Come Undone	    

Disclaimer and Notes: Fraser and Kowalski and the rest from dueSouth
aren't mine; they belong to Alliance, but they've been wandering through
Stonyland for a while now, and it just might take them a while to wander
on back. :-) No profit made, no harm meant. This is set after CoTW and is
the sequel to Never Pick Up A Hitchhiker. It will make a heck of a lot
more sense if you read that one first. Thanks to Rhiannon Shaw and Misha
for the beta. Thanks also to Michelle Lellouche for the final validations.
This story has been revised slightly since its first posting. 

Comments and constructive criticism adored at wenchita@gmail.com.  

Spoilers: Mild ones for CoTW, Seeing Is Believing. 

Warnings: R for language, implied violence, adult situations, m/m (slash).
  Come Undone by Alice in Stonyland The Mad Season #2  

"i need you now
 do you think you can cope
 you figured me out -- i'm lost and i'm hopeless
 bleeding and broken -- though i've never spoken
 i come undone -- in this mad season" 

-- matchbox twenty, "mad season" 

 

I waited until I couldn't hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway
anymore, then closed my eyes. I didn't have to be a detective to know I
hurt -- a lot -- and it was pretty amazing my eyes weren't running. I had
something to prove to myself, but all I could think of was that I'd
failed. Again. Maybe that was just the tired talking, maybe I was reacting
too much because of everything that's happened to me, but I figured I'd
probably just fucked up another partnership. Literally. 

I'd gotten so good at pretending that I was this really confident guy,
sometimes I even fooled myself. Being around Fraser had been the one thing
that had me believing that I was a confident guy on the inside too, and I
hadn't felt this way since before I'd met him. Now he and I weren't
together, and the emptiness was creeping back in. Getting off was the only
thing that seemed to help fill that space, but it didn't last long. Who
woulda thought Vecchio would let me blow him? I thought for sure he was
going to refuse, tell me that I was over the line, something, anything.
Sometimes my instincts for a situation get me into more trouble than
they're worth, and I was half-wishing I hadn't let them take control. 

I was supposed to work with Vecchio on Monday. Supposed to be a good cop.
Good cops don't blow their partners, don't fuck them, and they don't even
think about it. Especially if their partner was the same sex. I'd already
crossed that line, but I knew Vecchio couldn't say anything without
revealing he bent that way. Code of silence? Oh yeah, and as sick of
secrets and lying and pretending as I was, I was grateful for it. 

I thought I had everything covered. I couldn't look at the sofa without
remembering how much I wanted to touch Vecchio again. Vecchio, mind you,
not Fraser, and wasn't that a crock considering how far I'd go for Fraser?


I swallowed the taste of that and let it sit with the rest of my list of
failures. I didn't bother looking at myself in the mirror as I stripped
off my clothes and took a shower. The bruises and the scars were old
friends of mine now, but the hot water and soap felt really good on my
skin. I almost didn't want to leave the shower, but the water started
running cold, and I'd had enough of that. 

If I just concentrated on not thinking, I knew I could get through this.
Go through the motions, just pretend that I didn't get off on Vecchio
fucking my face. Yeah, I knew I was screwed, but I didn't want to admit
it. Admitting it meant I was gonna lose whatever control I had left.  

I wish I could say that I don't remember what happened in Canada. The
problem is, I do, at least what happened afterwards, and I woulda thought
Fraser was-- 

No. Not going to think about this. 

Monday seemed like a long way away. 

I needed a pack of cigarettes and a case of beer. It was going to be a
long weekend; I didn't expect Vecchio to come looking for me until Monday.
He was going to need tomorrow to figure out what the hell he was going to
do about what we did. I had to chuckle at that thought. Wonder if he's
going to go to confession over a blowjob? 

Not that I really wanted to know. I didn't deserve the answer anyway; I
knew I'd been used. Hell, I knew I'd used him. 

I couldn't help thinking, though, that maybe I should've just kept right
on walking instead of getting in his car. Maybe I should've just told him
what he wanted to know, instead of daring him, instead of distracting us
both.  

My mind flashed on a memory of leather and pain, and instinctively, I
shivered. Furiously, I clamped down hard on the memory before it could
become a full-blown Kodak postcard, but I didn't act fast enough, and this
time, Fraser wasn't around to hold me while I screamed silently. Thinking
of him, how he'd tried to comfort me, only made the pain worse. I'd wanted
him, but now... now all I knew for sure was that he'd still be there for
me, and I wished to God I didn't know the things I did now.  

Two months ago, we traveled to visit Maggie MacKenzie, Fraser's
half-sister. Maggie was pretty cool, and I knew I had a snowball's chance
in hell of ever making it with her. For one thing, she was Fraser's
sister. That pretty much ruled out everything else. Like I told her back
in Chicago, I had a better chance of being with her when I didn't know who
she was related to. Never mind that who she was related to was who I was
really interested in; he was oblivious to that, and I was determined to
keep it that way. At least, for now. I figured I had all the time in the
world to get up the courage to tell him. Still, it was fun flirting with
Maggie; she flirted right back and teased her brother mercilessly for
taking us serious.  

Maggie was stationed in one of those unpronounceable Canadian towns,
shuffling paperwork and wasting her talent. It didn't take a rookie to
figure out she'd gotten punished for going AWOL to track down her
husband's killer in Chicago. She seemed okay with it, though I overheard
her telling Fraser that at least she hadn't been exiled to some foreign
post where he'd had to practically save the country before the RCMP wised
up and realized what kind of guy they had in Fraser. He'd been pretty
upset by that remark. She'd immediately apologized for her words and gone
on to reassure him how great it was that he would be back in the country
and only a few hours' drive away. 

That had made me remember how soon I was supposed to be leaving. Welsh had
called me a week ago on my cell phone, reminding me I was due back soon,
and asking me if Fraser would be coming with me. I lied and said I didn't
know. I didn't really want to think about it, if you wanna know the truth.
It had been bittersweet heaven just to run around with him, looking for
the Hand of Franklin, which had somehow turned into the usual
Fraser-and-me-chasing-criminals-over-God-knows-everywhere. At least, with
Fraser, I had the feeling of not being a complete and utter fuck-up. When
I was with him, I was a screw-up who'd learned how to survive in the one
place that he'd said Vecchio hated. Maybe that's grade school of me, but
I'd figured out that Fraser cared a lot for Vecchio. Some part of me was
jealous at that even while I was glad to take over Vecchio's life. As
corny as it sounds, I learned to love Canada. Love the country, love the
man, or something like that, right? Only it didn't work the way I wanted. 

A few days into our visit, Fraser was summoned to his new post. Seemed
they had a problem that required his expertise and wanted him to report
back to work early. I wanted to go, but apparently, there was a screw-up
with the paperwork for Fraser's housing, and he'd been allocated a bunk in
the station, nothing more. I had two choices: stay with Maggie and spend
some time with her, knowing that Fraser wasn't far away, or go back home a
full two months before I was ready. I chose to stay with Maggie; the small
city where she'd been posted was a welcome change from the open wilderness
that had been Fraser's and my home. It wasn't Chicago, but after all the
little rinky-dink towns we'd stopped in for supplies along the way, it
came pretty damn close. 

Fraser had been gone sixteen days (not that I was counting), and I was
starting to get worried because he hadn't called yet to say what was going
on. I was too used to knowing what was happening with him, and it bothered
me that I didn't. Maggie picked up on that and decided to try and distract
me by inviting me to dance with her at a local club. What the hell, it
wasn't like she was a frog and couldn't carry a conversation worth a
nickel. Far from it. Guess it's all those Fraser genes that makes them
beautiful. Unlike her brother, though, she had long blond hair and light
green eyes and stood about five inches shorter. She kinda reminded me of a
princess in a Disney movie, except this princess was a Mountie, and a
Fraser at that. Okay, so it was only on her father's side, but put her and
her brother together working on something, and you wouldn't think half of
anything. Plus, she was easy to talk to -- some ways, a lot easier than
Fraser, but Fraser's a guy, and I'd figured out he sometimes went on and
on about something just so you'd get lost and forget what it was you
wanted to know. 

Anyway, Maggie got off work about six and changed out of her uniform into
jeans and a denim shirt. I was kinda surprised by her clothes; Stella
always insisted on wearing the right designer dress for wherever we were
going, and this wasn't what I'd expected. I had to chuckle at myself when
I realized I'd also gotten used to Frannie's constant attempts to impress
Fraser by what she wore. Then again, I'd half expected Maggie to keep
wearing her uniform. Like her brother, she wore serge like it was a second
skin, and it was hard keeping my eyes in my head when she wore something
else. She kept the Stetson and the boots, though. 

I had to admit, I was glad she hadn't dressed up. What I had was jeans,
sweaters, or T-shirts, and I didn't wanna look for something fancy, 'cause
that kind of stuff really isn't me. I mean, jacket, straitjacket -- ain't
that much difference to me. I soon found out why she'd chosen jeans. Even
as I stepped out of Maggie's car, I could hear the sound of country music
spilling out of the open club door. As we arrived, the dance floor was
starting to fill up with people. I was glad that I'd checked that scene
out and had picked up a few moves, so it wasn't completely unfamiliar. 

We danced to a few songs and got some drinks when Maggie ran into a guy
she knew. I hung around a bit, long enough to figure out that I was the
third wheel yet again, and excused myself to hang out at the bar on the
other side of the club. I wasn't in any rush to go anywhere or do
anything; I knew Maggie wouldn't leave without at least trying to find me
and let me know where she was going. After being out in the boonies for
most of the last four months, it felt kinda weird, but good, to be in
civilization. Even if it meant that right now, I was thinking about
Fraser, and hating myself for not being able to just let go. I was getting
more depressed by the minute, especially when I'd sometimes catch sight of
Maggie dancing with her friend, and think about how I wished I could hold
Fraser that close. Or even closer, with no one else around, and.... 

I told my dick to shut up and let me drink my beer in peace.  

I must've been there a few minutes when a pretty brunette walked up and
took the seat next to me. Even in the shadowed light of the bar, I could
tell she had honey-gold skin, the kind that wasn't from a suntan. She had
a girl-next-door look to her, if the girl next door had been Vanessa
Williams. She had on a white tank top that revealed a hell of a lot of
cleavage and dark jeans with high-heeled boots. A thin gold band circled
her upper right arm, gleaming in the light of the bar as she requested a
Long Island iced tea. She turned to me then and grinned. 

I knew I'd been caught staring, and that she wasn't taking offense at it.
My hope meter went up two notches. 

"May I get you anything?" 

I smiled back and gestured to my mug, which was half-full. "I'm all right,
thanks," I told her. "But you can keep me company if you like." 

Her grin grew wider. The bartender brought over her drink and she paid
him, tipping him a dollar for his trouble, before I could even offer to do
so. "I'd like that," she told me. "I'm Jill, and you are?" 

"Ray," I told her.  

"You're not from around here, are you?" 

I had to laugh at the predictability of that; I told Fraser once I oughta
just wear a shirt that said what I told Jill now: "No, I'm from Chicago." 

"Chicago, eh? I've never been in America -- but you've probably heard that
a lot, if you've been here a while." 

I chuckled, and decided I liked her. I'm not sure how long we talked, but
I felt really relaxed with her. I know we danced and had at least another
round of drinks. I remember Maggie telling me that she was leaving, and me
telling her that I wasn't ready to go yet, that I'd find a cab home. 

"Are you sure of this?" she asked me. 

"Sure I'm sure," I told her, smiling my second-best "trust me, I know what
I'm doing" smile. It didn't always work on Fraser, but apparently, it was
good enough for Maggie. "I got your address, I know how to call a cab, and
I even got some funny colored money." I pulled out a twenty from my pocket
and flashed it at Maggie. 

"Ray, Canadian money is perfectly legal tender," she reminded me. 

"Still looks funny to me," I insisted, shoving the Canadian dollar bill
back in my pants. The way Maggie spoke set off a sharp ache within me,
reminding me that she was Fraser's sister, and I had to take a quick
breath to settle the longing for Fraser I felt. For a moment, I thought
about leaving with Maggie. Just being around her, though, hearing and
seeing how similar she was to her brother, was slow torture. Maybe that
was what settled it for me; I was tired of feeling like I wanted something
I couldn't have, and Jill seemed willing enough.  

Maggie hugged me, which didn't strike me as being unusual until later and
told me to be careful. I laughed and told her not worry. I was a cop.
Okay, I was a cop in Chicago, and I wasn't in Chicago now, but I wasn't
off the force just yet, and it had to count for something. 

Apparently, Maggie decided to let it ride for now. "Good night, Ray," she
bid me. Impulsively, I hugged her, and grinned at her surprise at having
her affection returned. I watched Maggie leave, then turned to find Jill. 

Jill, however, was gone. Apparently, she'd taken the opportunity I'd given
her when Maggie found me. I swore softly, telling myself it wasn't much of
shock, even though we had spent most of the evening together. Not wanting
to look foolish after I'd insisted on staying, I hung around a while
longer, then started walking back to Maggie's house. 

Ten minutes away from the club, I realized I'd been hanging around Frasers
too long when walking anywhere made perfect sense, especially when a
perfectly good cab passed me by. The night was humid, and the sky dark
with clouds. The town seemed crowded after all the nights I'd spent out in
the open, and I had to laugh at myself. 

God, what was I going to do if I couldn't handle being in a city anymore?
This wasn't Chicago, and already I was like Fraser, thinking about where I
could see the stars and the sky. I hated feeling like the best part of me
was someone else, somewhere else. Somewhere in my head, I knew I was
perfectly capable of living without Fraser, but the rest of me refused to
accept it. Yeah, so I'm pathetic; even I pity me.  

Without thinking about it, I crossed my arms as I paused, waiting for the
light to change so I could cross the street. As I did so, I glanced at my
watch, figuring out I had maybe another twenty minutes of walking to go if
I wanted to keep up the pace I'd been taking. I didn't see any taxis
around, and a quick check of my pocket confirmed I'd spent my last twenty
dollars.  

Not that spending it had helped me get laid, I thought, sighing
resignedly. I shrugged, too used to not getting any now to get upset at
the fact. I wondered if Vecchio had ever gotten laid with the Mountie
around as babe magnet, then wondered why I was even thinking of either of
them. Thinking of Fraser only made me feel like a dog that's been kicked
one too many times, and I hated that.  

As much as I knew and had figured out about Vecchio, I wasn't sure how
things were going to work with us being partners. The duet Fraser and me
had built was everything to me, especially after we'd had that big fight
right before the Henry Allen. Losing it scared me more than I wanted to
think about, and what if Vecchio and I couldn't work together? The only
time we'd tried it, Vecchio had ended up shot. I didn't think that was
going to happen again, least I hoped it wouldn't, but I could only guess
what was going to happen. It wasn't going to be like when I'd walked into
Vecchio's life, with everybody telling me I had Mr. Dudley Do-Right as an
unofficial partner. I was going to be Kowalski again, and I wasn't sure
who that was. Up here, at least I was still part of a duet, still Fraser's
buddy, and I knew what to expect. I knew Vecchio'd been a good cop, and I
wasn't sure if I could measure up. I wasn't Fraser, for chrissake. How the
hell were we going to deal with that? Even if my hunch about Vecchio was
wrong, I wasn't feeling too happy about the whole thing, and I was already
leaning toward feeling like crap. 

The last thing I remember clearly about that night is wondering how
Vecchio would react when I told him his new partner was just as in love
with Fraser as he had been. 

***** 

Though I knew, as a member of the RCMP, my leave time was subject to
revocation without notice, I had calculated that I had enough time accrued
to cover the six months I'd requested. Lt. Welsh had been generous in
granting Ray that much administrative leave, but as I suspected he faced
losing a good officer versus the chance that Ray would return to the force
eventually, I understood his decision. Still, I was aware that two months
remained on that deadline, and my having to report to duty earlier than
either Ray or I had planned would change things. 

I knew we had to talk soon about our friendship. My greatest fear was what
would happen when the time arrived when Ray had to return to Chicago or
lose his job. In the best of situations, Ray was fearless. In the worst,
Ray was sometimes altogether too willing to risk his life, believing he
had nothing for which to live. His self-confidence had improved greatly
since I first met him, especially over the last four months, but I
suspected he saw the improvement as being tied to my presence in his life.
I did not want to contemplate what he would do if it was abruptly removed,
and was rather glad that my recall to duty happened while we were visiting
my sister. 

As the RCMP was not aware that I had any dependents save for Diefenbaker,
I was assigned single-man quarters in the barracks at the post that would
serve as my temporary duty station. Naturally, that meant Ray could not
join me. His initial reaction of angry disbelief had puzzled me at first,
as it hadn't seemed wholly justified. Then he'd calmed down and apologized
for overreacting. I put his outburst down to a mild case of separation
anxiety, aware that we had been together all the time since the resolution
of the Muldoon case. I knew, however, that I could not leave Ray alone. He
was not ready to leave Canada, and I did not want him to go just yet.  

I'm not entirely certain what happened when he agreed to go adventuring
with me. Perhaps that is my fault, that I became blind to his growing
dependence on me, that I took advantage of his trust and affection for me
to find solace for my own grief. You see, as long as I knew my father
still haunted me, I didn't think he was truly gone. Knowing that he
was...all I could think of was that I needed the space to understand it,
to come to terms with it, and having Ray around would help. 

That he was interested in more than friendship with me didn't cross my
mind then. I suppose, had I been looking for clues, that I would have
noticed the signs of his attraction. I hadn't been, however, and felt
grateful that his friendship for me ran so deeply. It was only when I
began my new duties that I realized I missed him, and began exploring the
reasons why. 

Ray was not an easy man to deal with; he could be mercurial in his moods,
given to bouts of self-doubt and self-blame. Similarly, however, he was
deeply passionate about the things which interested him, sometimes to an
extreme. He was not what I would have expected, had I been warned of Ray
Vecchio's undercover assignment. Still, I could not deny that what I felt
was more than simple friendship. 

Perhaps, I decided, what I feel for Ray Kowalski was best expressed
through action, and not words. I wasn't sure how well those actions, were
I to take them, would be received. I suppose in a way, I was more afraid
of the consequences than the reception. Even assuming that I was right in
presuming that my interpretation of Ray's willingness to suspend his life
in Chicago to spend time with me is correct, I feared that Ray would want
more than I was prepared to give. 

The one thing I cannot give -- my heart -- was the one thing I suspected
Ray wanted. No, it was best that I remained silent, and do nothing. At
least, that's what I chose to believe then. It was simpler to pretend
ignorance, to let things be as they were. I was certain that Ray would
wait for me, would always be there for me, would understand even if my own
emotions weren't clear. Strong emotions have proven to be my downfall,
even if the actions were justified at the time: my grief over my father's
death, my guilt and love for Victoria. I didn't understand then that
keeping my heart locked away could be just as devastating as if I'd shared
it -- or chose the wrong moment to make it known.  

Maybe I should have spoken sooner, maybe I took it for granted that Ray
was, as he'd once told me, "Mr. Intuition", maybe a thousand what-ifs
scenarios that never happened. The events that led to Ray's return to
Chicago will remain imprinted on my memory for a long time. 

Hindsight, as Diefenbaker has reminded me on multiple occasions, is always
twenty-twenty. Realistically, there was little I could have done to
prevent what happened to Ray. Some other tragedy could have just as easily
befallen him, something which might have fatally wounded him. Still, I
could not suppress the shudder that ran through me as I remembered
Maggie's frantic call to me, and the search we conducted shortly
thereafter. 

***** 

"Maggie?" I called down the hallway, stepping cautiously through the
ill-kept house. 

"In the bedroom, Benton," my sister returned. "It's not pretty," she
cautioned. 

My chest tightened in response to that warning. It had been five days
since Ray had gone missing while staying with Maggie, and I was prepared
for the worst. "Understood," I replied, moving into the bedroom. 

At first, I didn't see where she was. The midnight blue silk of the duvet
blended with the jeans and dark plaid shirt she'd worn, concealing her in
the shadows of the bedroom. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the
deeper gloom, and I noted that the two windows had been draped with heavy
fabric, concealing the afternoon sunlight. As I approached, I saw that she
leaned over a barely recognizable Ray, unlocking him from the cuffs that
kept him bound to the bed. 

He was nude, and even in the half-light, I could tell that he'd been
beaten severely. He was so still, the fear that he was dead flashed
through my mind. 

"He's alive," Maggie assured me, answering my unspoken question. "He's out
cold, though. Either unconscious or drugged or both. From what I can tell,
there are no broken bones, but the bruising is quite severe, and his pulse
is weak." 

A breath shuddered through me, but I did not dwell on my relief for long.
Ray was still injured, and we had to get him to a hospital. I was grateful
that Maggie had been assigned to a more cosmopolitan area than I; it meant
that medical help was not far away. Even as I acknowledged that fact,
another sprung to mind: if she hadn't been assigned to this small city,
Ray wouldn't have been hurt, wouldn't have been in a place where
temptation and danger mingled.	

It is, of course, highly selfish of me to believe that he would not have
found someone. Ray is a natural flirt, and we had been largely by
ourselves in the wilderness, save for the occasional criminal we
apprehended in the course of our vacation. I remembered clearly his
comment to me that, unlike me, he at least appeared to be thinking about
sex, balanced by his belief that he did not think love at first sight
existed. In a way, I suppose I was prepared to accept his involvement with
Maggie, and to a certain degree, encouraged such. 

The last thing I had considered was that he might have chosen to look
elsewhere for companionship. I didn't want to believe that he might have
chosen this kind of company, but I couldn't rule out the possibility with
absolute certainty. Beyond the facts that he loved Stella, flirted with
women, and had seemed to be perfectly happy to be with me, I knew nothing
of his sexual preferences. 

Looking at Ray now, I could only wonder how he'd gotten himself into this
situation, and then immediately told myself I was being unfair for
assuming that he'd been a willing party to it. I couldn't see him choosing
to be bound and naked, yet my mind refused to completely shunt that
possibility aside. I was filled by a need to know that went beyond a need
for evidence in a criminal investigation. 

It is one of the few times in my life I wish I had left things be. 

**** 

I felt, more than heard, Fraser step onto the small balcony of Maggie's
apartment, where I'd been smoking a cigarette. I hadn't smoked a cigarette
since Stella and I had broken up, and the nicotine was making my head
dizzy. It was something, though, something I could focus on, something I
understood, something more than the bruises and pain and flashes of memory
that had been all I'd been able to think of in the last few days. I never
understood how it felt to be in this uncertain shade of... gray, I have to
call it, for lack of a better word. Now all I can think of how much I wish
I didn't feel this way. It's been a week since Maggie and Fraser found me.
They've been walking carefully around me ever since. I knew they didn't
deserve to catch all of my anger, but I hate feeling helpless and afraid,
especially when I woke up in the middle of the night screaming and unable
to cope with whatever I'd been dreaming. Having Fraser hold me while I was
half out of my mind wasn't on my list of fantasies, that's for damn sure. 

Before Fraser could comment on my new habit, I crushed out the cigarette.
The last thing I wanted was a lecture on the perils of smoking, especially
since hearing from Fraser on something like that made me feel like I was
eleven years old all over again. 

"Ah, thank you kindly, Ray. I must comment, though, that I thought you
were not a smoker." 

I heard the reprimand in his tone and felt guilty, as I suspected he
intended. "I wasn't," I told him now, my voice a challenge. I didn't turn
to face him, staring out instead at the trees that veiled the apartment
complex from the road. Damn, he could make me confess all my sins, just by
being the kind of guy you didn't lie to, because honesty was something he
valued in his friends. I sighed impatiently and corrected myself. "Okay, I
used to be, got a problem with that?" 

"No, I don't, Ray," Fraser answered patiently. He paused, took a deep
breath, and exhaled. I could almost see his fingers rising to rub an
eyebrow in an unconscious reflection at his frustration with me and smiled
bitterly at the nearly instinctive wish that his fingers would be rubbing
something else instead. "About what happened --" 

"I don't wanna talk about it." I wasn't sure if I could talk about it to
Fraser, if you wanna know the truth. How could I explain that what I
couldn't remember clearly? That, at some point, I remember saying yes and
not no? Bits and pieces of the truth flashed through a gray fog of memory,
and I couldn't tell what had been real and what hadn't been. I felt hollow
inside, and more than a little unclean by it all. Hell, the wonder was
that the only vice I'd taken up was smoking, instead of something worse. 

"Ray, I'm simply trying to understand how you ended up in that house." 

"I told you, I don't wanna talk about it. It's over. Done." Yeah, like I
really wanted to rehash the whole date-rape scenario when I wasn't having
a flashback about it. It was bad enough I'd suspected Jill slipped
something into my beer; I didn't know how else to explain the Rohypo stuff
the doctors found in my system. 

I turned now to face him. As always, seeing him out of uniform sent
shivers of longing zipping through my body, and the way he looked in jeans
and a red plaid flannel shirt with its sleeves neatly rolled up past his
elbows was still one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen. I didn't want to
think about what it would be like to see him naked. As it was, I lit
another cigarette, forgetting I didn't want his lecture, and took a quick
drag, trying to calm myself before I revealed too much. Some part of me
took comfort in knowing I still could be turned on by him, because I had a
nasty suspicion a woman would never again arouse me like that again. 

He frowned and waved off the smoke that curled around me, even though I'd
taken care to exhale with my head turned aside so I wasn't blowing it in
his face.  

"Ray, I do hope you realize you can tell me anything. I realize this is on
the level of being highly personal, but if it helps apprehend --" 

Angrily, I stomped out my cigarette, the sound of my foot startling Fraser
into silence. Why was it so important to him? I wondered impatiently. "I
don't remember, Fraser. What are you going to do about it? Hypnotize me so
you can pry it out of my brain?" Couldn't he see that I just wanted it
over with, that if was anyone other than me as the victim, I'd be just as
gung-ho to find the sicko who did it? I was gonna be leaving here anyway,
and I didn't want anyone else to know I hadn't been able to protect
myself. I didn't see the point. 

"Actually, Ray, as you may recall me telling you before, hypnotism can be
an effective means of conducting an investigation. It did help us find the
fourth man during the --" 

"Fraser, I don't care, " I interrupted. I knew he wouldn't buy it, but I
had to try anyway. I could fool nearly everyone who didn't know the truth
into believing I was Ray Vecchio, bluff my way to win my fair share of
poker games with the guys, but Fraser could read my face like a book. Made
me wonder if he'd done the same to the real Ray Vecchio. 

"Ray, I don't believe you," he countered, right on cue. "On the contrary,
I believe you care very deeply."  

He wasn't much for touching, 'cept when I was screaming my head off in a
nightmare, so I was surprised when he reached for me. Startled, I jerked
back. The look on his face trapped me. It wasn't often I saw his face like
this, so open and unreserved. I almost missed his words for the panic
roaring in my ears.  

"As do I," Fraser declared softly.  

"What the hell do you mean by that?" I demanded, reacting instinctively.
Everything I wanted was just close enough to grab, and it felt wrong
somehow. I didn't like that feeling. "What, you just figure this out? What
you gonna do, Frase, offer yourself to me?" 

He looked at me. "If that's what you need, Ray." 

"Need? Fuck, Fraser, I don't want it like that," I exploded, shaking off
his arm.  

"Ray--" 

"No, Fraser, don't. You never let me touch you before, and now you want me
to accept it out of pity? That's so wrong." 

"I don't mean it that way, Ray." 

"Oh, so how do you mean it, Fraser?" 

"You obviously went through a terrible ordeal, and whoever hurt you should
be punished. I thought perhaps you would like --" 

"What? A hug? A date with a shrink? You gonna kiss me and make me feel all
better?" I could hear my voice rising, felt the anger swell inside me.	

"Ray, you're being ridiculous," Fraser said sharply. "If you'd let me
explain, you'd understand what I'm attempting to do." 

"Why?" I knew I was lashing out, but I suddenly couldn't stand the
rejection I sensed was coming, the conditions that he was giving.
"Everything with you's got strings." 

"Not everything." 

"No? You'll be my partner, but you won't carry a gun. You'll be my lover,
but you won't let me touch you. I gotta get beat up and raped and lost for
five days, and then you'll think about maybe fucking me?" 

"Ray, you're twisting the truth to suit your purposes," Fraser observed
quietly, not backing down, taking my anger like he always did, like
nothing could ever ruffle his feathers. "You said just this morning that
you didn't remember clearly what happened to you." 

I snorted, and took another drag on my cigarette. "Oh, so are you saying I
like getting tied up and fucked? You sayin' you want it rough?" I couldn't
believe what the hell I was saying, but it was too late to take the words
back, and I was just mad enough to not care. 

"No, Ray. That's not what I'm trying to say." He snagged the cigarette out
of my mouth before I could protest and put it out, his eyes disapproving. 

God, I hated that look. Something was telling me I was going to regret
this night before it was over, and it was one more damned thing on top of
Fraser making me feel like I was a scrawny kid all over again that was
pissing me off. "Oh, so enlighten me, O Wise One."  

"I have come to the realization that while I am not sure about love and
the mysteries of where my heart lies, in the romantic sense of the phrase
that is, I do know who I care about, and --" 

I stopped listening right at that point. "Fuck that, Fraser," I declared,
interrupting him. "I don't care anymore." 

"You're being unreasonable, Ray." 

"Unreasonable? Make up your mind, Fraser. You gonna pass, play, or fold?" 

"This isn't a poker game, Ray." 

"No?" I practically yelled it. "Then what the fuck do you want me to do?" 

The patio door opened then and I looked past Fraser to see Maggie standing
there. "Ray? Benton? Is everything all right? I heard your voices through
the glass, though I couldn't make out what you were saying." 

I couldn't look at her, couldn't look back. I had the urge to hit
something, and I had to burn off the anger and the hurt before I did
something I'd regret. I stepped around her and headed quickly out of the
house. I half-expected Fraser to follow, and when I realized he wasn't,
that pretty much settled everything for me. 

It was late when I got back. I was tired now more than anything, and the
hurt I felt had settled into a dull, throbbing ache. I still wasn't one
hundred percent back, what with all the bruising I had, but I was damned
if I was going to let it slow me down. I wasn't in the mood to talk to
anyone; all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there until I
figured out what the hell to do next. Unfortunately, Maggie had other
ideas. 

She was waiting for me in my room, and stopped my protest before I could
voice it. She just opened her arms and hugged me, and I nearly broke down
in tears at the sweetness of the unexpected gesture. My emotions were too
close to the surface now. Suddenly, it seemed as though all the crap I'd
been through in the last few days came crashing down on me, and I couldn't
hold back anymore. 

Maggie guided me back to the bed, holding me as if I was a little kid. She
said nothing, gave me no reassurances that everything would be okay in the
morning. Both of us knew better. Long after my tears were spent, she
continued to hold me. I felt like I'd poured out my pain in long,
bone-wracking sobs, until the only thing left was a shell of me. I was
naked, exposed. 

I didn't belong here. 

I didn't want to be here. 

Not when whoever the hell did whatever it was they did to me was still
running around, and I didn't even have the luxury of thinking that as long
as Fraser was with me, I could overcome that. All I could think of was how
he'd made a mockery of what should've been, and how I couldn't even stay
mad at him for it. 

I had to leave before I lost myself.  

The thought that haunted me was that maybe I was already too late. 

**** 

Maggie was waiting at the door as I walked up. I wasn't surprised to see
her; trying to sneak anything past a Mountie, especially a Mountie who was
born with Fraser genes for super-hearing, is like trying to sneak donuts
past Diefenbaker. It just doesn't work. I half-smiled as I thought of how
Maggie looked, guarding the exit as the furball would've done, if he'd
been here. My smile faded, though, as I remembered how she'd held me close
the night before. The emptiness she'd unsuccessfully kept at bay rose now
to nearly choke me, and I swallowed hard. 

"I wish you wouldn't leave like this," Maggie stated quietly. 

I gave her a tired smile. "I have a job and a life in Chicago," I reminded
her. 

"You love him." She hesitated even as I narrowed my eyes at her
perceptiveness, then exhaled quickly. "I would've said you're a gambling
man, Ray." 

"I lost that bet a long time ago, Maggie. I'll never have your brother's
heart; he doesn't know where it is and he's not exactly certain if he can
give it freely." I heard the mocking slant my voice gave his words, and
watched Maggie's face twist in comprehension. "Besides, I'd have to stand
in line, even if I had a chance; Vecchio knew him before I did. I was just
filling in for Vecchio." I grinned, amused by the irony. "Might as well
have gone all the way with the pretense, you know? Vecchio loved Fraser, I
was Vecchio." I shrugged, trying to tell her I didn't care anymore about
that. I doubted that she bought it, and in a way, I didn't care. I just
wanted to get going. Even if I had to walk back to Chicago, I was going.
"Look, Maggie, I owe you for rescuing me, but I'm due back in Chicago in a
week and a half, and I...I just can't stay here any longer." 

"Benton will be back this afternoon. You should wait, talk to him. He'll
be back in a while; he just went to walk Diefenbaker." 

"That's just it, Maggie. I'm not needed here. He doesn't need me for
anything, not even for a walk with the wolf." 

She stared at me for a long minute, then sighed resignedly. "Call me when
you get home, please?" 

"Sure," I promised easily.  

Then she did something that surprised me. She reached for the Stetson that
rested on the side table by the door and handed it to me. "If I wasn't
shorter than you, I'd set this on your head," she told me. "It's yours
now." 

Blinking past the sudden rush of tears, I found myself oddly grateful that
she hadn't lied and said it was Fraser's. I knew it was her own, likely a
spare, but still... I knew what it meant to her. I bent down to kiss her
cheek and hug her, careful not to crush my new gift. "Thanks, Maggie. I
know what this means to you." 

"It's Benton's. He wanted you to have it." 

Startled, I drew back. "Maggie, you don't have to lie." 

"I'm not," she argued quietly. "He wanted you to have it." 

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes briefly, needing to break the eye
contact. Fraser had known I was leaving without saying a word, and he was
letting me walk away. I couldn't have Fraser, but I could have the sacred
Stetson, and that idea was messing with my brain something fierce.
Suddenly, all I could think of was how I had to get to Vecchio, and maybe
between the two of us we could figure what the hell Fraser's gift meant. I
took a deep breath, and walked to the nearest bus stop. 

It had taken me most of the week to get back to Chicago, between all the
bus transfers and detours I'd had to take; where Maggie lived wasn't close
to a major airport, and I'd gotten sidetracked trying to get to the
closest one. I'd gotten frustrated enough that I'd decided just to walk on
home, and that's how I'd ended up hitchhiking. Yeah, I'd known how
dangerous it was, and how illegal it was, but I guess some part of me was
hoping for the adrenaline rush, for something to prove I wasn't just a
mess of nightmares and broken hopes. I stared up at the ceiling now,
trying to breathe, knowing I had to calm myself down because there was no
one else around to do it. Slowly, I got myself kinda under control again,
reminding myself that no one here knew what happened in Canada, and if I
was lucky, I could keep it that way. 

Yeah. 

Right. 

Like Vecchio wouldn't wanna know more. Wouldn't be poking around, trying
to figure it out like the detective he was. My only consolation was hoping
that he didn't know how to get a hold of Fraser. I almost picked up the
phone to call Vecchio, to tell him, but I was scared of making things
worse than they already were. If I said nothing, maybe we'd be able to
pretend it meant nothing. I could walk into the station on Monday and
pretend I was just glad to be back, that me and him could be partners and
work together and that was it. 

I didn't want it to be like that. 

Swearing, I picked myself up and headed for the store. Monday would be
here soon enough, and I had exactly twenty-four hours to figure out what
the hell I was going to do with my fucked-up life. 

*** Finis **** 

August 3, 2000; revised October 23, 2000 Alice in Stonyland Comments and
constructive criticism welcome anytime. :-)