Memories	  Memories

 by Kikala

  

 

 Disclaimer: I don't own them and no copyright infringement is intended.

 Author's Notes: Many thanks to Laura Kaye and Speranza for giving me
feedback and suggestions.

 Story Notes: This story ending just came to me and I could not find it in
me to change it. This is the second time an ending has invaded my head and
made my story go in an unintended direction. 

 

 

 Memories, by Kikala - (2003) 

 It was hard letting him go. 

 Fraser watched as Ray stood there, shifting from foot to foot. He had
calmed down during their adventure; there were times when he seemed almost
tranquil. Here at the airport, though, as he waited for his flight back to
Chicago, the nervous energy had returned. 

 "Well, I guess this is it." 

 "Yes," replied Fraser, "I guess it is." 

 Ray looked down at his feet, "Look Frase, I really liked being up here.
You know, with you . . . and Dief," he added in response to a low whine at
his feet. "Maybe I could come visit again, sometime, I mean if you're not
off chasing some poachers or something like that." 

 Fraser smiled warmly, "You're always welcome, Ray. I've . . . we've had a
great adventure." 

 "Even if we didn't find that hand." 

 "Well, Ray, to be honest, I didn't think we would." 

 Ray laughed, "Yeah, I know. It was fun, though, and I found out I wasn't
a complete city boy after all." 

 Fraser looked serious, "You did very well, Ray. I never had any doubt
that you would. It's been more than fun, more than an adventure. It's been
an experience I'll always remember. I just wish . . ." 

 "Wish what?" Ray eyed Fraser speculatively. 

 Fraser scratched his eyebrow nervously, "I don't know, it's difficult to
put into words." 

 Ray laughed, "You, Mr. Vocabulary, can't find the words to say something?
That's gotta be a first." 

 Fraser cleared his throat, "It's not the words, Ray . . ." 

 Just then they were interrupted by an announcement of the final boarding
of Ray's flight. Reluctantly, Fraser reached out a hand and Ray grabbed
it, pulling Fraser to him, hugging him tightly. He then turned quickly and
walked through the door to his flight. 

 ~~~o0o~~~ 

 It had been 6 years since he'd last set foot in Chicago. The city hadn't
changed much, still full of bustling energy. It had taken longer to get
through Customs, since that terrible day 4 years ago. The world was a
harder place. 

 Fraser felt harder as well, being home in his beloved Territories wasn't
as fulfilling as he thought it would be. There was something missing and
even though Dief kept telling him what it was, he chose not to think those
thoughts, they were inappropriate. He had kept in contact with Ray,
through letters and e-mails, and Ray had even come up to visit him every
year, during the short summer. Those visits always went by so fast, as if
a whirlwind had swept through his cabin, leaving an emptiness in his home
and his heart in its wake. 

 Fraser had gone about his duties, efficient as always, but he missed the
easy laughter and the companionship of his mercurial partner. He even
missed the flashes of temper that were followed by embarrassed contrition.
Sometime during those visits, or in the aftermath of them, Fraser realized
that he had fallen in love with Ray, and that frightened him. 

 Ray had never shown any contempt or disgust toward homosexuals; beneath
his gruff exterior lay a gentle soul, but he had also never shown any
interest in men, as far as Fraser had seen. He was quick to hug, to lay a
comforting hand on a shoulder, touch an arm to get his attention, but had
never made any signs that he loved Fraser in any other sense than a good
friend, a brother. They had spent many nights talking, telling each other
things that they'd never tell anyone else; both knowing that they could
trust the other implicitly. Fraser would do anything to protect that
special bond, even bury his own newly-awakened needs. 

 ~~~o0o~~~ 

 Fraser let the precious memories of the time spent with Ray fill his
thoughts when he was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his
throat. 

 Welsh looked apologetic, "It's time." 

 "Yes, of course," replied Fraser, rising to take his place in front of a
somber Jack Huey. He looked down briefly at the flag covering the casket
of his closest friend, the man he had come to love more than life itself,
and blinked back the tears. Ray would laugh if he saw him crying at his
funeral. He always said he wanted a party with all the mourners getting
blind drunk and singing songs. 

 In the end it was an accident that took the life of his friend, no heroic
act of bravery in the line of duty. His car, his beloved GTO, had been hit
from behind by a drunk driver. Mort sat vigil in the much-feared morgue
with Ray's body until his father could come and claim his son. His father
looked as if he had aged 30 years, having lost Ray's mother earlier in the
year. 

 As the casket was lowered into the freshly dug grave, Fraser closed his
eyes and allowed his mind to wander again. He saw Ray's brilliant grin,
heard his burst of joyous laughter and imagined he felt Ray's hand on his
shoulder, one last time, squeezing goodbye. 

End Memories by Kikala: kikala@earthlink.net

Author and story notes above.