I give up - it's a series. If you're coming to this without reading the
others - I'd recommend going back and starting at the beginning. 1)The
Mask Slips 2)Seeking (&) Understanding 3)Fast Friendship 4)Staying Power
and 5) - you're here.  

Very mild slash warning - for implications only.   

 Mild spoilers for Dead Guy Running, Ladies Man and Good for the Soul. The
characters (except for Dr. Jack Leighton) belong to Alliance (who really
oughta be doing something with them!)	

Thank you (yet again) to Mary Ann and Sarah. Your encouragement and
comments are, as always, most appreciated - and Mary Ann - thanks for a
truly wonderful idea!!!! Any errors, of course, remain mine.  

Love is the voice under all silences 

e.e. cummings Gift of Fate  

His first clue was the squealing of tires. He looked up and saw the
headlights coming straight toward him. He yanked his steering wheel, hard,
trying to avoid the oncoming truck; trying to find somewhere - anywhere -
else to be. The headlights continued in. He yelled, "No!" as if that would
stop the inevitable. The headlights kept coming. The impact almost seemed
to be in slow motion. The car was pushed sideways, into a pole. He felt
pain in his side and arm as they came in contact with the driver's side
door, shoved inwards by the pole. The windshield exploded under the
stress, covering him with glass. But, mostly he was aware of the blood. It
was everywhere. And he couldn't stop it.  

The phone rang, waking Fraser out of a sound sleep. He looked over at his
clock. 1 a.m. Swinging his legs over the side of the cot, he accidentally
kicked Diefenbaker. The wolf grumbled at him as he reached for the phone.
Picking it up, he answered automatically, "Good morning. Canadian Con ..."
 

"Frase?" the voice interrupted. 

"Ray? What's wrong?" the Mountie was immediately alarmed by the tone of
his friend's voice. 

"There was ... I ... we ...." Ray was stumbling badly. 

"Ray, where are you?" 

"County General ER." 

"I'm on my way. Stay there, all right? Promise me you'll wait." 

"Okay," the blond whispered. Fraser hung up and scrambled for his
clothing, trying to reassure himself with the fact that Ray had placed the
call himself, so whatever it was, it couldn't be that serious.	

He rushed into the ER, looking for his partner. He located Ray in a chair
in the waiting room. The blond looked pale. There was a bandage across his
nose and another on his forehead. One of his wrists was wrapped and he was
sitting in a way that suggested broken ribs. His clothes were bloody.
Fraser immediately went to his side, sitting next to him and putting an
arm protectively around the smaller man. Ray turned and buried his head in
the Mountie's shoulder, seeking the security it represented. He was
shaking. Fraser put his other arm up, pulling his partner into a hug.
After a few minutes, Ray pushed back. 

"What happened?" Fraser asked gently. 

"Drunk driver. Plowed right into us. Saw him coming, but there was nowhere
to go. I tried Frase. I tried, but I couldn't ..." he broke off. 

"Us? Who was with you, Ray?" 

"My Mum." His voice cracked. "It was her side. The guy just plowed right
into us. I couldn't do anything Fraser. I might o' just killed my Mum!" 

"No. No, Ray, not you." Fraser didn't like the look in his partner's eyes.
"Listen to me Ray. It is not your fault. It's the drunk driver's fault.
Believe me, Ray." He wasn't getting through. 

"How'm I gonna tell my Dad?" the blond whispered. 

"I'll help you," Fraser promised. "Ray where is your mother?" 

"Surgery. You said ta wait here." 

"Yes, I did. Thank you." The Mountie looked his partner over. "How are
you?" 

"I'm fine. It's my Mum. Oh God, Frase, what did I do?" He started to shake
again. 

"Let's go find the surgery waiting room," Fraser suggested. Ray nodded and
started to stand. He stopped part way, drawing in a sharp breath. The
Mountie sighed and helped him to finish standing up. "What did the doctors
say about your injuries, Ray." 

"The usual stuff," Ray said dismissively, trying to walk away. Fraser was
still holding him. 

"Ray?" 

"I'm fine," the blond insisted. "Please, let's just go upstairs."  

"All right."  

On the third floor, they followed the signs to the waiting room. Ray went
straight to the registration desk. 

"Hi, I'm Ray Kowalski. You got my Mom in there, Barbara? Any word?" 

"She's still in surgery, Mr. Kowalski." 

"Yeah. Thanks." His shoulders slumped. Fraser came up behind him and
guided him over to a seat. 

"Where is your father, Ray?" 

"He went fishin'. He wasn't gonna get back till late. I called one o' the
neighbors. She'll keep an eye out an' tell my Dad when he gets back. He
closed his eyes for a moment. Then, looking at the floor, he asked in a
low voice, "What's wrong with me? First my brother. Now my Mom. What the
Hell is wrong with me?"  

"Ray!" Fraser put his hand on the blond's head, turning it to face his.
Leaning in close, he never took his eyes off his partner's pale blue ones.
"Listen to me, Ray. This is not your fault. Your father will know that.
Your mother is going to need you, Ray, as is your father. You won't be any
help to them if you are caught up in self blame. 

"What if she dies?" Ray whispered. "There was so much blood. It was
everywhere. All over me ... all over her. I couldn't make it stop." He
looked down at his shirt, remembering the scene, playing it over again and
again in his mind. Suddenly he jerked up and bolted down the hall to the
men's room. Fraser followed and found him retching in one of the stalls.
The Mountie dampened several paper towels and brought them over. Ray
finished and stepped back. Leaning against the back wall, he let himself
slide to the floor. His face was pale and shining with perspiration. His
eyes were closed. He was gasping lightly for air. Fraser knelt beside him,
carefully wiping his face. Ray opened his eyes. 

"Sorry," he said weakly. 

"It's all right," the Mountie said. He sat on the floor, next to the
blond, putting an arm across his shoulders. Ray leaned into his friend. 

"They came back to Chicago ta see me," he said in a low voice. 

"I doubt very much that they have any regrets about that, Ray. And
accidents involving intoxicated drivers happen in Arizona too." 

"I don't know, Frase. What if ... she dies?" The desolation in his
friend's voice stabbed at Fraser's heart. He wanted so much to tell his
partner that everything would be all right, but he didn't know that,
couldn't promise it. Instead he just held the smaller man, trying to
impart comfort through touch and warmth. After a few minutes, Ray moved.
"Guess we should go back," he said. 

"All right." Fraser stood and looked down at his partner. Ray made several
abortive attempts to rise and finally looked up at the Mountie. 

"Help?" he suggested. 

"What did the doctors say about you, Ray?" 

"C'mon. Floor's cold." 

"Ray?" The blond sighed, resigned. 

"I got one broken rib, two cracked. My wrist is sprained and my leg is
bruised. I'm fine, Frase. Really." 

"That's everything?" 

"Yes. Can I get up now?" Fraser leaned down and gently assisted the blond
to his feet. They stood face to face for a moment. The Canadian reached up
and touched first the bandage on Ray's nose, and then the one on his
forehead, raising an eyebrow. "Small cuts from the glass. Nothin' major."
The Mountie nodded and stepped back. He started unbuttoning his flannel
shirt. 

"What're ya doin'?" Ray asked, giving him an odd look. 

"I thought you might like to take that shirt off and as I am wearing two
layers ...." Ray looked from Fraser back down to his own, bloodied, shirt.
He swallowed hard and quickly looked back up. 

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks," he said quietly. The Mountie nodded and finished
taking off the shirt. Ray was struggling awkwardly with the buttons on his
own shirt, hampered by the bandage on his left hand. Fraser moved closer
and assisted him in removing it. He frowned at the bruises that were
spreading across his partner's pale torso. "Ya keep doin' this, I'm gonna
end up with half your wardrobe," Ray said, with a small smile. Fraser
smiled back as he helped his friend into the clean shirt. He buttoned it
up, resisting his automatic impulse to tuck in the tails. Ray picked up
his bloodied shirt and threw it in the trash. "Even if I could clean it, I
wouldn't wear it," he said. 

"Understood." Fraser went over to the door, opening it for his friend. Ray
limped past him and back to the waiting room. They reseated themselves and
sat quietly for several minutes, Ray maneuvering until he could find a
semi-comfortable position. He could not get his mind off the images of the
accident. Sitting next to his mother, trying to get her to talk to him,
trying to stop the blood. And the waiting; for the police, the fire
department, the ambulance and the extrication. But mostly, he remembered
his mother, silent and bloody, sitting next to him. 

"Talk ta me?" he said suddenly. "Tell me about yer adventures in the
Northwest areas or something." Fraser was startled. He looked at his
friend. The pale blue eyes were terrified. The Mountie nodded.	

"All right," he said, trying to think of the most distracting tale he
knew. "Well, when I was a child," he began. He was nearing the end of his
tale about the time he and Innussiq were tracking what they believed was
the Yeti, through a snow filled forest, when he felt his partner slump
against him. Looking down, he found that the blond had succumbed to his
exhaustion and fallen asleep. Fraser maneuvered an arm around him, holding
him protectively. He was very concerned about Ray. The smaller man's
tendency toward self blame and his proclivity to physically harm himself,
put him in a very precarious position right now. The Mountie was
especially worried about how Damian Kowalski would fit into this scenario.
He wanted to take Ray away, somewhere safe, somewhere he could shield him.
But he knew that wasn't possible. For better or worse, Ray had to stay and
see this out, and he, Fraser, would just have to do everything he could to
protect his friend. Ray slept for about 20 minutes before the doctor came
out and woke him. 

"My Mom?" Ray stood, swaying. His voice echoed his fear. Fraser placed a
supportive hand against his partner's lower back. 

"She came through the surgery well, Mr. Kowalski. But her injuries were
severe and she's not a young woman. She's in recovery now. We'll just have
to wait and see." 

"Thank you, Doctor," Fraser spoke up. The doctor nodded.  

"You're welcome. It'll be a while before we can let you in to see her. The
nurse will come get you." 

"Is she ... I mean, if everything goes good, will she be okay?" 

"It's too soon to tell, really. But I think she has a chance of a full
recovery. That's the best I can tell you right now." Ray nodded. Fraser
could feel him trembling under his hand. 

"Why don't you go get something hot to drink, maybe a bite to eat?" the
Doctor suggested, looking more at Fraser than at Ray. Fraser nodded. Ray
was still focused somewhere else. Somewhere only he could see. The doctor
smiled briefly and left. Ray stood there, unmoving. 

"Come on, Ray. The doctor's right. You need to eat something." 

"I'm good," Ray said automatically. 

"Come on." Fraser guided him back over to the elevator. 

"Ben?" The Mountie stopped, startled. Ray almost never called him by his
first name. 

"Yes?" 

"I'm scared," the blond whispered. "I'm really scared."  

"I know, Ray." He put his arms around his friend. "I know." He stood there
holding his friend. He felt awkward doing this in the middle of the
hallway, but maintained the embrace, forcing himself to concentrate on
Ray's needs. "There's nothing we can do for her right now. The doctors and
nurses are looking after her. We need to concentrate on you right now.
Make sure that you're all right when she does need you." 

"It's all my fault." His voice was so low, Fraser could barely hear it. 

"Shh. Stop saying that. It's not true." He tilted Ray's face up. The pale
eyes were anguished. "It is not your fault, Ray. You were not the drunk
driver." 

"I'm a cop. I got special driver training. I should've been able to do
somethin'!" 

"Ray, I know you. There was nothing you could have done. I'm certain of
that." 

"Maybe I could've turned the car, so it hit my side. Something. Anything."


"Nothing, Ray." Fraser led his partner into the elevator and hit the
button for the basement.  

"Maybe I should wait here. You could go." 

"No, I think it would be best if we were to remain together," herding him
into the elevator. 

"Why?" 

"Well, for one thing, I promised I would help you tell your father what
happened. For another, I really don't think you should be alone right
now." 

"Why not," the blond challenged. Fraser just raised an eyebrow. "You think
I'll do something stupid, don't ya?" His voice was rising and his posture
tensing. 

"Actually, I would have chosen the term 'rash'," Fraser told him in what
he hoped was a calming tone. The elevator stopped at the first floor and
three people got on. Ray bit back whatever he had been going to say. The
Canadian reached out and put an arm on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.
Ray studied the floor indicators. They rode the rest of the way down to
the cafeteria in silence. Fraser guided Ray through the line, but the
blond picked out nothing. Fraser chose for him, picking herbal tea and
soup, thinking he'd be lucky to get his partner to ingest anything. They
sat at table in the corner of the room, away from the few other people
there at that hour. Ray looked at the hem of his shirt, picking at it. 

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "I just ... I should be able to ta handle
this, ya know? An' I get angry at myself that I can't. That I'm so screwed
up you gotta worry about me ... doin' somethin' stupid. But I shouldn't
take it out on you. That's not right." 

"It's all right. I understand," Fraser assured him. "But, you need to
understand something as well. You're my partner, Ray. I'm supposed to
worry about you. Just as you would worry about me if the situation would
be reversed."  

"Not the same. Don't have ta worry about you going sideways on me." 

"But I did go ... ah ... 'sideways' on you once, my friend. And you were
worried I might do it again." Ray looked puzzled for a moment, then
smiled. 

"The brownies." 

"The brownies," Fraser confirmed. He looked down at the table and then
back up at his friend. "I'm glad that you called me tonight," he said. Ray
looked at him for a moment and then offered up a tentative smile. 

"I ... I uh ... I just knew I needed ya. All I could think was how bad I
wished you were here with me. That somehow you bein' here would make this
better." 

"Ray ..." Fraser began helplessly. 

"No. It is helping. You bein' here. Helps keep me focused on the right
things. I ... uh. Thanks," he said awkwardly. 

"I'm happy to be of assistance to you, Ray. You know that. Now, please,
try to eat this." He pushed the soup across to his partner. Ray just
stared at it. 

"Don't ya ever get tired of havin' to take care of me?" 

"No." 

"That's it? Just 'no'? Nothin' else?" 

"You asked me a question, Ray. That is the answer. It's been my answer
when you asked before. I expect it will be my answer if you ask again." He
looked steadily at his partner. Ray looked back. 

"Why?" he whispered. "Why would you even want to?" 

"Because I care about you, Ray. Why do you find that so hard to believe?" 

"'Cause I'm not worth it. I just bring trouble ta people. My brother. Beth
Botrelle. I let you get beat up. Now my Mum." His voice broke. 

"Ray, stop it." Fraser's voice was quiet, but his expression intense.
"Stop it right now. Ray do you want to help your mother?" 

"Course, but ..." 

"No. No 'buts' Ray. Your mother does not need you blaming yourself. She is
going to need you strong and healthy by her bedside. Trust me." 

"There ya go with that trust thing again. You say it like it's so easy." 

"Have I ever let you down before." 

"No." Ray acknowledged. 

"And I won't now either." Ray looked at his partner for a moment, then
nodded.  

"I'm really a pain in the ass, aren't I?" he asked, managing a half
hearted smile. 

"You can be," Fraser acknowledged, with a smile. "But don't ever doubt
this, Ray. You are well worth caring about." The blond looked dubious, but
he didn't argue. "Now, will you please eat some of that soup?" Ray
half-heartedly complied, making it through half the bowl, before he pushed
it away. 

"I need to go back upstairs. Please?" Fraser nodded assent.  

Back in the surgery waiting room, the nurses told Ray that it would still
be a bit before he could see his mother. The blond was getting restless.
He started to pace back and forth. Fraser watched him, concerned. 

"Raymond?" Both men turned. Damian had just gotten off the elevator.
"Raymond? How are you? Where's Barbara." 

"Dad ... I ... I'm sorry ... I tried ta turn ... but ... oh God," he broke
off, looking at his feet, afraid to meet his father's eyes. Fraser stood
and walked over to stand next to his partner, placing a supportive hand on
his shoulder. 

"We don't know yet, Sir," he told Damian. "Mrs. Kowalski came through
surgery well, but apparently it's too soon to know about her recovery."
Damian nodded, but his eyes were on his son. 

"Raymond? Raymond?" The blond continued staring at the floor. He was
shaking, a fact not unnoticed by his father. "Raymond, look at me. Look me
in the eye, son." Damian stood in front of his child, speaking to him
sternly. Ray swallowed hard and raised his eyes to meet his fathers'. 

"I'm sorry. I should o' ... I don't know, I just ..." 

"Hush, son. No, don't look away." Damian reached up, taking his son's jaw
in his hand. "Now you listen to me. I know you wouldn't do nothin' to hurt
your Mother. Whatever happened, I know that. Do you understand what I'm
saying to you?" Ray just stared at him. Damian sighed, dropping his hand.
"Are you all right?" he asked his son. 

"I should've done something," he whispered, not really hearing his father.
Damian looked at Fraser. 

"Bruises, cuts and injured ribs," the Mountie told him. Damian nodded. 

"Thanks. I'm uh ... gonna go find a doctor, let 'em know I'm here." He
looked at his son, who was studying the floor again. "You'll stay with
him?" Fraser nodded. Damian looked grateful. Reaching out, he clapped a
hand on his son's shoulder briefly and then went over to the reception
desk, talking to the woman there in a low voice. Ray remained standing in
the middle of the waiting room for a moment. He took a deep breath. Then
another one. 

"I ... uh ... gotta ... I'll be back," he told Fraser in a low voice, then
hurried off down the hall and back into the bathroom. The Mountie watched
him go, thought about it for a moment and then suddenly hurried after him.
He entered the bathroom and found Ray, fist poised to smash into the wall,
again. Fraser quickly moved over to restrain his partner's arms. Ray
struggled with him silently for several minutes, before suddenly just
going limp and sliding to the floor, all the fight drained from him.
Fraser let him go and stepping over, locked the bathroom door. Then he
returned to his friend. Ray was crying quietly. The Mountie sat next to
him and carefully pulled the blond into his arms. He just held him,
rocking him gently, waiting for the storm to subside. Eventually Ray lay
still in his embrace, occasionally hiccuping.  

"Do you feel like talking about it?" Fraser asked softly. 

"No." 

"Understood." They continued to sit. Finally, 

"Just ... I thought ... I thought my Dad would yell at me. And I ... he
... well, he should've. And then when he uh ... didn't ... I ... uh ...
couldn't ... I just ... I can't do this, Frase. I just ... I can't." 

"Ray? Have you ever known me to lie?" 

"No ... well, except for that one time after you suppressed the body in
the interview room." 

"Delayed." 

"Suppressed." 

"Delayed, delayed, delayed reporting the body. And you know why I lied." 

"Yeah, ta protect Vecchio." 

"From being falsely accused of a crime." 

"Right." 

"Other than that?" 

"Other than that what?" 

"Have you ever known me to lie?" 

"Oh. No. 'Course you said that would be the start." 

"I said it might be the start ... look Ray, that is not important right
now. What is important is that you understand that I am telling you the
truth right now." 

"Okay." 

"It is not your fault that your Mother is in that room." 

"You don't know that. You ... don't ... know ... that." 

"I knew that Ray Vecchio hadn't killed that man." 

"So." 

"And I know that you would not do anything to endanger your mother. I know
you, Stanley Raymond Kowalski. I know you very well," Fraser ended
speaking in a low voice into his partner's ear. Ray half laughed. 

"Ya do, huh?" 

"Yes, Ray. I do." 

"If ya know me so well, then why the Hell do you put up with me? I'm a
lost cause, Frase." 

"I have a certain fondness for lost causes, Ray." 

"'Cause yer a freak?" 

"So I'm told ... repeatedly, I might add." 

"'S'not a bad thing, bein' a freak." 

"I don't think so." They relaxed into silence again. There was a knock at
the door. Both men started, Ray gasping slightly as he aggravated his
ribs. Fraser gently rubbed his back.  

"Yes," the Mountie called out. 

"You boys all right in there?" Damian. Sounding anxious. 

"Yes, we're fine. We'll be out shortly," Fraser assured him, through the
door. 

"All right then." They heard him walk away. Ray relaxed again. 

"Do you feel up to going out?" 

"I guess." Ray didn't look enthused. 

"We should clean up that hand first." Fraser said indicating the blond's
newly injured knuckles. 

"I'm good." 

"Ray ..." 

"Okay. Whatever," Ray said wearily. Fraser carefully got up and then
assisted his partner to his feet. Guiding him over to the sink, he stood
behind him and gently cleaned off the abraded knuckles. Reaching into his
pocket he pulled out a small tube and carefully squeezed some of the
contents onto Ray's hand. 

"Hey, this stuff doesn't smell so bad. How come you don't use this stuff
the rest of the time?" 

"Well, it's not as effective on certain types of cuts. You see, Ray, when
the edge of the injury is crusted ..." 

"Never mind," Ray said quickly. 

"Understood." They stood next to the door. Ray took a deep breath. 

"Uh ... if you have to leave ... ta go to work or whatever ... well, I
understand." 

"I don't have to leave for a while, Ray." He reached out and unlocked the
door. "Let's go talk to your father."  

Damian was waiting for them. He looked from his son to the Mountie and
back to his son. "We can see her now," he told Ray. The blond stiffened.
Fraser's hand was on his shoulder, reassuring and warm.  

"I'll be waiting out here, Ray. Go see your mother. It'll be all right."
Ray looked at him, fear clear in his eyes. "Go on," Fraser encouraged
softly. Ray nodded and turned to his father. Damian held out his arm and
put it around his son's shoulders.  

"C'mon son."   

Fraser occupied himself in the waiting room. He looked at his watch. 5:30
am. He would have to return to the Consulate before too long, in order to
walk Diefenbaker and get himself shaved and ready for duty. He wasn't at
all comfortable with the idea of leaving his partner behind, though.
Damian and Ray came back out of Barbara's room about ten minutes after
that. Ray looked pale. Damian, however, looked somewhat relieved. They
came over to the Mountie.  

"They gave her somethin' that makes her pretty sleepy, but she knew who we
were, remembers what happened," Damian informed the Mountie. 

"That's encouraging," Fraser said. 

"Yeah. Ya hear that Ray? He thinks so too." 

"Right." Ray was swaying slightly.  

"Here." Fraser stood and assisted his partner in sitting down. Damian sat
next to him.  

"You should go home. Get some rest, son." 

"No. I'm good. I want to stay here. At least until they know something."
Damian nodded.	

"All right. We'll wait here together." He looked at the Mountie. "Do you
have to go to work?" 

"Yes, I do. But I'll check back tonight. And ... you'll call me if there's
anything that I can do?" 

"Yes. Thank you." Damian smiled. "I appreciate everything you've done." He
glanced at his son and then back at the Mountie. "I know Barbara will
too." Ray was leaning back in the seat, his eyes closed. 

"I'm glad I was able to be of assistance." Damian nodded. Fraser knelt in
front of his partner. "Ray?" he asked softly. The pale eyes opened. "I
have to go. I'll be back later. Call me if you need anything ... anything
at all. Do you understand?" 

"Yeah. I do." The blond smiled faintly. "Thanks buddy." The Mountie nodded
and stood. He really didn't want to leave, but with Turnbull out with the
flu, there was no one to take his place.   

At the Consulate, Fraser took a moment to call Lt. Welsh and advise him of
the situation. Ray's usually gruff boss sounded very concerned. 

"He was driving?" 

"Yes, sir. But he said that a drunk driver hit them." 

"I understand that part of it Constable. What I'm worried about is how
he's taking it?" 

"Ah. Not overly well." 

"That's what I was afraid of. He's a good man, but he does tend to ...
overreact sometimes." 

"Yes." Fraser paused for a moment. "Lieutenant?" 

"What?" 

"Would it be possible to obtain a copy of the police report? It might
prove helpful in refuting his ... overreaction." 

"I get you. Yeah, I'm sure I can get a copy. They should forward one to me
anyway as his commanding officer. I'll get 'em to shoot it over as soon as
it's done. You wanna see it, or you want me to handle that?" 

"Whatever you think is more appropriate, sir." 

"Okay. I'll probably go by the hospital later today. I'll see what the
situation is." 

"Thank you, kindly, sir."  

"Thank you for calling me, Constable." Welsh hung up. Fraser looked at the
receiver in his hand, tempted to call the hospital, but then heard
Inspector Thatcher calling for him. Sighing, he put down the telephone and
went to find his superior officer.   

Damian and Ray Kowalski spent the day in the surgery waiting room. Barbara
was in the ICU until midday, then she was moved to a regular room. They
were allowed in periodically to visit her. She was asleep most of the
time. Damian would hold her hand and talk to her, telling her that he and
Raymond were there with her. Ray watched, quietly, staying in the
background. When she was awake, she was groggy, but she recognized them,
asking several times if Ray was all right. He flinched every time she
mentioned his name.  

Lieutenant Welsh and Francesca showed up around midday. Francesca had
insisted they stop at a delicatessen and pick up some food for the
Kowalskis. Damian accepted the proferred sandwich gladly. Ray just shook
his head, studying the floor.  

"Vecchio?" Ray looked up at his boss. Welsh jerked his head, indicating
that his detective should follow him across the room. He watched as Ray
pushed himself out of the chair and limped across the room. He reflected
that he probably shouldn't be making the younger man move, but knew that
this conversation should be private. 

"Sir?" The blond stood, hunched almost like he was anticipating being
struck. Welsh resisted an urge to reach out to him, deciding a more matter
of fact attitude would work better. 

"They faxed me a preliminary report on yer accident." 

"Oh." 

"The guy that hit you blew a .22. That's more than twice the legal limit
and that was at the hospital over an hour after the accident. There was a
witness, followin' him, called' 911 on his cell phone. He says the guy ran
two other stop lights before the one where he hit you." Ray nodded
absently. His mind was back on the oncoming headlights. "Other witnesses
confirm that and that you did everything you could to avoid an accident
you had almost no warning of." He looked sharply at the blond. "What I'm
tryin' to say, Detective, is that you have been completely absolved of any
blame or fault in this accident. There was absolutely nothing you could
have done." 

"No. I should o' been able to do something." Ray was shaking his head.
Welsh reached out a hand to his Detective's shoulder. 

"I know you feel that way. But there wasn't, Ray. Given that set of
circumstances, absolutely nothing you could have done would have made any
difference. You had no time and no where else to put your car." 

"Felt like forever," Ray said quietly. 

"I know. Kind of like when you're in a fire fight. On the inside it's in
slow motion. Watching from the outside though, it's over in a flash.
You've been on both sides. You know what happens." He paused for a moment.
"If you want, I'll get you a copy of that report." 

"No. Thanks. I ... uh. No." He looked across the room to where Francesca
was talking to Damian, telling him a reassuring story about an aunt who
had miraculously recovered after doctors had given her up for dead. She,
looked up, saw Ray watching her and smiled before returning her attention
to his father and her story. Ray brought his right hand up to his forehead
with an expression of pain. 

"Detective? Are you all right?" He suddenly realized Welsh was talking to
him. 

"Yeah. Thanks." He gave the Lieutenant a weak smile. "Just I ... I keep
seein' it, ya know. Keep seein' my Mom." 

"Let it go," Welsh told him. "Nothing will change what happened, no matter
how many times you replay it in yer mind. Your parents are gonna need you
and you won't be any good to 'em like this." 

"That's what Fraser said." 

"He's usually right," Welsh pointed out. 

"That's a fact," Ray agreed, his smile stronger and affectionate. The two
men moved back across the waiting room toward Damian and Francesca. She
immediately began trying to convince Ray to eat something again. He
finally yielded, accepting a banana and cookie, before she reluctantly
left with the Lieutenant to go back to work.  

Ray sat down, wearily, in the chair and looked at his father. Damian
looked back. Both men dropped their heads and studied the floor. 

"Your mother's a strong woman, Raymond. We just have to have faith,"
Damian finally said.  

"Right. Faith. What if ... what if she's not all right?" 

"I'm ... I'm not ready to think about that yet," Damian put his hand on
his son's shoulder. "But whatever happens, we'll handle it as a family."
Ray looked down at his feet again.  

"Right. Family. 'Cause we're so good at that, right?" 

"We were once," Damian told him. "I think we can do it again." 

"Dad ... I ... uh ... I'm sorry ... I ... I just ... wish ... I should o'
done something." 

"Shh." Damian awkwardly reached over and patted his son's knee. "Listen ta
me Raymond. I told you this morning, I'll tell you again. I know you
wouldn't do anything to hurt yer Mom. I know you wish you could have
avoided this. I wish you could have too. But I also know that if there was
any way, you would have. So there wasn't." 

"How do you know? I mean how do you know? I want ta believe that. But I
don't know. Maybe I could've done something ..." he trailed off miserably.


"I know because I watched you grow up. Because I know what kind of person
you are. Oh, I admit I don't know a lot of details about yer life these
days ... stuff I probably should know. But I know who you are here,
Raymond." He put his hand on his son's chest, over his heart for a moment.
"You were a good, carin' kid. I got no reason to think that's changed
since you grew up." Ray looked at his father, startled.  

"Ya never said anything like that ta me before," he whispered. 

"Men don't talk about stuff like this. That's the way I was raised. Drives
yer Mother crazy sometimes." Ray gave him a half smile.  

"It's still kind o' that way. Only now we're have ta be sensitive too. If
ya talk too much, yer a wimp, but if ya don't, yer not in touch with yer
feelings." They looked at each other for a moment and then both retreated
to the safety of the floor pattern. 

"Uh ... ya know, I mean, yer Mom and you, that's the most important thing
... but I'm glad ya weren't drivin' the GTO," Damian finally offered,
seeking a safe area. "I mean, cars can be fixed an' all, but the GTO ...
it's somethin' special." Ray gave him an odd sideways look and then
suddenly got what his father was saying and smiled. 

"Yeah, I know," he said. Silence again. Damian reached out again, putting
his hand on his son's shoulder, massaging it gently. Ray relaxed some.	

"I'm sorry I don't know you better," the senior Kowalski finally offered. 

"S'okay. I should've tried harder ...." 

"No!" Damian's tone was vehement and startled his son. "You didn't do
anything wrong, son. All ya did was tell me what you wanted to do with yer
life. And I wouldn't listen. Had some image in mind of what I wanted 'my
son' ta be. I wasn't really thinkin' about you and what you wanted ta be.
Just myself." Ray was staring at his father in disbelief. "Me and yer Mom,
well, we're proud o' you son. You grew up just fine. In spite o' what we
did to ya." 

"Dad," Ray started in a protesting tone. 

"Don't argue with me Raymond. Didn't we teach ya to be polite ta yer
elders?" Ray chuckled. 

"Yeah. Ya did." 

"All right then. We're proud o' you son. Just accept that and don't say
another word." Ray smiled and kept his mouth shut. Father and son sat in
silence again. Damian kept his hand on his son's shoulder. After awhile,
he became aware that Ray was starting to slip sideways. Looking up, he
found that his son was asleep. Gently, he pulled the blond towards him,
until Ray was leaning back against his father. Damian sat quietly, trying
to think if he could even remember the last time he had held his son.  

Fraser glanced at the clock. 5:00 p.m. Finally, he thought, pushing
himself back from his desk. He had never known a day to drag on so long.
He'd been distracted and knew Inspector Thatcher had picked up on it.
She'd been giving him odd looks all day, but hadn't commented. The Mountie
had called the hospital several times to check on Mrs. Kowalski's
condition. He had been pleased to hear she'd been moved from the ICU.
Francesca had called him after she and Welsh had returned from seeing Ray
and his father. And now, he could finally return to the hospital and check
on the situation himself. He stretched and cracked his neck.  

"You look terrible, son. You need to get some sleep." He turned and found
his father standing behind him.  

"I know that, Dad. But I need to check on Ray first." 

"You keep smothering him, he's going to get resentful." 

"I am not smothering him. He needs me." 

"Yes. He does. And you need him." 

"Yes," the younger Mountie admitted. 

"You still haven't told him why, Benton." 

"I've told him everything he needs to know," Fraser said firmly, reaching
past the older Mountie to open the closet door. His father moved aside,
allowing his son access to his clothes. The younger man changed out of his
uniform quickly, attempting to ignore his father's presence. Finally he
stood back and faced Robert Fraser, who was patiently waiting. "Ray has
enough problems without my adding to them," he explained to his father. 

"You don't know that he'd consider it a problem." 

"Right. He's still hopelessly in love with his ex-wife - you should have
seen him asking her out at Christmas ... and the way she put him down.
Heartrending," he remembered. 

"Well, that's another story."  

"Is it?" The younger man shook his head. "He needs me as a friend. I won't
betray that. Besides ... I really don't know what I feel or what I want." 

"Don't you?" his father pressed him. 

"No! I mean I know that I care about him ... a great deal. That I want ...
need to be with him. But that I might be ... want ... no. It's contrary to
everything I've ever thought about myself ... believed. I'm confused
enough, without complicating his life." His father smiled in
understanding. 

"He's not stupid, son. He'll figure it out eventually. Whether or not you
tell him." 

"No, he won't. He has no reason too. He'll just ascribe it to my being
Canadian or a Mountie, just as he does with everyone else." 

"You're not giving him enough credit, son. And that's not like you." The
junior Fraser stood flicking his thumb across his eyebrow. 

"I don't have time for this right now, Dad. I need to get to the
hospital." 

"I understand. Just think about what I'm saying. The Yank is your partner.
A partnership should be based on trust." 

"I would never betray Ray's trust." Benton looked his father straight in
the eye. "Never." And with that, he grabbed his jacket and hat and left
the room. His father watched him go, frowning and shaking his head.   

Fraser exited the elevator and anxiously scanned the waiting room. Damian
looked up and saw him, smiling. The Mountie walked over towards him. As he
drew closer, he was surprised, and he admitted to himself, just a touch
jealous, to find Ray asleep in his father's arms. Damian looked down at
his son and then back at the Mountie. 

"Hello, Benton." The older man greeted him quietly. 

"Good evening, sir. How is your wife doing?" 

"All right. She sleeps most of the time, but she seems a little stronger
every time we talk ta her." 

"I'm glad to hear that." The Mountie looked down at his partner. "And,
Ray? How is he doing?" The blond stirred at the sound of his name. Damian
soothed him by stroking his hair. Ray coughed and settled again. Fraser
frowned. 

"He's all right, fer now. He should really go home and get some sleep. I
would o' made him go ... but I ... well, I didn't think it was such a good
idea to send him off by himself." He looked up at the Mountie.	

"Understood," Fraser said softly. "I can stay with him." Damian nodded,
looking back down at his son.  

"He takes things so personal. Always finds fault with himself. I did that
to him, didn't I?" 

"I don't know," Fraser prevaricated. 

"I did." Damian said sadly. "I was just sittin' here, tryin' ta remember
... ya know ... when he was little. He was sick a lot as a baby. We spent
a lot of time holdin' him. Seemed ta be the only way we could get him ta
sleep. And when he was a toddler, well, he couldn't be in our laps enough.
Anytime you'd sit, he'd be there, right next ta ya, waiting to crawl up.
He'd just sit there quietly as long as you'd let him." He looked back up
at the Mountie. "Then his big brother told him boys don't do that and that
was it. He never did it again. Sometimes though, we'd catch him watching
from across the room. He was about four years old an' he'd just be starin'
at us and we could see the want in his eyes. But he never broke .... Ya
know, I'd forgotten about that until today." Fraser smiled sadly. Another
piece in the puzzle that was his partner. Ray coughed again and winced in
his sleep. Again Damian stroked his hair. Then he motioned towards his
son's battered hand. "He didn't get that in the accident, did he?" Fraser
remained silent, not sure how to answer without betraying his friend's
trust. Damian smiled wryly and nodded. "He's been doin' it for years. We
hoped he'd grow out of it. Barbara an' me, we never called him on it. We
should've. So many things we should o' done." He shook his head and then
looked back up. "It's good he has you. He trusts you. Yer really important
to him. Can see it in his eyes when he talks about ya."  

"He's important to me to," the Mountie said softly. They both looked at
the sleeping man. "You're coming to Chicago has meant a great deal to
him." 

"We should o' done it a long time ago." Damian said. Ray coughed again and
whimpered slightly. Fraser knelt down, frowning. 

"How long has he been coughing?" 

"Not so long. Hour or two?" 

"It's not a good sign, not with his injured ribs." The Mountie reached
out, placing a gentle hand on his partner's shoulder. "Ray?" he said
gently. "Ray?" The blond opened his eyes slowly. Fraser saw a brief
flicker of confusion and then the pale blue eyes were focused on him. 

"Hey, Frase." Ray started to sit up and winced. Fraser helped him, gently,
to sit up. "Easy," Fraser cautioned. Damian reached over and was gently
rubbing his son's back. "All right?" 

"Yeah. I'm good." Ray flashed him a quick smile. 

"Raymond? Let Benton here take ya home. Get some rest." 

"No!" Ray protested. "I wanna stay here." 

"Son, ya need ta take care of yourself. When they release yer Mom, we're
gonna need your help at home. We're gonna need ya healthy and strong." 

"I'll be fine." 

"Not if you don't take care of yourself, Ray," Fraser said. "Your father's
right." Ray looked back and forth between the two men. 

"Yer double teamin' me. Isn't that against the rules?" 

"I was not aware of any rules pertaining to this type of discussion,"
Fraser said with only the barest twitch to his lips. 

"Oh yeah," Ray said. "They got definite rules about this type o'
discussion." 

"Ah, well. Perhaps you would be good enough to produce a copy of these
rules at some later date. But right now, in the absence of any concrete
evidence, you need to get some rest." 

"I was restin' here." 

"Ray, go with Benton," Damian said. Recognizing the stubborn set of his
son's lips, he added, "Please?" Ray looked briefly startled and then
nodded, reluctantly. He started to get up and winced again. Fraser quickly
slid a supporting hand under his arms and assisted him. 

"Perhaps you should have a doctor take another look at you?" he suggested.


"No. I just need sleep. C'mon, Frase. Let's just go home? So I can get
back?" Fraser looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Really. I'm just
stiff," Ray assured his partner, looking directly into the dark blue eyes.
Damian watched the interplay between the two men curiously. He didn't
entirely understand the relationship between his son and the Canadian and
wasn't sure he wanted to, but he was grateful that Ray had someone he
could count on. Ray looked at his father. "If anything ..." 

"I'll call ya if anything changes. I promise. I'm just gonna stay until
the end of visiting hours. Then I'm gonna go home myself." 

"Ya wanna stay at my place?" 

"No. Thanks. I'm gonna go back ta Skokie tonight. Pick up some things for
yer Mom. Nightgown. Robe. Her book. Stuff that'll make her more
comfortable while she's here." Ray nodded.  

"Okay. I'll ... uh ... see ya here tomorrow then?" 

"I'll see you tomorrow, son." They looked at each other awkwardly. Then
Damian reached out and patted his son on the shoulder. "Go on. Get some
rest." Ray nodded again. 

"Okay. Tell Mom ..." he stopped. 

"I will," Damian assured him, understanding. Ray smiled at his father and
then looked at Fraser.	

"Okay?" 

"After you." 

"Afraid I'll take off on ya?" 

"No," the Mountie replied truthfully. "Your physical condition is truly
appalling, Ray. Catching you would represent no challenge at all." 

"Thanks, Benton buddy. Way ta make a guy feel better." He turned, smiling,
and headed down the hallway. The Mountie followed, watching him carefully.
The blond was limping badly and holding his arm close to his left side,
protecting his rib cage. Fraser sighed. He really felt Ray should see a
doctor, but didn't think he'd be able to persuade his partner. He moved up
beside the smaller man and took Ray's right arm. Ray accepted the
assistance quietly, telling Fraser everything he needed to know.  

They were in front of the E.R. waiting for a cab, Ray still leaning on
Fraser, when they heard a voice from behind them. 

"Ray? Ray? Is that ... that is you!" The cop and the Mountie turned to see
a figure loping over to them. Ray groaned quietly and straightened,
stepping slightly away from Fraser. "Ray?" The man reached them. "You here
on a case?" 

"Hey, Jack. What're you doin' here?" 

"Seeing one of my patients. I have attending privileges here." He looked
at the blond more closely. "What the Hell happened to you?" 

"Accident. No big deal." 

"No big deal? You move like a truck ran over you." 

"Nah. I'm good." 

"No. You're not." Jack was casting an appraising look over the blond.
Fraser watched with interest. The stranger looked at him quizzically for a
moment, then grinned. "The Mountie! Nice to see you up and about." Fraser
looked at him puzzled. 

"I'm sorry. I don't recall meeting you." 

"Fraser, this is Jack Leighton. The Doc' that came and looked at you after
ya ate all those brownies and went sideways?" Fraser blushed, but held out
his hand. 

"Pleased to meet you. And thank you." 

"No problem. I'm always happy to do Ray a favor." 

"Good. Then you'll let me go home and get some sleep." Ray tried to turn
away. 

"Nice try," Jack said. "What did the doctor say?"  

"He hasn't seen one since last night," Fraser said helpfully. "He's had
almost no sleep in about 36 hours and he's starting a cough. He has
injured ribs." He looked at Ray. The blond was glaring at him, shaking his
head. 

"That's not buddies," he informed the Mountie. 

"Thank you," Jack said to Fraser. "I like him awake," he added, smiling at
Ray. "I like him a lot. Now let's go." He jerked his head back towards the
E.R. Fraser began guiding his partner back into the building. Leighton
walked alongside, assessing Ray's condition along the way. Inside, the
doctor indicated they should wait while he went and talked to someone at
the desk. 

"Don't tell me yer not lovin' this," Ray said to the Mountie. 

"No Ray. I am not loving this. I'm worried about you." Startled the blond
looked at his partner. Then he smiled.	

"I know y'are buddy. Thanks." Fraser smiled back. Ray leaned against him
lightly and the Mountie put an arm around him, protectively. Jack came
back a moment later and led them into an exam room. A nurse came in and
handed him a chart. Leighton started reading through it.  

"Okay, we've got ribs, wrist and leg. Strip," he ordered the blond,
looking back up.  

"C'mon," Ray started to protest. 

"No arguments. The faster you comply, the faster you get to go home."
Fraser stepped forward and started helping Ray disrobe. The bruises he'd
seen earlier on the smaller man's chest were much darker and larger now.
The discolorations on his leg also looked painful, extending from below
the knee up past the hip. Leighton examined him carefully, lingering over
Ray's chest, making him take several deep breaths. Ray was unable to do so
without coughing. Finally he stepped back. Ray watched him warily. 

"I'm concerned about your chest," Leighton told him bluntly. "You may be
developing an infection." 

"I don't feel sick," Ray told him. 

"What do you feel? And don't tell me fine." 

"I feel tired ... and stiff." Both the Mountie and the doctor regarded him
with raised eyebrows. "An' sore," Ray admitted. "Really sore." 

"Did you fill the prescription they gave you?" 

"Didn't wanna be groggy." Jack shook his head and sighed. 

"All right. Never mind. I'm going to give you something else. It'll go
better with what I want to give you for the cough." He wrote something out
on a prescription pad and tore it off. Looking at the Mountie, he asked
"Can you stay with him?"  

"I was planning on it." 

"Good." The doctor handed him the prescription. "I'm going to tell them to
fill this for you, while I get something to support his ribs."	

"Hello? Can ya talk ta me? Maybe tell me what yer plannin' ta do ta me?" 

"If you behave, I'll let you go home with your partner. If I so much as
suspect that you are not going to follow my rules, I'll admit you for
observation." Leighton informed him firmly. 

"I'm good," Ray assured him. 

"A saint, I'm sure," Jack said smiling at his friend. "I'll be back."  

"Can I at least put my pants back on?" Ray pleaded.  

"Wait till one of us comes back to help you. I don't want you bending or
standing anymore than you have to tonight." He tossed Ray a drape. "For
your modesty." The blond wrapped it around himself, muttering under his
breath about so-called friends. Jack smiled and left. Fraser followed him.
When they were out of the room, Ray started to relax and immediately
regretted it as pain shot across his chest. The rib brace might not be
such a bad idea, he admitted to himself.   

The taxi stopped. Fraser looked over at his partner. The blond was leaning
back with his eyes closed.  

"Ray?" he said gently. 

"Hmm?" 

"We're here." Ray opened his eyes, looking first at Fraser and then at his
surroundings.  

"This is the Consulate. Thought we were goin' to my place." 

"I have to work tomorrow morning. I thought if I brought you here, you
could sleep as long as you needed to and I could keep an eye on you, as I
promised Dr. Leighton." 

"Frase, I'll be fine. Honest." 

"Ray, my friend, I'm afraid I must insist that you stay here. Otherwise, I
will have no alternative but to telephone the doctor and inform him of
your recalcitrance." The blond looked at him wearily. 

"Frase, if yer gonna threaten me, at least do it in English." 

"Ah. Right you are. Ray, my friend, behave or else." 

"Thanks. I think." They looked at each other for a moment. Then, "Ya gonna
help me get out o' the car?"  

"Ah. Right you are." Sliding out, he paid the driver and then walked
around to help his partner out of the cab. Ray leaned on him heavily.
Between his injuries, the lack of sleep and the pain medication Dr.
Leighton had started him on, the blond was having trouble staying on his
feet. Fraser guided his friend up the stairs and into the Consulate.
Diefenbaker was very pleased to see them, but stayed at a careful
distance, not wanting to trip Ray.  

"This hallway is really long," the blond informed his partner. 

"No longer than on your previous visits." 

"No. S'definitely longer." 

"We're almost there, Ray." Fraser managed to get him into his room and
over to his cot. Carefully, he began undressing the smaller man. 

"Already did that once. Wanna sleep." 

"Soon, Ray. Let's get you into something more comfortable." He was easing
the flannel shirt off as he spoke. Moving down, he removed his partner's
boots and then reached up to slide down his pants. Leighton had insisted
on Ray wearing hospital scrub pants home instead of trying to put back on
his jeans. Ray hadn't objected more than was absolutely required to
maintain his image of reluctant martyr, so Fraser knew the stiff denim of
his jeans had been aggravating his bruises. 

"Oh Hell." Ray's eyes suddenly shot wide open. He started to sit up and
winced, bringing his arm up to his side.  

"Easy. What's wrong?" Fraser asked, concerned. 

"Stella. I gotta call Stella. She an' my Mom ... they're still real close.
Should o' called her before. Where's my phone?" Fraser searched through
Ray's things. 

"Here it is." 

"Thanks. She is gonna kill me." He pushed a speed dial and put the phone
to his ear when he heard the ringing. Fraser found himself wondering if he
rated a speed dial. 

"Stella? Hi. It's me. ... No, please. Listen. My Mom ... we were in an
accident last night. She's ... uh ... she's at the hospital and uh ... we
..." Fraser could see his partner's burst of adrenaline was starting to
wear off. He motioned to Ray. The blond looked puzzled. Fraser could hear
Stella's concerned voice through the receiver. "I ... uh ... we ... I
can't ..." Ray tried to resume his conversation. The Mountie reached out
and took the phone from him. 

"State's Attorney Kowalski? Constable Benton Fraser here. Perhaps I might
be of assistance." 

"What's going on? How's Barbara? And what's going on with Ray? He sounds
drunk." Her voice betrayed both concern and irritation. 

"Barbara Kowalski is resting comfortably at County General, Room 412, bed
C. Her condition is considered stable at this time and the prognosis seems
to be improving hourly. Ray is staying with me at the Consulate. His
injuries were less severe, but I'm afraid the medication the doctor gave
him for the pain has rendered him somewhat ... well, less than 100%" he
finished tactfully. There was silence on the other end of the phone for a
few moments. 

"Was Ray driving?" Stella asked. 

"I beg your pardon?" Fraser said stiffly. He tried to maintain in the face
of his anger at her question. He knew she and Ray had problems, but this
was lower than he ever would have believed she'd sink ... he forced
himself to breathe deeply. 

"It's just that Ray ... if he was driving, he'll probably think it was his
fault. He tends to ... overreact, blame himself for things when he
shouldn't," Stella said softly. 

"Oh." Fraser was embarrassed at his thoughts and Stella heard it in his
voice.	

"I do care about him Constable. A great deal. I just can't be married to
him; can't be who and what he wants me to be. Our divorce hasn't been easy
on me either. If I seem particularly hard on him sometimes, it's because I
just don't want to give him false encouragement." 

"Ah." The Mountie's tone was noncommittal.  

"And sometimes it's because he just irritates me," she admitted after a
moment. 

"Understood." 

"How is he?" 

"Primarily bruised. He's got some broken ribs and a sprained wrist.
Nothing too serious if it's taken care of." 

"You're looking after him." It wasn't a question. 

"Yes," he answered anyway. 

"I think I'll go to the hospital and see how Barbara is, if I can do
anything." 

"I think Ray would appreciate that," Fraser said softly. He looked up at
his partner. The blond was leaning against the wall, his eyes half closed,
watching the Canadian. Fraser smiled at him and put a hand on his knee,
reassuringly. Ray gave him a sleepy smile back. 

"Call me if there's anything I can do for Ray, Constable," Stella was
saying in his ear. 

"Thank you, kindly." Fraser disconnected the call and reached over to put
the phone on his desk. 

"Thanks, buddy," Ray told him. 

"You're welcome." Fraser went back to removing Ray's clothes. Ray watched
him quietly. When he had worked the pants off, he folded them and added
them to the pile of Ray's things. Then he stood and walked over to the
closet. He was grateful to find it was just a closet and empty of
everything but clothing and blankets. Pulling down a pair of the famous
red long underwear, he returned to his partner.  

"Yer kidding," Ray said. 

"No. They're warm and soft and the fact that they'll be a bit big on you,
should mean they don't rub against any of your bruises, while still
fitting over the brace. Actually, going by the fit of most of your shirts,
Ray, I think you're going to be in need of more of my wardrobe." 

"What's wrong with my shirts?" He yawned as he spoke, blinking his eyes
back open. 

"There's nothing 'wrong' with your shirts, Ray. Though, I think you've
ignored the washing instructions on most of them. Not everything goes in
hot water and the dryer." 

"Too much trouble ta make all those piles." 

"Right you are." He had eased Ray's legs into the underwear and indicated
that Ray needed to lift his hips. The blond struggled to comply. Fraser
reached a supporting hand under his lower back, trying not to look to
closely at anything in front of him. He gently pulled the underwear up and
carefully eased Ray's arms in, then buttoned it up. Ray tilted his head
down, surveying the red expanse. Returning to the closet, the Mountie
pulled down several blankets and piled them at the end of the cot,
provided a raised surface to ease his partner's breathing, guiding the
blond back to lean on them. Then he lifted Ray's legs onto the cot and
spread another blanket over him. Ray lay quietly for a moment. Then, 

"Frase?" 

"Yes, Ray." 

"These aren't the underwear Lady Shoes wore are they?" 

"No, Ray." 

"Prob'ly had those bronzed." 

"No, Ray." 

"Oh. 'M tired." 

"I know. Go to sleep." 

"Where you gonna sleep?" 

"In here, with you. If you need anything, I'll be right here." 

"But, I'm in yer bed." 

"I'm going to sleep on a bedroll, Ray. Please, just go to sleep." 

"Can't." 

"Try?" Fraser suggested. 

"Maybe we should call? Check on my Mom?" 

"Ray. Don't fight the medication. Just relax." 

"I can't. What if somethin' happens an' I'm not there."  

"The hospital will call if there's any change, Ray." He saw the smaller
man start to flex his muscles and quickly sat down next to him, stopping
him from rising with a carefully placed hand. "This reminds me of an Inuit
tale I once heard," he began. Ray opened his mouth to protest, but it
turned into a yawn. Fraser smiled and began to tell the story. He reached
up, gently stroking the blond hair as he continued to talk. The story, the
longest and most intricate one he could think of, had its desired effect
and Ray soon drifted off. Fraser continued to talk in a low, steady voice,
until he was certain that his partner was deep asleep. He carefully got up
and moved about the room, preparing his bedroll, next to Ray's cot. He set
out the prescriptions and went and fetched a glass of water, setting them
up where they'd be handy. It was early yet, he noted, but he'd been up for
a very long time. Satisfied that all preparations were done, he turned out
the light and settled down himself. Dief, who had been keeping an eye on
Ray, lay down next to him, and woofed softly. Fraser smiled and reached
out, scratching the wolf's head. Setting his mental clock for two hours,
he allowed himself to sleep.  

He woke up and forced Ray awake just enough to take his pills and swallow
the cough medicine. The blond protested drowsily and then went back to
sleep. Sometime later, Fraser was awakened by a whimpering sound. He sat
up and looked at his partner. Ray was moving fitfully and mumbling in his
sleep. He had kicked his blanket off and was perspiring. Fraser carefully
sat on the cot, next to the blond.  

"Ray ... Ray ... Ray ... Ray!" he repeated, stroking the blond's hair and
cheek. The pale eyes finally opened. "It's all right," Fraser assured him.
"You're having a nightmare." Ray blinked up at him a few times. 

"Frase?" he whispered. 

"Yes. It's all right. Go back to sleep." 

"Dreamed I killed my Mum." 

"You didn't."  

"You my dream catcher tonight?" 

"It would appear so," Fraser said, smiling. 

"Thanks." 

"Anytime, Ray." He pulled the blanket back up over his partner and stayed
next to him until he went back to sleep. Then he returned to his bedroll,
inordinately pleased with the idea of being Ray's dream catcher.  

Fraser woke up at 6am, startled that he'd overslept. Diefenbaker lay next
to him, watching calmly. "You should have said something!" he whispered to
the wolf. Dief yawned. Fraser shook his head and got up quietly. Ray was
still asleep and probably would be for several more hours, between the
influence of the painkillers and his physical condition. Motioning to
Diefenbaker to keep watch, Fraser carefully gathered what he needed and
left the room. Showering and dressing quickly, he managed to greet
Inspector Thatcher at the front door, cup of coffee in hand. He offered it
to her. 

"Good morning, Inspector. Might I have a word?" She accepted the proffered
coffee suspiciously. 

"What is it, Constable?" she asked. 

"Well, perhaps you noticed that I was a touch distracted yesterday?" 

"Yes ...?" 

"Detective Vecchio and ..." 

"I might have known it would have something to do with him. What's he
gotten you into this time?" She shook her head, exasperated. 

"Well, actually, he was involved in a car accident, along with his
mother," Fraser explained. Thatcher was startled.  

"Are they all right?" she asked, immediately. 

"His mother is still in the hospital. Her injuries were more severe, but
the prognosis appears to be good. I just called and they said she'd had a
quiet night." 

"Oh, well, that's all right then. I suppose you want to send flowers," she
said, relieved to hear that it wasn't too serious and ready to move on to
the day's duties. 

"Well, yes, that would be very thoughtful," Fraser said startled,
"however, there is something more I need to tell you." He paused for a
moment, trying to choose the best approach. 

"Well, Constable?" she finally asked. 

"Ah, right. Well, sir, Detective Vecchio was also injured and the Doctor
didn't want him staying alone and I knew that my presence would be
required here today, so he's sleeping in my office. I thought Diefenbaker
could keep an eye on him and I could work at Turnbull's desk this
morning?" 

"So, on top of being a hotel and a place to satisfy animal urges, we're
now a nursing home as well?" Thatcher asked sternly. 

"No, Sir," Fraser protested. "It was just that under the circumstances, it
seemed to be the best possible solution." She sighed deeply, indicating
just how major an inconvenience this was. Fraser ducked his head in
acknowledgment. 

"Very well. I daresay in the name of international cooperation and all of
that, we had better let the Detective stay." 

"Thank you, sir."  

"Dismissed." 

"Thank you, sir." Fraser turned to go back down the hall. He had only
taken a few steps when Inspector Thatcher imperiously summoned him back.
"Sir?" 

"Don't forget to send the flowers." 

"Understood. Thank you, sir." He ascertained that this would not be a good
moment to smile and took his leave quickly. 

Ray slept until noon. Dief barked once, warning Fraser. The Mountie
quickly got up and headed back to his office. Ray was sitting up. He
looked much better, though Fraser had to restrain himself from grinning at
the sight of the blond hair. He didn't think he'd ever seen it go in quite
so many directions at once. 

"Why'd ya let me sleep so long?" Ray was panicking. "What if somethin'
happened? What if they need me?" 

"Shh. I've called and checked several times. Your mother is continuing to
improve. They seem quite pleased by her progress. Stella was there
visiting with her this morning and your father got there about an hour
ago."  

"Oh."  

"How are you feeling?" 

"Good." He laughed at the Mountie's raised eyebrow. "Okay, maybe not good.
But better." He swung his legs slowly over the side of the cot. Fraser
stepped forward to give him a hand up. Ray accepted the assistance with a
grateful smile. Once up, he stretched tentatively, stopping far short of
his usual bone-cracking range.	

"Shower?" Fraser suggested. 

"Yeah. I need it." The Mountie smiled and nodded. He gathered a few things
and indicated Ray should follow him. The blond looked down at the red
underwear and back at the Canadian. "The Ice Queen here?" 

"Inspector Thatcher is in her office." 

"I'm not going out there without some clothes on." 

"Ray, you are covered." 

"Covered, yes. Dressed, no." Fraser sighed. Yielding to the inevitable, he
pulled out a pair of sweatpants and helped Ray climb into them. Then he
led him to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind them, he reached over
and started to help the blond out of his clothing. 

"Fraser, I think I can handle this part." 

"I thought you might want some assistance with the buttons and the
wrapping on your wrist and the rib brace." 

"Oh. Yeah. Guess so."  

Ray allowed Fraser to help strip him down the waist and to remove the
bandaging. "Call me when you're ready to put them back on," he advised,
leaving the room. 

"Yeah. Thanks." Ray shut the door behind his friend and shook his head.
"Crazy Mountie," he muttered. Yet at the same time, he had to admit, it
felt good to know someone cared that much. As hard as he fought it, Ray
liked the attention. Liked it a lot. Craved it, in fact. Probably why he
fought it so hard, he thought. This was a temporary gig, he reminded
himself harshly. Can't get too dependent on the Mountie. He's not yours.
Yeah, right. Like he wasn't totally dependent on Fraser already. He shook
his head again. This was not going to help anything. Right now, he had to
concentrate on his Mother. His own problems could wait.   

Ray reached the hospital around 2pm. Fraser wouldn't let him leave until
he'd eaten something and taken another pain pill. Ray had been
particularly resistant to the latter, but the Mountie had insisted, based
on Leighton's instructions. Reaching his mother's room, he forced himself
to drop the limp and stand up straight before walking in. Her bed was
empty. He checked the room number, then the bed again. Ray forced himself
to take deep breaths. "Think like the Mountie," he said under his breath.
"Go ask someone." He turned to find a nurse standing behind him, watching
him talk to himself. 

"My Mom. Barbara Kowalski. She was here - what ... where? Is she all
right? I mean, they didn't take her back ta ICU, did they?" 

"Oh! You're Stanley ... or is it Raymond? Did your parents fight over what
to name you?" she asked. "Because they can't seem to agree. I thought they
were expecting two sons, but they said no, just the one." She beamed at
him. Ray wanted to strangle her. 

"Where is my Mother?" he demanded through gritted teeth. 

"Oh, of course. Your father took her for a short walk. In her wheelchair.
Try down the hallway." Ray had headed down the hall before she was
finished.  

He found his parents sitting in a patch of sun a ways down the hall. His
mother saw him first. 

"Oh, Stanley!" He headed down the hall, a big smile on his face. 

"Hey Mum," he leaned over to give her a kiss, temporarily forgetting about
his ribs.  

"Oh, Stanley. I was so worried about you," she said. Damian had stood and
assisted his son back into an upright position.  

"Worried about me? I'm not the one in the hospital. How are you?" 

"I'm doing fine. The doctors say I'm doing very well." Looking at her, Ray
could see that his mother was still far from well. She looked pale and
tired, and the extent of her injuries was further betrayed by bandages and
casts, but her eyes were alight and alert. He smiled again. "Your father
has to take me back to the room in a moment or two, but we thought we'd
stop and enjoy the sun for a bit."  

"I'm just ... I'm really glad ta see ya." 

"And I'm glad to see you," reaching out for his hand.  

Epilogue:  

Stella pulled her car up and parked in front of the trailer. Fraser got
out with alacrity. He was anxious to see Ray and find out how he was
doing. His partner had taken the week off work to assist his father in
caring for his mother when she came home from the hospital. Between a
heavy workload at the Consulate and not wanting to disturb the Kowalski
household, Fraser had been unable to do more than exchange a couple of
words with Ray over the phone; not nearly enough to ease his concerns. He
was worried about the blond, staying out here with his parents and no
buffer. The Mountie reached behind to move the seat and let Diefenbaker
out. The wolf had been on his best behavior throughout the drive, knowing
that Stella was looking for any excuse to leave him behind. His usual
method of charming the ladies didn't seem to work quite so well on the
State's Attorney. Fraser waited for her to get out of the car and they
walked up to the trailer together. Ray had opened the door before they got
to it. 

"Been lookin' out for ya," he said. He gave Stella a quick kiss on the
cheek. "Go on in. Mom's dyin' for girl talk. Says bein' cooped up all week
with nothin' but guys is some kind o' torture." He grinned and winked.
Stella laughed and for a brief moment, Fraser had some sense of the strong
chemistry that had once existed between the two. Ray stepped down, to
allow Stella room to enter. After she'd gone inside, he turned to survey
his partner. "She didn't bite or anything on the way out did she?" 

"Of course not, Ray. Stella was the model of propriety." 

"You'd know. I'm ... uh ... real glad to see ya. I missed ya." 

"And I you. How are you?" 

"I'm doin' okay. Been keepin' busy, helpin' out and everything. It's been
good. Keeps me from thinkin' too much, ya know?" 

"Yes." 

"Welsh brought out the finalized accident report. Didn't expect that of
him, ya know? I mean, he's a good boss and all, but uh ... ta drive all
the way out here." He laughed. "That was somethin' else. Made me go over
the whole report with him. I know the wreck's not my fault, but when my
Mom's hurting, I can't help thinkin' ..." he trailed off and then laughed
self-consciously, seeing the look on the Canadian's face. "S'okay. I just
feel bad. I'm past the hittin' part," he said looking steadily into his
partner's eyes. 

"Understood," Fraser said softly. He reached out and touched Ray's face,
his finger gently outlining a dark circle under one eye. "You're not
getting enough sleep." 

"I'm doin' okay. Really. Just, Mom was kind o' nervous about havin' people
over, when it's me and my Dad doin' the cooking and cleaning ya know? So
we were up real late last night and then early this mornin' tryin' to get
it ta her standards." 

"Ah." 

"I hate that 'ah.' I never know if it's good or bad." 

"Sometime's it's neither." 

"I hate that too," Ray said with a smile. 

"I know," Fraser replied, smiling back. Then, suddenly serious, "How are
things going?" 

"Good. Really. Mom's doin' great. Me and my Dad been tryin' to keep her
from doin' any o' the work, so it's kind o' like we got this project
together, ya know?" 

"Yes, I think I do." 

"I woudn't've ever thought we could do this ... be a family. There's still
a lot of stuff left over from the past and we're not great at talking,
gets kind o' quiet sometimes ... but it's ... it's gettin' easier. And
it's ... uh ... good." 

"I'm glad," Fraser said softly.  

"Yeah, ya oughta be. You started it." He ducked his head and then looked
back up through his eyelashes, shyly. "Thanks, buddy." 

"You're welcome, Ray." They just stood and looked at each other, smiling.
Then Ray's spread into a grin.	

"C'mon in. Ya gotta promise not ta notice if we missed a dust rat or
somethin', though. Just 'cause it'll upset my Mum." 

"Well, based on the regular condition of your apartment, I would hardly
assume that you were the one concerned," Fraser commented dryly. 

"Yeah, well, they're endangered. I'm just doing my part to be a
conservative." 

"You mean conservationist?  

"'S what I said." 

"Right you are. A conservationist ... of dust ... rats?" 

"Somebody has ta stick up for 'em." 

"I know of no one better suited for the job," Fraser assured him. Ray
grinned at him. 

"C'mon inside. You'll love the picture they got of us." 

"Us?"  

"Yeah, from Christmas. When you were opening yer present. Your expression
is great." 

"Ah, yes. Speaking of that, Ray, you had promised that you were going to
tell me what exactly it is. As your mother made it, it carries a certain
sentimental value, but I would really like to be able to properly thank
her; tell her I was putting it to good use ... or hanging it ... or ..."
Ray was hustling him into the trailer and he could hear Barbara Kowalski
calling out to him. Fraser sighed and bit back the rest of his question.
He would just have to trust that Ray would save him from committing some
terrible gaffe. Ray looked forward into the trailer and then back at his
partner and grinned again. All the people he cared most about were in one
room and getting along. Fraser could see the happiness in his friend's
face and his heart gladdened at the sight. Smiling, the Mountie stepped
forward to greet the senior Kowalskis.	

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