
strains, as well as the inevitable bruises and strains. His right leg is
checked over very carefully for injury while he is unconscious, and then
again when he wakes. My Ray puts up with the fussing with a clenched jaw
and short answers. The nurses are excellent and know when to back off -
for which I am grateful. Ray would hate himself for yelling at people who
were only doing their job and trying to help him. 

 Stevens and I man the post. When we're not filling out the paperwork on
the rescue and dealing with the hundreds of calls about Ray's accident -
the clinic has the answering machine on so they can screen the calls, in
fact their message contains an update of Ray's condition - we're examining
the harness and garages for clues. 

 "What puzzles me is that the dogs themselves didn't object to the
intruder," Stevens muses as we pause for the lunch that Sasha Rose has
insisted we eat, "I'd have heard them in the night - and we'd have heard
them in the day." 

 "Maybe they knew whoever did it," Mary Sue pipes up from her desk, where
she is munching her own sandwiches. Stevens head whips around to look at
her and then at me. There is merit in that suggestion - as horrible as it
may be to think that someone who was trusted by the post would be capable
of several attempts at murder and mayhem. 

 "Who do the dogs have the most contact with, apart from the people on
post?" I asked him immediately. His forehead wrinkled in thought. The list
would not be extensive, yet at the same time it was difficult to recall
whom Ray met with the dogs when outside the post. 

 "Apart from the three of us," Stevens said finally, "Bucker, the vet
Patterson Michaels and the delivery men - from Munhall." 

 The deliverymen from Munhall were a contracted firm that transported the
RCMP's cargo and supplies from head office, as well as our regular
stationary orders from the larger stores in the city. Stony Creek was a
large town, but Munhall was larger and had more facilities, such as a
hospital and courthouse. 

 There were four regular deliverymen who brought in the dogs supplies.
They were obliging people who unloaded straight into the storage area.
Despite the regular deliveries we'd never really gotten to know them
beyond the friendly hello and the conventions of polite society. We
offered coffee and the bathroom to them - Sasha Rose put on sandwiches
which were always wolfed down with appreciation - but the four men were
not disposed to linger or chat, and to be truthful the delivery days were
busy ones for us as well, so neither Stevens or myself were disposed to
chat. 

 "We had a delivery before you arrived - the day before in fact," Stevens
says calmly, "There was heavy snow that afternoon - it would have covered
their tracks. It was the quarterly delivery - so all four of them were
here, and two trucks." 

 There was no hint of accusation or malice in his voice - we both knew
that their presence did not automatically indicate guilt, or even
involvement. However, the coincidence is attractive - it absolves our
local people of any wrong doing, and gives us a fresh angle to work. 

 "Poor Ray," Mary Sue sighed, "He's got no luck at all. Both times there's
something lying in wait around here, and both times he finds it." 

 My head comes up at that. There is truth in her sentiments. Stevens and I
have assumed that so far one or both of us was the target. What if Ray has
been the target all along? My Ray has made far more enemies than I - and I
have the added support of the local law network. Should a prior arrest of
mine get out of jail promising vengeance, I would be contacted
immediately. Ray, however, was out of the loop in Chicago, though
Lieutenant Welsh would send word as soon as he could. If we were in
Chicago all of Ray's arrests would be examined for a possible protagonist
- including the ones still incarcerated. The American prison system was
notorious for allowing its inmates out too early, or allowing them to
contact fellow criminals who had yet to be locked up. 

 "I'm going to contact Lieutenant Welsh," I tell Stevens, "I want you to
call the post in Munhall and get them to check into the background of our
delivery firm. Anything they find is to be sent here, highest priority." 

 "Yes sir," Stevens nods and turns to his phone while I do the same. It's
time to stop reacting to the threats and start preventing further
incidents. 

 Ray did not survive Chicago to be killed in Canada. Not while there was
breath in my body.  

 Ray's eyes open when I slip into his room. He still looks pale and washed
out propped in the bed uncomfortably. We made some effort to make him
comfortable initially, but by then he was very grumpy from the continued
fuss and bother about him - a reaction dating back to his time in the
hospitals in Chicago. We had to give it up as he was becoming too
distressed - and that was distressing me. I knew I could make him
comfortable - his eyes clung to me in supplication, but I had no control
over the people in the clinic and I was forced to watch him drift off
uncomforted. The nurses are all at the other end of the clinic now, and
I've locked the door so we won't be interrupted for a few hours. I smile
and bend to kiss him tenderly, brushing a hand over his hair and then
quietly reposition him in the bed. He sighs when I'm done and takes my
hand. This is what we both wanted when he was first put to bed here - it
does us both good to finally get it. 

 "Better?" I kiss the hand holding mine and sit in the chair beside him.
He nods and blinks in response. We sit quietly for a while and he dozes on
and off, checking that I haven't left between naps. It fills me with
warmth that my simple presence reassures him so much - more than any
declaration of love could ever do so. Stevens and I both agreed to take a
rest break, so naturally I came to see my Ray. I am more than content to
guard his rest, the tightness in his muscles giving way to genuine
relaxation as he sleeps off the last of the headache. The next time he
wakes to check that I'm there his eyes clear and he takes a deep breath to
wake up properly. 

 "Where's number one son?" his teasing name for Diefenbaker is welcome to
my ears - it means he's feeling better. 

 "Outside. The nurses won't let him in. I promised to tell you he's
thinking of you," I smile and lean over to kiss him again. His lips are
warm and welcoming, pliant against my own. It's several minutes before I
release him reluctantly and lean back a little to see how he's doing. His
eyes are shining with soft love and there's a little colour to his cheeks.
The bandage is perched on spiky hair, though that comes more from the
blood they washed out of it than the gel he used to use. I've drifted into
my thoughts, but Ray pulls me back with a single question. 

 "Was that from Dief?" my wicked lover asks me and I start in my chair. My
wolf had better not have been kissing Ray like that, or I'll take a stick
to him - then skin the wolf. I see the half grin that he can't quite
disguise and lean in again, deliberately licking him from chin to temple
in a wet, broad swathe. 

 "That was," I tell my protesting man. He's got his face scrunched up in
protest and he's half laughing, though I can see it's woken his headache
again. He's adorable, and I make a mental note to never tell him that -
I'll be sleeping on the couch for years if I do. 

 "Don't make me laugh," he begs, "That's disgusting Frase." 

 I smile and lean in for another kiss. We lose ourselves once more as our
tongues and lips meet and meld. I keep it slow and tender, not wanting to
hurt him in any possible way. When we break for breath he pulls my hand to
his chest and sighs happily. 

 "I love you," he smiles, "I'm sorry I scared you. Do we have any leads?" 

 Three sentences and he's reassured, comforted and redirected me entirely.
It's easy to forget that this wonderful man was a top detective - one of
the best in Chicago. There isn't much scope for his skills as a detective
here and I'm filled with awe that he could totally retrain himself to
become the town mechanic and jack of all trades in a small Canadian
outpost, thousands of miles from everything that he grew up with. And this
is before I arrived and he confessed his love for me. I drag myself back
to his question before he can fret himself into worry over the answer. 

 "We may have. It's possible that these attacks weren't aimed at the RCMP,
but at you personally. We're looking at the deliverymen from Munhall. I've
contacted Lieutenant Welsh in Chicago for any possible links between an
old case and them men out here. We're getting background checks run in
Munhall and hopefully we'll be able to make a match." 

 "You think they're after me?" Ray is fading slowly, but struggling to
hold on, "Why? They've never met me, and if they wanted me they'd come
after the cabin, right? Ben love?" 

 "It's possible they don't know where you live. These attacks are
opportunistic in nature. Don't worry my own, I'll be careful. Diefenbaker
will stay with me," I reassure him and lean in to kiss him back to sleep. 

 When I'm sure he's asleep I check my watch and settle back in the hard
chair for a few more hours. It's not the relaxed rest that Stevens assumed
I'd be getting when we agreed to take a rest, but that's between the chair
and me. 

 As far as I know Stevens doesn't talk to chairs. If he does it's an
aberration that I've missed...	

 Stevens looks up as I re-enter the post. He's at the fax machine, rapidly
sorting papers into order and then slipping them into folders, organising
the data before handing it to Mary Sue to be checked and logged. She's
filling out a receipt to be faxed back to HQ efficiently and it strikes me
how well the two of them work together. I put that aside for now to accept
the first folder as they say hello and inquire after Ray. Diefenbaker
whines miserably as I answer and I look down at him in commiseration. 

 "You know that you're not allowed in hospitals," I tell him, not without
sympathy. I get a low grumble in response and sigh. 

 "That was Ray's idea," I tell him, "It was different circumstances
entirely. Ray was worried I might die and didn't want you to miss your
chance to say goodbye - plus he was feeling guilty about shooting me. Ray
is in no danger and will be released tomorrow morning. You can see him
then." 

 Stevens and Mary Sue look from one to the other of us, but decide not to
interfere. I take the rest of the folders from Stevens and go to sit at my
desk. As Ray's former partner in Chicago it makes sense that I review the
files quickly first for any familiar names. I discard the first folder
quickly, passing it to Stevens to review against the arrest and
misdemeanour records from our post - there's no point in missing a
potential solution. Mary Sue double checks Stevens work, as there is quite
a substantial list to go through. 

 The third file gives me pause, as does the fourth. The fax machine beeps
and I get up to log the fax through automatically. It's from the 2-7 and I
wait impatiently for the machine to finish. I log it in, send the receipt
and then go back to my deck, rifling through the pages until my findings
are confirmed. 

 "Peter and Paul Davies," I sigh, "Arrested by Ray just before he was
injured for racketeering. The twin brothers both got thirty-year sentences
- apparently they backed up their business rather brutally. They swore to
get back at Ray and have been writing to various members of their
families, including two cousins that they used to visit rather often when
they were children. One by the name of Mark Antwerp and the other by the
name of Samuel O'Neill. Antwerp and O'Neill are two of our delivery men." 

 "Oh dear," Stevens sighs, and Mary Sue pales a little at his side. As far
as I know she's never had contact with the deliverymen - she has become a
little man shy in the aftermath of her attack, and who can blame her. The
last delivery day we had, Stevens and I arranged for her to be out of the
office - she had a day-in-lieu, which she spent shopping in Munhall with
her mother. We benefited from that trip - Mary Sue came back with some
very smart clothes and a haircut that improved her appearance no end. Upon
his return from Chicago, Ray did a double take and pretended to chat her
up, asking Stevens who the `new girl' was while she giggled at his antics.
As I remembered it, Stevens hadn't been too impressed with my lover's
antics, though I had been comfortably secure in my Ray's affections. 

 "Now what?" Mary Sue asks, and I echo the question silently. Having a
cousin in prison is not a criminal offence - though we have motive and
opportunity, we still have no proof of guilt. 

 "Now we establish their level of involvement," Stevens once more walks
the fine line between stating the facts and accusation, "We need to
re-examine the physical evidence we have and look for anything we may have
overlooked." 

 "I'll contact Welsh," I say wearily, "Perhaps he has some idea's of how
to establish their involvement from his end in Chicago." 

 As I reach for the phone, I flip through the calendar. We have another
three weeks before the next delivery is due - Ray's accident occurred only
days after our last delivery. That will give us more than ample time to
re-examine the evidence and come up with a plan.  

 Chapter Eight 

 Things do not go according to plan. The bad luck that once dogged us in
Chicago - how else can you explain the bizarre and dangerous situations we
found ourselves in the midst of - returned to haunt us just as Ray was
released from the clinic and into my care. 

 Diefenbaker was ecstatic - showing his delight in a very vocal and
juvenile manner. Stevens had agreed to come to the cabin to collect the
jeep - I wasn't about to allow Ray to walk such a distance so soon after
his head injury, nor was I going to leave him alone - so I had a short
time to settle them both. 

 Ray declined to go to bed and rest, stating that he was tired of lying
around doing nothing, so I agreed reluctantly to sitting on the couch with
him and Diefenbaker. My wolf partner was not in the mood to share, if the
look he was casting my way was any indication, but Ray soon had him calmed
down, mainly by rubbing his ears and neck until Dief was a silver puddle
of goo on the couch. 

 "If he was a cat, he'd be purring," Ray chuckled to me, though I saw he
was very careful to turn his head so Diefenbaker couldn't read his lips. I
chuckled too, and leaned in for a kiss. We sit quietly for a while, just
absorbing each other's presence and reconnecting. Eventually Ray tips his
head back and helps himself to my lips, kissing me warmly, nuzzling into
my mouth and sighing in contentment. I shift a little for a better angle -
one that's more comfortable for us both. Ray melts into me, kissing and
suckling with a dreamy expression, totally lost in my mouth and warmth.
Neither one of us is very coherent when we pause for a moment, snuggling
close and simply existing for a long stretch. Dief has gone to sleep with
his head in Ray's lap and the cabin is quiet. 

 Quiet enough for me to hear the stealthy footsteps approaching the door.
I stiffen, and Ray looks up sharply, frowning at the noise. We both know
that Stevens wouldn't come up the path this way - and we were half
expecting Sasha and Matt Rose to come with him. Dief lifts his head from
Ray's lap, his lips pulled back in a silent snarl as he reacts to our
tension and detects the intruders himself. I get up silently and head for
the bedroom where I keep my gun locked away when I'm off duty. When I
return to stand in the doorway, Ray is upright, a hand restraining Dief by
the scruff of the neck, facing the door with a determined expression. 

 A glance tells me the door is locked, but neither of us has drawn the
curtains today - enjoying the late sunshine. Ray moves swiftly to my side,
tugging Dief with him, out of view of the windows. A moment later a face
peers in quickly, pulling back after a second and then edging into view
for a longer look. It's Antwerp. I'm glad of the heft of my revolver in my
hand and reach out to touch Ray. Our eyes connect for a moment before we
turn and watch, as he looks around as best he can and then turn to look at
someone out of sight. Ray glances at the open curtains in the bedroom
window and then tugs me to crouch beneath the window just in time to duck
O'Neill. Dief is quivering in Ray's grip and my man has his mouth over
Dief's muzzle to keep him quiet. So far our wolf is obeying the command,
but if Antwerp or O'Neill should come inside... 

 We move out for a look after a moment. The window is clear, and there are
footsteps around the side of the cabin, heading confidently for the back
door. They must have decided there was no one home, despite the jeep
parked out the front. I check that there is no one looking in from the
front or rear windows, then tug Ray towards the door. 

 "The woods," I whisper in his ear and he nods. The cabin is too confined
to risk confronting our adversaries - but in the woods near our home we
are at a distinct advantage. We slip out the door and run.  

 Ray moves quickly ahead of me, ducking into the shelter of the trees
silently, and then waiting for me to catch up. 

 "We need back up," I tell him quietly, and he frowns. Ray is not stupid -
he knows that it will fall to him to go into town for backup while I
remain here. He is unarmed and lame besides, though it's hurting me to
have to think like this about the energetic man who is my lover. He looks
down at Dief, and then nods. Going to one knee he takes Dief's ruff in
both hands and makes the wolf look him in the eye. 

 "Protect Ben," he orders in a hard voice. Without waiting for a response
he's up, kissing me hard and then moving away - determination in every
step. I don't make any attempt to promise him anything about safety or
waiting. We both know that the situation could change at any second. The
fact that Stevens could, at this moment, be heading our way is giving me
hope that he won't have to go far. 

 I turn my attention back to the cabin, focusing my eyes and ears on it as
best I can. Both are in excellent condition and allow me to discern faint
sounds of movement in the cabin. When I am sure that they are settled in
to wait for Ray and myself to innocently come home I use the cover of the
trees to fall back a bit further. The contents of the cabin are not as
important as Ray or myself and I'll help clean, repair and replace
anything he deems worthy of the effort once the miscreants are out of
harms way. 

 I don't have long to wait. Ray and Stevens are beside me in thirty
minutes time. Ray gives me a look of relief, then settles back to allow me
to brief them on our quarry's possible plan. 

 "Are they armed?" Stevens question is a valid one, and one that I'm
unable to answer. They could be carrying weapons - Ray and I never saw
their hands. We were too busy hiding while I retrieved my revolver. Ray's
face is worried when I tell Stevens that I can't answer the question, but
he sees me watching and just nods once. 

 "We stopped at the Leary house - there's back up on the way from
Munhall," Stevens tells me, "And I took the liberty of calling Mary Sue -
she's informing the clinic to stand by for casualties." 

 "Understood," I tell him, and look at my lovers cabin. 

 "They better not be messing with the stereo in there," Ray growls the
apparently unconnected comment out and Stevens grins. 

 "Agreed. After the trouble we had hooking the speakers up..." 

 We both welcome the show of support and I nod to my colleague before
getting back to business. 

 "I believe that the best option is for us to flush them out of the
cabin," I tell them both, "If we can get them to run out the back and
somehow corral them into the woodshed." 

 "Dief is a wolf, not a collie," Ray interprets the disgusted look
Diefenbaker is giving me over my word choice, "And besides, the only way
to get them out is to let them know we're here. If they've got hunting
rifles, we're goners." 

 "Alternatives?" I ask crisply, and Stevens eyes the smoking chimney on
our roof. 

 "We could smoke them out," he suggests, "There is a tree that will allow
someone to get onto the roof - if we stop up the chimney..." 

 "You'd have to be quiet," Ray cautions, "The slightest noise could get
you an arse full of bullets." 

 "I can do it," Stevens looks at me for permission, "If we can find a way
to secure one of the doors to contain their exit..." 

 "It's possible," I allow, "What would you use on the chimney?" 

 "There's some puddles back there - he could soak our shirts in them. Wet
material is the best," Ray speaks up then blushes, "Mis-spent youth." 

 I allow a smile to quirk my lips and we set about shedding our top
layers. I wonder where Ray learned to stop up chimneys - probably visiting
a relative in a small town; I make a note to ask him later. The plan
leaves me in a Henley and Ray in a shirt. Stevens is in his skivvies and
he accepts our items of clothing sombrely. He heads back for the puddles
that Ray mentioned while I move to block off the back door.  

 It doesn't take long for me to return to Ray and Diefenbaker. He nods
once, the anxiety in his eyes abating a little at my safe and undetected
return. Stevens is only moments behind, the now wet material bundled under
one arm. We watch him carefully move through the cover to the tree that
grows on the blind side of the cabin. Internally, that is the wall with
the built in storage and bookshelves. The pantry runs along that wall,
though it has a skylight in its part of the roof. 

 Stevens skins up the tree quickly and is balancing along the overhanging
branch in no time at all. He moves slowly onto the roof, every movement
speaking of control and caution. The loft - the space between the sloped
roof and the internal ceiling - that provides storage space and some
insulation will muffle a little noise, but he must be careful not to make
any regular sounds that could be taken for footsteps. 

 Though it is only a short distance to the chimney, Stevens takes ten
minutes to reach it. Ray holds his breath in anxiety now and then, though
Stevens is sure-footed and calm. Finally, he reaches his objective and
very carefully tamps the wet clothing into the flue. The smoke stops
immediately - cut off by the plug as we planned. Ray and I both move into
readiness, though I can't help but notice that he cannot achieve the
smooth crouch that I became accustomed to seeing in Chicago. 

 Inside the cabin there are sudden yells and coughing noises as the smoke
flows out of the strange, round fireplace that Ray owns and into the
cabin. After a few minutes the door opens and both men lurch out, gasping
and wheezing for air. It is a moments work for me to leap out and knock
the rifles from their hands while Diefenbaker growls and plants himself
between them and the door. Stevens drops off the roof to collect the
rifles and it is the work of a moment to secure a prisoner each while Ray
secures the rifles. 

 We move as a polished team, and before the men inside know what has hit
them they are in the back of the jeep with the caution ringing in their
ears. Ray has gone inside to extinguish the fire and check that there is
no damage or other unwelcome surprises lying around. 

 "All clear in here, Frase," he calls from the window, which he is opening
to let the smoke out and the fresh air in. Stevens climbs the tree again -
it is the work of minutes now that he doesn't need to worry about being
shot at. Our ruined clothing comes down with a nasty thud and he follows
lightly. 

 I yell out to Ray that we're leaving for the post - Antwerp is still
wheezing heavily and the clinic nurses should see to him - and that
Diefenbaker is staying with him. We leave the front yard before he can
object. 

 I won't leave him unprotected, not even with the two men who were trying
to kill him secured to the back seat behind me. If that means I'm sleeping
on the couch until he calms down, so be it.  

 We are delayed at the post, waiting for reinforcements to arrive and then
completing all the millions of forms and interviews needed to process them
into custody. That's an exaggeration. It's only twelve really, but when
I'm separated from the man I love, even one is too many to fill out. 

 I leave Stevens talking to Mary Sue as our colleagues finally leave. It's
truly dark now, but I am unworried about the trip - I could find my Ray in
any conditions. He is my true north, and I make a mental note not to tell
him that either. I have some pride. 

 Light and sound pours from the open windows and doors of the cabin. It
blazes to me like a beacon and I hurry my footsteps eagerly. Ray is still
airing the cabin out, and our bedding is draped over the rails along the
front porch. I move past it without pause and halt in the doorway. 

 The furniture has been moved back against the walls and Dief is lying on
the couch, watching my lover intently, a delighted lupine grin stretching
his face. The music is Santana's `Smooth', set to repeat over and again,
the classic guitar riffs and growled words a perfect accompaniment to the
sight before me. 

 Ray is dancing - his hips snapping lightly from side to side, his hands
held in the air as he shuffles lightly around the room, signing along to
the music. The energy is there - and though his movements aren't quiet as
supple as they had been when I saw him dance with Stella there is joy and
grace there. 

 His movements take him around to face the door and his face lights up
brighter than the sunshine. His arms go out and I find myself in them
without consciously deciding to move. He laughs at me and I pick up the
rhythm. 

 The last time I danced like this it was with Ray Vecchio and I was in
drag. That Ray wasn't a very good dancer - we did better at the disco
steps later on, than at the waltz - but my Ray has me slipping and sliding
to the beat in no time, his talented hips nudging me in the right
direction. He's still smiling at me, singing along to the song; his eyes
dancing and his face glowing with happiness. 

 The music starts again and I pick up the lyrics with him - ridiculous to
be singing of heat in the Northern Territories, but sublimely happy to be
here in his arms. 

 I think I know what this is about. We faced danger today - worked as a
team, used our strengths. He did his job, I did mine and no one got hurt.
We're together, and right now we're pretty unstoppable. Ray's face lights
up even further when he sees that I understand and he shouts a word above
the music that makes my heart and soul soar. 

 "Greatness!" 

 -end- 

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

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