Antipodes   

Disclaimer: All Due South characters, situations and duesies are the
property of Alliance, Paul Haggis, the writers and actors, apportioned as
the lawyers say. This story does not necessarily reflect the opinions of
any of them. The plot however belongs to me. I handle all licensing for
the character of Tracy. If you recognize the last name, please e-mail me
about it! 

Warning: I'm going to say this is TV-14, for situational material.
Contains moderately strong language and some violence. If you are
underage, or easily offended by mature subjects, please seek other reading
material. Thank you kindly. The rest of you, enjoy, and send comments.
Constructive criticism welcome and actively encouraged. No flames, unless
they are witty or are hiring. Otters, live, dead or frozen are strictly
prohibited. wellplaypeoria@hotmail.com Antipodes 

Tracy was anxious, always was when it was time to meet new people for the
first time. Like the first five minutes of each semester's classes. Well,
it wasn't that bad anymore, usually. After awhile, you develop a pattern,
the students you've had in classes before taking the edge off the new
students. But this semester everyone was new. The other professors also.
*Okay, so your office is half a world away. You are settling into the
Windy City. But classes are going fine. You've gotten over that. Time to
get on with the rest.* 

Standing at the dressing mirror, Tracy was confronted by the reflection.
Shoulder length auburn hair setting off a tan, even featured face. Grecian
nose, highlighted by a slight widow's peak, sharp jawline. *Alright, you
look presentable. A little staid perhaps, but it'll have to do.* At least
this suit wasn't still wrinkled; that was always the worst, living through
the first weeks after a move, even a temporary one. Your clothes waiting
as you figure out what will hang out and what is going to need to be
pressed. Anyway, this was probably the best one to wear. At the college,
except for that first day, just about anything seemed fine. But today,
Tracy had to met people outside academia. All part of the job, here in
America. 

 

Det. Ray Vecchio was having one of those days. His desk piled over with
paperwork, too little sleep from yet another stake out that went nowhere.
Generally a crappy day, and lunch was several hours away. Buried in his
work, he didn't notice the guy talking to Elaine. 

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a Detective Vecchio?" Elaine couldn't place
the accent. "Understand he's the contact for the New Zealand exhibit?"
Elaine realized she hadn't pointed out the desk yet, and nodded him over.
Why was it the handsome men were never from around here? At least some
countries knew what to export. With that cheery thought, she got back to
work. 

"Morning, I'm Tracy MacKinacmakan." Ray stood, started to take the offered
handshake, and came up short. 

"I, er, was expecting a woman." He shrugged into the shake. 

"No offense taken. You're in good company. I thought there was a Canadian
Constable I'd be meeting. Was hoping to only go over this once." 

"Take a seat. He'll be here. Speaking of, that's him." Making his way with
polite inquiries and greetings, the Mountie, in his dress reds, made his
way to the desk. Tracy rose to meet him, exchanging a firm handshake. 

"I'm Constable Benton Fraser, you've already met Ray. I trust Chicago is
living up to you expectations?" 

"It's, interesting. I'm Tracy MacKinacmakan, with the New Zealand exhibit.
This tour is very important; most of these artifacts have not traveled
abroad before. For them to be so far away, is a great sign of trust by the
Maori people." 

"So, what are we talking here? Bennie, stop looking at me like that. Off-
what is your rank? that wasn't in our materials." 

"Professor. Just call me Tracy- I know my last name is a bit of a
mouthful." Ray was looking a little at a loss. "Did you get the impression
I was law enforcement?" 

"Professor, I fear my briefing also led me to that assumption." 

"Actually, I'm representing the Maori. The exhibit director is the only
detail provided by New Zealand. I'm here on a visiting professor program.
And to answer your question, detective, we are talking religious objects.
As you might expect, on the art black-market, they're quite valuable." 

*At least it won't be a total replay of the mask incident. I hope.* "What
sort, I mean are they masks, paintings-- Fraser, if you don't like my
questions, you ask them instead." 

*Clearly these two have worked together before. A lot. I didn't know
Consular staff worked so closely with local police. Good. I hope.*
"Constable, it's okay. Mostly, it is jade objects, between the size of a
fist and a loaf of sandwich bread. Pendants and clubs. Some carved wood
artifacts. Several cloaks. Additionally, there are some items from the
Peabody." 

"If you don't mind, could you elaborate your role, with regards to our
duty. I take it you aren't part of the security detail." "In the case of
anything, anything, happening, my duty is to assure the safe return of the
objects, and protecting their mana. Which includes helping you do the
same. Detective Vecchio, I'm going to place responsibility of dealing with
any local enforcement that might become involved with you. Either of you
have questions before the guided tour?" 

"What's mana?" *And why do I have a bad feeling this is going to be worse
than sweat lodges?* 

"Any others? If not, I'll explain on the way over." 

Once they were out by the Riv, Tracy noticed a small problem. Who was
going to get the front seat, and who would take back. "Constable, I don't
want to put you out, but would you mind taking the back seat? I'd prefer
talking over my shoulder than to the back of your heads. Detective, might
we adjust the passenger seat to give him more leg room?" Fraser tried to
aver the suggestion for his comfort. 

"Yeah, no problem." He slid the seat forward a bit. Once the others were
in, "Okay, we ready yet?" 

"Mana is power. Think the Israelites' Tabernacle, or juju. Everything has
it or can affect it. Some have more, others less. Crudely, we have less
than the artifacts; we don't want to 'discharge' them. Comments,
reactions?" 

"Could you be more specific in the guidelines? I suspect Maori practice is
different than Inuit." 

"Would someone mind translating to the American? I know I'm outnumbered,
but I'd like to be let in on this." 

"What reference frame should I use?" 

"Try movies or sports." Fraser responded. 

"Ray, think about baseball magic. Like pitchers wearing the same socks for
luck. They are afraid the power would get lost in the wash. Except here,
the main problems are cooked food, and body-spatial. Hands are pretty
neutral, above one's head is ultimate safety, but if things are kept
basically torso level, it's okay. Ideal situations are long past." 

"What's it with the food?" 

"Cooked food has no charge of its own; mana has a way of seeping from
things with a lot to things with very little. Hopefully, none of this will
matter. As long as everything stays put, it doesn't. Just groundwork, just
in case." 

The tour went pretty well, Tracy thought. Mostly it was just to get a feel
for the exhibition space, where everything was. The detective stuck to the
basics; then, he was the cop with jurisdiction. The Mountie on the other
hand actually noticed the exhibit itself, now and again asking questions.
It was when they got to the Peabody materials, well, there was a bit of a
scene. 

"You didn't mention any severed heads!" 

"Ray, there is no need to shout. This is a museum." 

"They're on loan from an American institution. And yes, they are
controversial. I overrode the inclusion of the complete lot offered, a few
that I thought were more appropriate for strictly research purposes. But
they do reflect part of Maori culture." 

"Remind me not to complain at your next Inuit story. Unless it involves
this, in which case I don't want to even have to ignore it." 

"You are overreacting again. Tracy, I think we are going to need a little
more context. In case we have to field questions." 

"Know any good places to eat? Local color."  

They went with Italian, a little place named Mama Mia's, complete with red
and white table cloths, and the choice between booths or sitting at the
counter. Ray felt a tad silly; the food here was great, but... well, so
what, one's a Canadian and the other from New Zealand. Hustling the others
into the booth, he shouted in Italian towards the kitchen. Sliding in he
burbled, "Hope you don't mind but there aren't any menus here." It didn't
take long for a basket of bread sticks to show up, and inquiry about
beverages. Ray ordered coffee, with some flavored syrup, Fraser selecting
milk. Tracy, after making sure the others didn't mind, went ahead for a
glass of wine. 

 

"Okay, just to recap. The Maori are Polynesians, but with Washington or
Northern California weather. All the mammals were brought in, and in the
18th century Captain Cook rediscovered New Zealand. Then all hell broke
loose." 

"Basically. Up to then, warfare had a certain balance. Heads were
preserved both as a sign of respect for loved ones and as a way of keeping
dead enemies to taunt. You can tell the difference by the lips. Maori
consider bared teeth animalistic. Kin were preserved lips closed. When
warfare got too extensive, heads held hostage would be swapped. But then
the rifles came. All out war ensued, and an arms race. It was a terrible
time." 

"You said there were heads you vetoed including. Why?" 

"Towards the end, it just wasn't just old heads being traded for guns.
Sometimes slaves were mokoed only to be killed. It got to be that every
notable had to fear sleep, least someone chop his head off to buy
munitions. Some of the heads in the Peabody collection are obviously from
this period. One is just a boy." 

"I thought our perps were sick. That just takes it though." 

"You included some of the heads though." 

"It's part of the Maori, and as a Kiwi, I can't hide it." 

"Kiwi? Thought that was a fruit." Ray nearly spit coffee on the first
word. 

"It's also a flightless bird." 

"Whence the European population derives the moniker. Kiwifruit are
originally from China." 

"It's a conspiracy. You all make these things up, to bamboozle hapless
Americans, when you come to visit." 

"I have to apologize. Ray has had to deal with too many Northwest
Territories related cases, ever since I showed up. He likes to dramatize."


"You never apologize to me for them happening." 

"Gentlemen, please. Tell you what. I have a petty expense account. In the
interests of cross-cultural understanding and working harmony, I suggest
that the Detective pick some American activities for us all to experience.
As long as the receipts aren't too high, my treat." 

"Deal. How's about tomorrow night?" 

"Fine. When and where?" 

After some dickering back and forth, they decided it would be easiest to
swing by the college to collect Tracy. *Don't I know anyone with a car?*
After dropping the prof back at the college, they headed over to the
Consulate. 

"What are you planning?" 

"Never you mind; you'll find out when he does. Think he'll start using my
name? Or is that a Commonwealth trait?" 

"You haven't told him to. And I use your name." 

"Fine. What's it with his last name? Macconnackmac?" 

"MacKinacmakan. It is a little unusual, must originally be from a remote
region of the Highlands. Perhaps one of the smaller islands." 

"So now you're expert on New Zealand?" 

"Of course not; I'm referring to Scotland. It's not a name I've run into
before." 

"Here you go. And tomorrow, bring something casual to change into."  

Ray was not amused. He'd thought this would be perfect; okay, not perfect,
but at least fun. After all, there was nothing he'd be able to show them
as confusing as Inuit tracking procedures, or whatever the professor was
going to come up with. But he'd thought he'd at least win. After all,
bowling is an American sport. Sure, the first few frames, he was wiping
the lanes with them. Then, then they started talking how it was just like
hurling or some damn thing, but without the brooms, and a lot of other
things he simply didn't understand. Sounded a hell of a lot different.
Still, after that, they managed to nearly always pull a spare, when not
stringing strikes together. *You had to bet drinks.* 

"Just one question, professor?" 

"Call me Tracy." 

"That's the question, don't any of you have proper first names?" 

"Pardon?" 

"Well, Bennie here has two last names, you've got a girl's first name and
a last name that repeats." 

"Surely, you've met male Tracys before? You have an actor named Stacey." 

"What? Yeah, but I don't run into them. Isn't he from Australia?" 

"You know, the Constable has two first names but no last name." 

"Really?" Ray bent in closer as Fraser sputtered. 

"Fraser is thought to have started as a nickname, taken from the French.
MacKinacmakan, well, who knows what it started out as. You know Benton, we
should try to find a Gregory MacGregor, or someone with five family/given
names strung in a row. Then he could really have a good snit." Tracy
looked over towards the detective. 

"I once knew a Kenzie Mckengye." 

It just got worse after that. They started going into the fine points of
shinty, and then a strange problem about hockey, until they realized they
weretalking past each other. 

"Finally! You can even confuse each other. Run back over that, I want to
savor the moment." 

"Ray, it is just a matter of the predominate form of hockey. New Zealand
doesn't get a lot of pond freezing, so playing on ice is less common." 

"While certain parts of Canada can't manage to find a snow-free field most
of the year." 

"So when I say hockey," 

"He'll be lacing up skates." 

"And when Tracy here says it." 

"I'll be looking for my spikes." 

"Doesn't anybody play any real sports where you're from?" 

"Football is good and dangerous. Particularly when there are Aussies to
smash into a pulp." 

"Is that soccer or rugby?" 

"Rugby. Maori prefer to headbutt in brawls, rather than with soft balls." 

"Wait one moment, I thought this was football." 

"Not American football." chimed Fraser and Tracy. "That's just silly,
Ray." finished Fraser. 

"Though we do get your Superbowl. Bloody early in the morning for me
though." 

"So hockey and football refer to different things depending whether it is
Canada or New Zealand?" 

"Between Britain and New Zealand, for football. Europe considers soccer
football." 

"While our football leagues are for rugby." 

"And Canada?" 

"We don't play football. We leave that to Americans." 

*Somewhere, the Universe is laughing at me.* What the hell, let's go for
broke. "So what is this hurling?" 

"What about the caber toss?" 

"He means curling. I think, it's hard to tell." replied Tracy. 

"What the hell do brooms have to do with it." 

"Curling." The others assented in synch. Tracy directed Benton to explain.


*Why do I even ask.* 

"...actually, curling is starting to catch on in the States." 

"It's a conspiracy. Like bad cop and worse cop." 

"Should we let him in?" questioned Tracy. 

"Do you?" 

"Well, it is his country." 

"Just spill it, or I'll have to run you both in for harassing a cop." 

"It's a Scottish thing, you wouldn't understand." lobbed Tracy. 

That left Ray momentarily speechless. 

*I'd love a snap of that.* "Are you timing this?" 

"It may be a record setter. Ray?" 

"Explain now. Remember, I came straight from duty." 

"Meaning..." 

"I think we better do as he says." 

*Oh, dear.* "It's about emigration." 

"And immigration." 

Ray was glowering at them both, very seriously. 

"We're both of Scottish descent, from countries with a fair amount of
Scottish resettlement." 

"That remained at least nominally in the Empire much later than the
colonies. Ray, you might want to breathe." 

"Curling and shinty are from the old country. Rugby, well, just say it was
easier to beat the English at their own game, than teach them ours." 

"Both of you are sitting in the back."	

"Ray, are you not talking to me?" 

"No, I am not killing you. Which is more than you deserve." 

"Oh. You know, it's not as if we planned this. You're being a poor sport,
after Professor MacKinacmakan split the bar bill with you." 

"That's all you can say, after you two tag-teamed me? And stop taunting me
with your ability to say his last name." 

"That wasn't my intention..." 

"I'm not talking to you. Pick you up tomorrow?" 

"Thank you kindly, Ray."  

Ray groused through the week. Fraser was extra subdued. Tracy, when
around, restrained non-work chatter to the barest of joking nips. "Bennie,
Ma wondered if you wanted to come to supper tonight. Tracy, you too."
Normally, Fraser would have corrected the grammar. He seriously doubted
Mrs. Vecchio was inviting the professor. Still feeling contrite, he let it
go. 

"I wouldn't want to be a bother." 

"Can you meet Fraser at the Consulate?" 

Through the rest of the day, Ray smiled to himself. He was going to get
his revenge. He had never thought of family dinner as a weapon, before
Bennie. A battlefield, but never a weapon. His wicked glee of anticipating
the Kiwi pinned down in a mass of Vecchios had him humming along through
the stack of paperwork Lt. Welsh plopped on his desk. 

Tracy arrived at the Consulate early, feeling just a mite silly with the
potted plant. It wasn't a standard hostess gift, but wasn't really sure
what was the custom here. Wine was a little too coals to Newcastle. *Not
to mention I know nothing about what is available here.* Noticing the
Constable was on guard duty, Tracy faced the street, trying desperately
not to laugh. It would be rude and not very dignified. *Most importantly,
much too American in London.* A complete breech in the rules of
engagement. A pleasant smile, and a bobbing plant was the best Tracy could
manage though. *Get yourself together. It's not funny at home.* Somehow,
here in America, it was terribly funny. 

*Look. They're both doing it. Must be a genetic defect.* "Professor,
you'll be riding in the back. Yes, I know. As the bells strike, not a
moment before. And Bennie, not a word about my traffic infractions." Ray,
so busy with his repartee, didn't even notice the plant. His outburst did
steel the professor into slightly better control. As the shift ended,
Benton walked over, Ray popped the door, Tracy sliding into the back seat.
Fraser, noting what a nice plant Tracy had selected, released the seat,
and got in. 

"Evening, Ray. Tracy." 

"Dragon Lady punishing you again?" 

"She is my superior officer, and guard duty is not always punishment." 

"So you admit it was today?" 

"Nothing of the sort. How were classes today?" He turned slightly to the
backseat. 

"Fine. Today was Polynesian Topics, and Gender, Society and Identity." 

*What kind of course title is that?* "So, what is that second one about?"
*Vecchio, you know you don't want to hear this.* 

"Comparative anthropology of gender and sex roles. Usually, it runs pretty
good. But I seem to have some, well, sophomoric students. Hopefully
they'll settle down shortly." 

"So what are they doing, shooting spitballs?" 

"Not that I've noticed. Mostly, they, well, back home I'd think them
Wallys and move on." 

*Don't understand it. But he doesn't seem to be babbling.* "So, how was
your day?" 

"The usual. Turnbull managed to jam the fax machine. And reroute all
incoming calls." 

"And you ended up on guard duty?" 

"Well. He was supposed to be on guard duty, but after all that, the
Inspector put him to oil soaping the Consulate."  

Ray had still to notice the plant when his mother greeted them at the
door. So it took a moment to register why she was pointing out the new
guest's good manners. *Great.* Well, that was to be expected. Maybe it
would give the Professor a false sense of security.  

He'd made a miscalculation. He'd made assumptions, using Fraser as his
guide. Oh, Tracy was taken aback, at first. But then, he laid in with
gusto, hanging back just a little, pulling his cues from the natives. He
seemed to have a knack for having something to add to the conversation.
Not shop talk like in the car. Ray had to content himself with the
interplay between Frannie and the visitor. *At least some things are
constant.* 

Fraser was intrigued at the interaction of the Vecchios and Tracy. He'd
never had an opportunity to observe how they treated guests. He had been
very overwhelmed by them; Tracy was handling them much better. Ma was
being charmed, and found little need to force food. Instead she just
chided Ray about not having such a healthy appetite. Tony was deftly
redirected through questions. 

 

Frannie decided on playing it cool with the professor. She'd figured the
direct approach wasn't the right tack; had certainly flustered the
Mountie. Not that this was the same; this was a more worldly man, educated
and all. She flirted, tried to pull him to talk, and did all the things
she'd read in her magazines. 

Ray was not finding his revenge rewarding. Somehow, his ambush had turned
into, well, something not even approaching an ambush. Instead,
Mackinnacmackinac or who ever was ingratiating himself with the family.
Not to mention he wasn't running from Frannie. His little sister, who was
goo-gaing over this Kiwi. Somehow, Tracy had tempered Frannie's tactics.
Sure, she was trying; that was obvious. Just less apparent outside of Cook
County. 

After supper, Ma Vecchio shooed Ben away from kitchen and into the front
room. "Me and Frannie can handle the dishes. You boys go and sit." Ray had
some little errand to rush off on, and Tony had lumbered off out back,
leaving Benton to entertain Tracy. 

"Sure are a friendly bunch. Is it always so boisterous?" 

"Ray says they only attack the ones they love." 

"Droll, very droll." "Or have I misunderstood?" 

"Misunderstood what?" Ray interjected as he came back in, dropping into
his seat." 

"Your warning to me my first supper." 

"Ray, your mum is a great cook. I'm really going to have to put some time
in at the gym tomorrow. Unless one of you can suggest outdoor activities?"


"There's a good running trail at the park." 

"Which is only safe because you have a wolf." "Wolf? That's a joke,
right?" By the serious looks, Tracy knew it wasn't. "Sometime, I'd like to
hear that story." 

"Trust me, you don't. It will just start him on stories of Runamuckluk..."


"Tuktoyaktuck." 

"Whatever. The point is, they are all about caribou and getting stuck on
ice floes." 

"I take it you're from some pretty wild country. Have you been down here
long?" 

"A little more than two years. How long is the exhibit going to be touring
North America?" 

"I've got two semesters here, three months in Montreal, then on to New
York, and D.C. the next year. Then it's back via Los Angeles and Hawaii.
Less than two and a half." 

"Starting with the best, and finishing with paradise?" 

"We'll see, Ray. But you're going to have to prove it." 

"Really." 

"I think he's challenging you." 

"You're on."  

In the course of the next fortnight, Tracy was given the native's tour of
Chicago. Ray's humor improved as he set himself to defending Chicago's
honor. That he never knew what was going to be perplexing to MacKinacmakan
was the extra icing. How was he to know Tracy had never had a twinkie? 

 

"I can't believe you sharked him. Sharked a shark in his home waters." Ray
was impressed, somewhere under his disbelief. 

"I won fair and square. That he chose to think I didn't know how to shoot
was his own doing." 

"You're the one who had him go over the rules. If that isn't sharking,
what is?" 

"Oh, that's what shark means. My mates had been wondering." 

"That was real cocky. Do you often try to get killed?" 

"I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about." 

"You saw the size of those guys. Convincing him you'd never played pool." 

"I haven't." Ray did a double-take and ran a light. "But I'm one demon at
snooker and billiards." 

"Yeah, well, we're just lucky he let us go. I still can't believe he
forked it over." 

"It wasn't like he had much of a choice." 

*They are all insane. Not the same insane, but insane all the same.* "Like
the three of us could have taken all of them." 

"If you had proper gun control, yes. But that wasn't what I meant. He had
to pay up because of his 'buddies'. Reneging would have been very bad
form." 

"Whatever you say. I'm still shocked Bennie didn't report you to me." 

"Why would he do that?" 

"He's the reason we can't bet real money in poker." 

"Ray, that would be gambling. Tracy, however, was not. Though had we been
in your precinct, some of the other patrons probably should have been
brought in." 

"Let me get this straight. Playing pool with sharks isn't gambling?" 

"Well, it is foolhardy. But in the legal sense, no. It was a contest of
skill for a purse." 

"I'll keep that in mind."  

As the exhibit was going along without any serious problems, a rhythm fell
into place. Tracy invited Fraser to cultural events, and over to the
university gym. Occasionally, Tracy would round out a gathering of cops
with Ray. 

Welsh noticed it one day. Something was different. What is it? *Red isn't
here all the time.* Not gone; just not always around. More of Vecchio's
cases were not typed with perfection. His filing wasn't magically done.
Sometimes, the detective even ate at his desk. "Hello, Professor." started
to replace some of the "Hellos" once for the Constable. 

 

Thatcher had sensed a change. It had been subtle, just outside her
cognition. And then it dawned. *That Detective, he's not always showing
up.* He still came around; there were still the reports on tangential
cases crossing her desk. Fewer, and less convoluted in their relation.
There was something else. An ease that the Constable hadn't had before.
She didn't have to cut into his answers, or redirect them as much. He even
seemed to have a life. Not enough to cut into his work; he just stopped
being available for every extra task. 

Benton was learning new parts of the city. He'd seen them before, but not
spent much time there. His evenings were no longer split solely between
cases, reading , and the occasional Consulate function. "Aren't these
tickets for shows setting you back?" 

"Half the time I get one for free, privileges of being a prof. Having
someone to see them with, is worth the price of half a ticket. The rest of
the time they are comp tickets. Seriously." *Not to mention people keep
thinking you're visiting military.* "Are you ready to defend yourself?"
Tracy lifted the foil. 

It had been a while since Fraser last crossed swords; after University and
R.C.M.P. training it was rare to find an opponent. *Rare to find any one,
period, most of the time.* His moves were just a little too slow, too wide
and out of form. He was holding his own, but barely. When the end came
quickly, all at once, he suspected Tracy had been holding back. 

"How many years has it been?" 

"Over a decade." 

"Then I'll have to whip you back into shape. Though I suspect it won't be
too long before you'll be pushing me. Ten years can't hide natural talent.
If I don't get out of here, I'll be teaching class in this gear. Pub after
work?" 

"Meet you there." Some of these new places weren't particularly far from
his usual haunts; he'd just not noticed them. Having never really spent
much time in Canadian cities, except for schooling, these weren't places
he'd even thought to look for. That they were here, well, Chicago wasn't
as strictly different as Ray liked to think.  

Ray kind of missed having the Mountie around. He didn't know that was it;
just noticed not having a full schedule. Extra time on his hands to fill.
Not as much time replacing clothes. Or badgering the dry cleaners. The
irritating things, that had become part and parcel of knowing Fraser, had
slipped away. Leaving a certain emptiness, that Ray couldn't quite
identify.  

"Dief, you are getting soft." He turned to Tracy. "I have been having
problems with him about junk food." He turned back to Diefenbaker. "You
are a big mooch." 

"Why do you hold his head like that?" 

"He's deaf." 

"A lip-reading wolf? How did you teach him that?" 

"He's self trained. At least I think so. He'll save you if he can see." 

"Diefenbaker. You must stop eating junk food. People will think you're an
American." "Do Americans have a deficient palate? When I go into a dairy,
I'm always assaulted by a dizzying array of over sugared items that don't
actually have a taste." 

"Dairy?" 

"The little stores, that here generally have petrol pumps." 

"Convenience stores. Do yours have a better selection of items?" 

"Generally can get something edible. When you need milk, or a quick
nibble." 

"I have found that in America that would be more a Mom & Pop. A grocery
not part of a supermarket chain. I've also heard them referred to as bread
stores. Further south in the state." 

"What would asking for a dairy give me directions to?" 

"Either a creamery or a farmer, depending on the person asked." 

"So, you're saying even within the state, words don't mean the same
thing?" 

"Apparently there is a dialect boundary somewhere across the middle." 

"That continues to the east?" "Washington D.C. is in the South. New York
is Eastern" 

"A people separated by a common language?" *Good thing I learned about
this early on. While I have some friendly natives.* That will be Zealander
to whatever Chicago speaks, by way of Canadian, and then New York and D.C.
via Chicago. *It's just like the good old bad days.*  

"Detective, I've learned you've been holding out." 

"Wasn't me." 

"Pretending that Americans have a unified English." 

"What are you getting at?" 

"Is it, or is it not true, that Chicago, New York and D.C. will have
separate language peculiarities. Such as the ones you were upset with
Canada and New Zealand?" 

"Who's the the snitch? Come on, you Huey? Maybe you?" The others just gave
the detective bemused shakes of the head. "Who spilled? Yeah, it's true.
But not as much if you were, say going to Atlanta or Boston. Or out west.
New York is faster, and half the time it isn't English, or not yet
English. D.C. well, barely anyone is actually from there, so there'll be
some drawl but not overwhelming. If it's something we'd understand they
should catch on. All else fails, find a Midwestern tourist to translate." 

"And how do I distinguish the Midwesterners?" 

*Damn.* Ray could spot them; but as much as he might like to think them
all alike, it wasn't quite true. "Forget I mentioned it."  

The weather was starting to catch up to Tracy. It had been the end of
winter in New Zealand on departure, and while the tail end of their summer
was okay, now it was autumn. Which meant scattered days of rainy winter.
Seasonal jet lag had kicked in, and soon it should be summer, but it would
be winter. Tracy was getting grouchy. It didn't help that no one seemed to
notice the bad weather. 

Ray liked this time of year. Okay, it was self preservation. You had to be
outside. Take in the colors of the changing leaves, the crisp air, the
clear skies. It was the last reprieve before winter. It was a good time to
indulge Bennie's walking habit, tramping through woods or along trails.
Even just around town. 

Benton found this time of year sort of melancholy; not for the weather
itself, but because it was a false promise. Winter never came to Chicago.
It would snow, even manage to accumulate a little. But then it would melt
away. There would be slush, and blacked snow, instead of the pristine
expanse of enveloping white. 

*How did this happen?* Usually, it was Fraser who noticed these things.
*Guess he's rubbing off.* "So, Tracy, want to come down to the park with
me and Bennie Saturday morning?" All he got was a hrumpf. *Fine.* Maybe
Bennie would have an idea.  

"Notice anything about the professor?" 

"Huh? Sorry Ray, I was just thinking of the Territories." 

"I think Tracy's getting homesick himself. I can't imagine being that far
away for the holidays." 

"I take it you tried to get him to come down to the park?" 

"Yeah, but I couldn't get through the funk he is in. He's worse than you
were." 

"Really." 

"Sure. Nothing else, I could always let you nearly get me killed." 

"I don't think that would be a good tactic." 

"My point. Any ideas? I mean, I don't think he's going outdoors much, and
that is a big no-no. Winter is long enough without starting it two months
early." 

"I think I have an idea, let me do some checking around. I'll tell you
after work" 

Ray couldn't believed he'd gone for this. Oh, that it would motivate
Tracy, that wasn't in question. Challenge, physical harm and confounding
the American; irresistible combination. Ray couldn't believe he, a
Vecchio, had agreed to three-way, free for all field hockey. Okay, maybe
the hockey. But this wasn't hockey. It was shinty, ty obviously meaning to
whack with a stick, and shin being just one of the places that might be
impacted. Where Fraser scrounged up the equipment he didn't want to know.
He wanted to believe no Americans actually did this for fun. 

With three people, one without a clue, they were playing at shinty;
basically drills. Keep away, continuous passing. Batting that damn ball
overhead. They alternated between ganging up on him, and swapping who was
partnered with him. "Enough. Time out. Umpf." Ray couldn't breathe. 

"Sorry Ray." *I've got a line backer worth of lunatics on me.* Ray tried
to get out from under the worst of it as his tormenters untangled. It took
him awhile to get his breathing even vaguely regular. 

"We didn't break him, did we?" Tracy laughed while breathing hard. 

"Ray, can you speak? Try sitting up." With some assistance, Ray did manage
to get propped up. He tried talking but his breathing was still too
ragged. 

"You... two... are a... menace." 

"I think he's basically okay. Nothing seems broken. How many fingers am I
holding up?" He raised his pinky and ring finger. 

"Two. I need some water." After he'd gotten a squirt. "I think that is
enough shinty today." 

"We better get you to some ice before you're a talking bruise. Up we go."
Ray found himself being dragged up to his feet and steadied by Tracy.
Benton brought up the rear after gathering the stuff." 

 

Ma Vecchio was not amused when she came in to find her son a giant ice
compress in the kitchen. "Caro, what happened? Boys, what did you do to
him?" 

"He stopped and we didn't." 

"Both of you?" Fraser nodded sheepishly. "What were you doing?" She looked
at her son. 

"Getting fallen on. I needed a breather and they knocked it out instead."
His mother looked at him harder. "Playing shinty." 

Tracy and Benton decided to make a retreat. "That was fun. Pity about Ray.
Now we probably won't get him to agree again." 

"Either that or created a monster. Out for revenge." Tracy seemed to be in
much better spirits. 

"He's not going to be much fun to be around for a couple of days. I was
digging around in the anthropology collection room and found some badly
cataloged materials from your part of the world. After work Tuesday, you
want to take a look at them?"  

Thatcher decided she needed to keep him late, so it was well past nine by
the time he made it over to the college. "Lucky I thought to grab the
keys; everything is locked up." Tracy rattled them. The hall lights had
been lowered on a timer, so they made their way to the elevator through
the dim corridor. Fortunately, the elevator was still at normal
illumination. 

"What will we be looking at?" Fraser asked as the lift made its descent. 

"Pretty mixed bag. Basically I want to figure out what we can identify so
they know to check harder on what the rest is." Tracy was cut off by the
elevator jolting to a halt. "Maybe we aren't going to get to it tonight."
The professor reached to call security for a rescue, only to find a empty
compartment. Then the lights went out. 

"Hold this. I've got to light a strike." Fraser found he was holding a lit
emergency taper. "Thank you. Any ideas on how to get out of one of these?"
Tracy directed the candle around, tapping the door open button. 

After trying to pry the doors open, Fraser pointed to the roof panel.
"Maybe we are completely between floors." 

"You'd better put your tunic aside. Probably be a greasy mess up there.
Want to give me a hand up?" Benton shed his red serge and linked his hands
to give Tracy a boost. Tracy managed to get the panel off and pull through
the access. Looking at the mechanicals in the dim light, Tracy called
down. "Any idea what I should look for?" 

Fraser didn't get a chance to answer, as the car shuddered to life. Tracy
came falling back through, pushing Benton to the wall. The candle, now
extinguished, rolled on the floor. In the dark, it took a moment for him
to register the kiss. As the lights came on, he was confronted by
Professor MacKinacmakan's startled eyes. Tracy managed to back away and
grab the candle off the floor as the doors opened. 

The maintenance man was taken aback when the elevator disclosed two
people. He tried spluttering an apology; he'd thought every one was gone
for the night, and had forgotten the 'closed for repair' sign back at the
shop. Fraser was able to get his tunic back on while the professor assured
the man that it wouldn't be reported. "We came in after hours. Glad it was
just repairs and not an actual breakdown. We'll leave you to your task." 

*I can't believe I did that. Just kissed him.* Tracy's mind roiled with
the consequences. The Constable would be offended. Would he tell Ray?
*That's what I need, an enraged cop.* Oh yeah. Real smashing job tonight. 

Fraser was being left behind as Tracy walked down the hall quickly. He had
to break into a jog to catch up. They were going to have to hash this out;
it would be more awkward not to. It wasn't a situation any of his
grandmother's books had prepared him for; a little corner of his mind
tried to determine what the section title would be. *Just be direct and
even. We're reasonable men.* Before figuring out what to say, he grabbed
Tracy by the arm. He managed to start a halting preamble, before his mind
seized up. The next thing he knew, he was stepping back from kissing the
professor. 

For a moment, they just stood there. Looking at each other, trying to read
what the other was thinking. Collecting their own thoughts. Seemingly with
no volition, they kissed again. A long, tender kiss in the glow of the
sodium light outside the entrance. Tracy, after they broke apart shook out
first. *We've got a maintenance man in here, any moment someone might walk
by outside.* "I think we should call it an evening." 

"Ah, yes, it is getting late." That was all they said as they walked in
silence out of the building and to where their paths parted. Fraser was
numb. The walk to his apartment he barely noticed, automatically avoiding
the dangers along the way, not even hearing the thanks and appraisal from
the woman he saved from being run over. He made his way up the stairs to
his apartment, through the door and dealt with his uniform without
thought. After he sat on the bed, he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten
there. His mind started to grind back to life. He tried to put words to
his thoughts. Lighting one of the lamps, he opened the foot locker to pull
out his journal. He sat down, staring at the page holding a pen. "Son, you
look troubled. What's on your mind?" 

This was the last person Benton wanted to see right now. His dead father
was standing to the head of the bed. It was the depth of his confusion
that he didn't notice his dad wasn't in either a parka or dress reds, but
dressed casually. "I don't want to talk about it." 

"Which is why I'm asking." His father sat down next to him. "Tell me about
it." 

"I was kissed." 

"So far I don't see a problem. Continue." 

"And I kissed back." 

"So what are you doing here?" 

Benton just stared at his dad, incapable of forming words, much less
speech. His dead father just looked back, when he noticed his son wasn't
getting the message. He wrestled with how to word this; alive, he'd never
had this talk with Benton; dead, it wasn't any easier. "You're not acting
like someone who has come back from a date. Can't just run away and not
finish what you've started." 

"It, it is complicated." 

*G-d, how old is he?* "Nonsense. She kisses you, you kiss back, and either
you finish your date, or you ask her out. Simplicity itself, really." 

"He's a man." 

It took a few beats before the ghost was sure he'd heard right. "Say
again?" 

"A man kissed me and I kissed him." 

"The cop kissed you?" came out with a little more shock than he'd even
intended. 

"No!" 

*Calm down. You can't help him if you lose it.* "So a stranger kissed you
and you kissed him back?" 

"No." 

"Son, I can't tell you how to live your life. I do think you need to
figure out your feelings." *New meaning to 'they always get their man.'*
"I'm going to leave you to your thoughts, but I have a question." Fraser
looked at his dad with trepidation. "Is he an honorable fellow?" 

"Yes. You'd like him." Benton noticed his father had gone. He lay down to
think. Did he enjoy Tracy's company? *Yes.* Had he felt uncomfortable at
any point before the kiss? *No.* Did he enjoy the kiss they'd shared. That
was much harder to answer. He turned it over and over in his mind. *I
think I did.* He'd thought it, finally. *So what do I do now?* With that
thought, he went to sleep. 

 

*I've kissed a Mountie in uniform. Right where anyone could see.* Tracy
lay on the bed, still fully clothed. *I can't believe you did that. I
can't believe he did that.* Tracy got up and stalked around the room. *G-d
he felt good. Is there a prayer of this working?* Tracy stopped by the
mirror, really looking at the reflection, trying to imagine Constable
Benton Fraser standing behind, the two of them a couple. *Either this is
ecstasy, or I'm in hell.*  

Ray couldn't take it. Neither of them were talking, just sitting there
subdued. "So you're a couple of klutzes; I'm not saying I forgive you for
falling on me, but you've got to move on." 

"What was that Ray?" 

"You two have barely said a word not related to the exhibit. Not to me and
not to each other. I'm the one that got hurt." When they didn't respond,
he hit his hands on the desk and stood up. "Both of you, get up. I've got
lots and lots of paperwork to deal with because of you." Ray herded them
with a hand on the shoulder of each, out of the Bullpen and out to the
storage room. Opening the door he pushed them in. "I don't want you coming
out until you are back to your normal, annoying, selves." 

They just regarded each other, Tracy looking around the small space,
trying to avoid eye contact. "I have something to say, and I'm not sure
how to say it." Tracy looked back at him. "I did a lot of thinking last
night." *You've got to do better than that.* "I'd like to continue seeing
you." It had been hard to get it out. 

Tracy's heart flipped over. *Did I hear that right?* "Continue seeing me?"


Fraser was scared; he'd agonized over this. If he was just going to be
rebuffed... "Well, yes. Like we have, but..." *Spit it out.* "calling a
date a date." Tracy just looked back at him. He was getting antsy,
thinking this was all a big mistake. 

"Dating. You think we have been dating?" 

"Have I misunderstood?" The anxiety was creeping into his voice. 

*What can I say?* "Would you like us to be dating? Are you okay with what
we have been doing?" 

"Yes." Fraser was having a hard time breathing; his chest felt like a
current was running. He needed to say something else, something more.
"But..." 

*What am I doing to this man? Help him, Tracy.* "But what? Take your time,
I'm not going anywhere until you're ready." Tracy ran a hand on his
shoulder and upper arm, trying to comfort the Constable. 

Fraser couldn't finish. It had just been too much, all hitting in a wave.
He'd always had problems with handling his emotions. All he could do was
draw Tracy into a hug, resting their cheeks together. He could feel tears
welling up in his eyes. 

"I understand. We can go slow. Would you like to go to dinner tonight? A
dinner date. Maybe some dancing?" Tracy was holding him tight, arms
crossed against his back, fingers moving on his shoulder blades. He was
mumbling something, but he was too choked up to be intelligible. Tracy
made a guess. "Just wear something casual, not one of your uniforms, and
not plaid flannel. Nobody has to know who you are." Tracy slowly let go,
careful to assure the Canadian. Giving Fraser a moment to recompose
himself, Tracy changed tone. "I don't know about you, but I think this
closet is a little cramped. Ready to deal with Americans?" 

"Just about. Who picks up whom?" 

Tracy couldn't stop the laughter, but reached for Fraser's hand to let him
know he wasn't being ridiculed. *Such the gentleman, trying to figure out
the etiquette of the situation.* "If this had been planned, we could have
met at the pub and then gone over together. Can you conveniently get to
the college? 7:30 okay?" 

"It's a date." They just smiled. Which was good considering Vecchio had
decided they'd been in there long enough and that it was lunch time. 

"You conspiring in there?" 

"Yes, detective. Thank you for giving us the time; we hadn't come up with
anything to do to you today before getting in." 

"Ray, you're in the way if you want us to come out."  

Benton didn't like lying to Ray, even if it wasn't really lying. He was
going to be spending the evening with Professor MacKinacmakan, and he
would be late if Ray couldn't drop him off. And it was true it had been
last moment and that he needed to change. Somehow, that didn't make him
feel real good about it. He turned his attention to the matter at hand,
knocking on Tracy's door. 

*It's not possible, but he's even more gorgeous!* He was wearing a brown
leather jacket over a cabled sweater, with the collar of a denim shirt
poking out, and a pair of jeans that appeared to have been starched and
ironed. "Take a seat, I just need another minute." 

He looked around the apartment, or what he could see, which was the front
room and kitchenette. It kind of struck him as being between his own
spartan quarters and a room at the Vecchio's. A short couch, which matched
the chair he was sitting in, faced a wall unit holding TV, VCR, and sound
system. Mostly, it was filled with books. Otherwise, there was just a
leather bound trunk in place of a coffee table and a small unit of drawers
with a lamp on it. 

"Ready to go?" Tracy was wearing dark charcoal slacks, an embroidered
shirt and a black unstructured jacket. Grabbing a long black coat from the
cloak closet, they set out. They chatted amiably, about all the sorts of
things they'd always talked about. 

They stopped at a swinging sign, with the picture of well-fed fellow with
a mug in hand and the name "The Merry Publican." Taking the steps leading
down, Tracy grabbed the door, and directed him in. There was a terrace of
tables along the grilled windows to the street, a partition and a lower
rim of tables along the side. At the back, was a massive wooden bar and a
door to one side that obviously lead to the kitchen, and further front an
archway leading off to another room. Benton was guided to an empty seat,
and Tracy sat opposite. 

"Do you like it?" 

"It's very, comfortable." Fraser looked around some more, taking in the
other tables of the section. Some tables had two guys, others two women,
and a few a woman and a guy. When he looked back at Tracy he noticed he
was being contemplated. He cracked a small smile. 

"I'm glad." Tracy lay a hand over Benton's. Just then one of the waitstaff
came over to tell them the specials and take their orders. They just sort
of sat there, looking at each other, not having much to say. Oblivious to
the arrival of their drinks, or the glances darting over from some of the
other patrons. Everything from, 'isn't that cute', to 'I'd like to have
what he's having', through 'for that, I'd be a man.' 

Eventually, they got around to talking, like it was any other meal they
were sharing. A small folk band started playing at the very back tucked
nearly behind the bar. "Would you like to dance?" 

Benton dabbed his lips with his napkin and stood, his hand out to Tracy.
"Who should lead?" 

"Your choice." 

Tracy was offered an elbow, and led to the small floor. *Oh, G-d. I bet
I'm the envy of the room.* Benton felt just a mite self-conscious as he
held one hand in his, and felt another on his shoulder. And then, before
he'd noticed the dance had started, it was over. They danced another, and
then Tracy piped in. "My turn to lead." Somehow, that wasn't so awkward.
He was able to take a good look at his partner. The plane of the jaw, the
way the bridge of the nose ran all the way to the forehead. *His eyes are
violet.* Then the dance was over and he noticed a waiting elbow. "We
haven't finished our meal." 

When they finished up, Tracy flagged over a waiter, and asked for the
desert menu, ordering coffee for the both of them. And then they were
done. Except for calling the bill. "I'm paying. You paid all those other
times." Tracy had to accept that. When they were outside, Tracy
desperately wanted to hail a cab for Benton. "It's okay. I can walk by
myself. Honestly." *Watch over him.* 

This night, Fraser noticed everything of his walk home. The play of the
street lights on the glass. The sound of blowing paper. The scent of
hickory on the air. Completely aware. Up the stairs, and into his
apartment. "Evening, Dief." He poured out some food into the waiting bowl.


"Evening son. You're looking in better spirits." 

"Yes, I am." He looked at his father's ghost. The older man seemed to be
waiting, for something. "What is it?" 

It was something he'd never asked about. *We'll, you missed a lot of your
son's life. You've got a whole death to try to make up for it.* "How was
your date?"  

The next couple weeks went by in a blur. Mostly they were like the ones
before the night in the elevator. The old places, just two guys enjoying
each other's company. The occasional hand on the shoulder. What any two
friends might do. Fraser didn't see much of Ray during this time, outside
of work and the occasional lunch. And of course dinner at the Vecchio's. 

"Hello stranger, those students tying you down?" 

"Ray!" Tracy waded through to the pool table. "Not too bad. Mostly
meetings and thinking about next term. Midterms aren't for awhile yet." 

"So what are you doing for Halloween?" 

"Hadn't really given much mind to it." 

"You can't blow off Halloween." 

"We don't celebrate it back home, though Labour day is about the same time
of year." 

"All the more reason. Me, I got stuck with detail for a charity ball this
year." 

"Would the Constable be there?" 

"Ask him yourself. Bennie, look who showed up? I swear, I hardly see
either of you, and then you're both here." 

"Ray here was telling me about the charity ball. Telling me I can't miss
Halloween. Are you going to be there too?" 

"Yes, I volunteered to help out." 

"Still going to wear what you wear every Halloween?" 

"Well, I don't see the reason to hire a costume." 

"Geesh, that's the whole point. So, are you in, professor?" 

"How much are the tickets?" Hearing the figure, Tracy finished. "Done. But
you're helping me get him to not wear his uniform." 

"Finally. Someone willing to help me."	

They were getting desperate. "Tracy, it's no good. We've been to every
shop in town. They expect people like him to have their dates lined up
plenty in advance and their costumes reserved." 

"Ray, I've gotten my costume, and there is no way I'm going to be the only
one wearing one." 

"Ray will be, as will the other guests." 

"Shut up, Fraser." Ray and Tracy nodded at each other, for great minds
thinking alike. 

"I've got an idea, but I don't know if he'll like it." 

"Tough. Where are we headed?"  

Finally, Halloween arrived. Tracy was putting the finishing touches to the
costume. Looking at the effect of the Gentleman Captain, Tracy fluffed at
the cuffs and the jabot. Making sure the skirts of the frockcoat were
settled right, Tracy flourished the cape in the process of putting it on
and strode to go to the ball. *How delicious is he going to look?* 

 

Benton had balked at the idea. 'When would he ever use this again?' When
Tracy pointed out he could always use it as an extra blanket, Ray outvoted
him. By pushing him to the cutting counter and then through the line. The
funny thing, as much as they'd insisted he not wear his uniform, he had
quite a bit of it on. The boots. The belt. The white shirt he wore under
the serge. As he pulled the last part of his costume out of the
footlocker, he amused himself with that thought. 

 

Ray was hard-pressed to say which of his friends was the most impressive
looking. From the way the women in the room were staring, he knew it was a
matter of some debate. The Mountie, who'd never had trouble getting
women's attention, was rating in on over-drive. *Yeah, the ladies are
really going for that wild man look. If only they knew.* Tracy on the
other hand, was primped and precise. *Takes a real confident man to wear a
costume like that.* Probably was why he managed to get it; not too many
guys up to the challenge. They were missing out, given how the women were
responding. "So, decided to take time out from posing for bodice-buster
covers?" 

Tracy would have retorted back, except for the affect Benton's blush was
having. *I owe you one detective.* "Actually, just looking for some new
models." Now, Fraser was stammering, and turning nearly purple, so much
blood was in his cheeks. At that moment, Elaine sashayed over in what
appeared to be a flamenco dancer costume. 

"Nice legs, Fraser. Think that will be the new uniform?" 

"Certainly would keep him off guard duty. The Inspector would want to keep
better tabs on him." 

*Okay, we've had our fun now. Better get him off the hook.* "That is a
very unusual sporran. Nothing I recognize." 

"Actually, it's polar bear." 

"I thought that was illegal." Ray was a little surprised. 

"They were very insistent. I couldn't very well refuse the forepaw." 

"Which of you gentlemen is going to remember your manners, and ask me to
dance?"  

*He's toying with you. Making sure you see him. That he can see you.*
Something was building inside him. The fact he couldn't do anything wasn't
helping. It took most of the evening, but then, it hit. Hard. "We are
going out." 

"We are out." 

"Somewhere else. To a club. Where you can dance with me." 

There was something in the voice Tracy couldn't place, had never expected
to hear from this man. "Okay. Should you tell Ray you're leaving? You
could do that while I get my cloak." Benton was standing a little too
close, and while the hand on the upper arm looked like a friendly gesture
of good spirits, it was too tight. Much too tight. Tracy was nearly
pushed, nearly dragged to the coat check. *What is wrong with him?* Tracy
was uncertain of whether it was safe to leave with him like this. Sure it
wasn't safe to not go. *For me, or for him?* 

The moments were a blur. Gathering Tracy, hailing a cab, pushing him in
ahead. Barking out the name of where they wanted to go. Getting out of the
cab and seeing the line, he didn't think twice about going to the front,
straight to the person working the door. All the while moving Tracy along.
His mind, veiled as it was, ran the image of Ray bribing various people of
this job description. 

That hadn't even been necessary. Benton didn't notice the figure moving
out of his way. Was not perplexed by the way of his unhindered access.
Tracy, in some perverse corner of the mind, observed that given their
costumes, anything less was unthinkable. *How the hell does he even know
about this sort of place?* 

There they were, in the midst of a fetishists' Halloween, the industrial
beat so loud, it was not just a physical force, but gnashed through into
the brain. One tall, broad, pale, with curling short dark hair, dressed in
a great kilt. Another slightly tanned, with a barely restrained red mane,
wearing tight breeches and coat styled to convey mannered ruthlessness.
With a confidence that silenced any critique, Benton found under the noise
a waltz. A harsh, relentless waltz. 

Tracy was not sure how long they had been dancing or when the music had
changed. It was still very loud, and jarring. But more and more it sounded
like the DJ was playing to them. Following the crowd wanting to enter that
space, the charged space the devastatingly handsome strangers were
forming. Looking into the blue eyes, Tracy waited for the moment and
seized the lead, left hand tightly intertwined, right much lower than
proper. Violet eyes staring into blue. 

Fraser was locked on those violet eyes. Eyes that tried to make him break
first; he wasn't getting away with that. Being directed backwards, he
leaned in, gaze locked, for a hungry kiss. 

Tracy's eyes slammed shut, unable to kiss and stare at the same time.
Still leading, Tracy sent them into a round of repeated turns and pivots,
hoping not to plow into the other dancers. Not that was likely, for the
other eyes were on them. 

And then the DJ was playing them, controlling them with the music, their
speed, their switches, their rhythmic interplay all possibilities of the
console slides. Testing their steps against his music selection, he
created a palette of movement, bending music into styles fitted to them.
Building a seething, textured pattern of form. 

Silence. Weight. With great difficult Tracy realized they were still
standing, largely from propping each other up. Then, the crowd parting to
make way, they were at a table, pressing tightly together in the bench
seat. Breathing. Sitting. 

What had gotten into him? Stroking the short curls, thoroughly soaked with
sweat, Tracy tried to solve the puzzle. Sorting the snatches and fragments
of Benton's past that had fluttered into conversation, interpreting his
actions throughout the time they had shared. Expanding into the way they
were sitting. Benton's right shoulder in the crook of an elbow, left arm
pulling tightly across Tracy's back, the hand claiming a spot just above
the knee, right arm claiming left across both torsos. His head hanging
down and away, propped against right cheek. *Trying to curl around and
within at once.* Bringing the hand out of his hair, Tracy rested it around
Benton's chest. Feeling the flinch and then the subtle nudging into it, a
shade of a suspicion coalesced. That was a discussion for another day. 

Managing to get something for Fraser to eat was a cross-cultural
nightmare, as New Zealand bar tucker and what Americans served as bar food
were very different. Resorting to a broad Aussie imitation finally got the
general idea across. In the end, the order consisted of potato skins,
topped nachos and a general assortment of the like. Tracy knew Fraser
needed to decide when this evening was over, and not because of things
like hunger or lack of sleep. That he didn't break into a lecture about
the non-nutritional nature of the food just underscored how run down he
was. *Okay. Get his batteries recharged, let him reassert his control
while assuring him he's not being abandoned, then see if he goes berserk
again.* 

Which he did. Again he tried to command the situation, to overpower his
partner, his hands holding too tightly, his kisses too ferocious. The
difference was in MacKinacmakan's tactics. This time instead of trying to
overturn Fraser's actions, they were met with enough resistance to halve
them, a symbolic equality established. When there was opportunity, Tracy
would sneak tender kisses anywhere available; along the jaw, on the neck,
an ear lobe, to the side of the mouth. Wherever they were unmistakenly
sensual. 

Fraser was tiring, the long hours of struggle taking their toll,
physically and emotionally. Incapable of looking at Tracy any longer, he
signaled a lead switch and relaxed his head onto the left shoulder. He
sank into the guidance of going backwards. 

In the end, Fraser never got around to deciding the evening was over;
morning and the closing of the club came first. As Tracy guided them out,
a large loving cup was thrust into the free hand, and something stuffed
into a coat pocket. It was fortunate that the burly loveslave at the coat
check automatically fixed the cloak round Tracy's shoulder and placed the
tricorn on the mass of red hair. They weren't on the top of the to do list
just then.  

*Dark. It's dark out.* It took a several moments to realize it wasn't
still dark, but that he'd slept all day. He looked at the alarm; a little
past six. He noticed that he hadn't bothered to take off the costume, not
even the boots. He had apparently thought to take the sporran off.
Lighting a lamp, he could see it on the kitchen table, the straps hanging
over the edge. How had he gotten home? A cab; he'd been bundled into a
cab, told to give the driver the address. Couldn't remember paying;
couldn't remember coming in. *Start from the top. Went to the charity ball
to help out. Ray was wearing a marshal's costume, Elaine as a Spanish
dancer and Tracy...* Big chunks of the night before started sliding into
place, like the granite blocks in pyramid tunnels. It was more than enough
to frighten him, little enough to frighten him still more. *Was there
anything else?* He tried to calm down, dropping his head and humming. *Who
hailed the taxi?* 

 

Tracy was just about feeling human again. A shower had been the first
order of business. Trying to get at the knots that had taken up residence
nearly everywhere. Then, before cowardice would prevent it, taking an
accounting of the marks. *I can't believe it.* Tracy knew there'd be
bruises; that was obvious at the time. But that you'd literally be able to
see each hand Benton had applied, the sets of five little bruises
unmistakable, was unthinkable. But the proof was in the mirror; a back
littered with them along the left side, a trail of them on the right
shoulder and arm, some strays here and there. Even marks at the bottom of
the left front thigh, though much lighter. *Those were his fear.* A chill
ran up Tracy's spine. "I didn't even make sure he went all the way home."
Nagging fears tried to wrest control; they were pushed aside. *First food.
Then, and only then, do I try to think.* 

 

Ray wondered what happened to his erstwhile friends; he'd looked for them
when the party was winding down wondering if they needed lifts home, or
wanted to grab something to eat. Frankly, it was rude for them to just
disappear without saying goodbye at least. Which, if it was anybody than
Fraser, wouldn't be giving him this knot in the stomach. 

 

"Hello. What is it Ray? We went out to a bar. Put him in the taxi myself.
No, I haven't seen him since. It was pretty late. He might have slept in.
If you think you should, do so. Ray, don't do anything stupid. Exactly
what it sounds like. Yeah, call me later. And Ray, I mean it. Don't take
any chances. Goodbye." Tracy looked at the phone. "You just might need it.
Don't go putting your name on the calendar." *Please let me be being
pessimistic. I don't want to be responsible.* 

The only sensible thing was to get dressed. *But something I can sleep
in.* Grabbing a rugby and a loose pair of khakis and some underwear,
MacKinacmakan prepared for the worst, by being ready should it come. 

"Bennie, are you in there?" Ray knocked, and the door swung a little.
*Damn it, are you ever going to get a lock?* Thinking about the prof's
words, Ray pulled out his piece. *What did he not want to tell me?*
Carefully opening the door, he covered the room. Sitting unaware of his
presence, was Fraser sitting on his bed, elbows on knees, head in hands,
his costume draped around his shoulders. Double checking the place, he put
the gun away. He rapped lightly on the kitchen table, tipping the sporran
back before it could fall. *What the hell's going on?* "Bennie, how are
you?" Fraser looked up; Ray wasn't sure that made him feel any better,
given the way his friend looked. It was, what? *Feral. Play it nice and
slow.* He picked up one of the chairs, sitting it back towards the bed so
he'd have somewhere to put his arms, and sat down. "What happened to you
last night?" *Oh G-d, what did I say to make him get that look? Keep it
light.* "Tracy says you went to a bar. Must have been some bar." 

"You talked to Tracy?" Fraser was at an even mixture of dread and relief. 

"Yeah, I was a little worried with you two just slipping off, so when you
didn't turn up, I called him." 

"Was I supposed to meet you?" 

"No, just thought you might. Tell me what you'd gotten up to; to explain
about some crisis you noticed that needed a prof for backup. You know,
pregnant teen struggling with a schoolbag." *Why isn't he telling me
that's silly?* 

"Anything else?" What was he more afraid of, that Ray knew, or that Tracy
didn't tell him? 

"Just to be careful. Did he get you in some bar fight? Are there goons
that want a piece of you? You have got to replace that lock." *Why isn't
he reacting?* "Bennie, what's wrong?" 

"I, I can't remember all of last night. I don't remember getting home." 

"That all. You must have been drinking; Tracy said he put you in the cab.
What was it, some New Zealand import he snuck on you?" 

*He didn't say anything. Ray doesn't suspect anything. Why does that worry
me?* 

"You look like hell. Have you eaten today? Hit the showers, I'll call for
take-out, what do you feel like?" 

*Like crawling under a rock.* "Whatever, Ray." 

Once his friend was safely down the hall, Ray punched in a number. "Tracy.
That's where I am. Sent him to take a shower. He looks like hell. I've got
to go, he says he doesn't remember very well." Ray didn't like cutting
short the prof, but he needed to order the food while Fraser was still
gone. 

Fraser turned on the water, and stepped right in, not caring about the
temperature of the shower. He lathered up hard trying to wash away,
away... *What I did and what I might have done last night.* 

"Son, don't you think that cold of a shower is a bad idea in November?" 

*I really don't want face him.* *I can't face myself.* 

"I'm not going away. Something is wrong with you. Did that 'honorable man'
hurt you?" *I really don't want this talk. If he says yes, what...* 

"Don't say that!" *Shouting at him, is only going to get the neighbors'
attention.* "No." 

*Thank G-d.* "Did things not work out?" *This talk, at least, I know
something about.* 

Fraser turned off the shower, roughly toweled down and wrapped it around
his waist. Shoving the curtain aside, he faced his father. "I attacked
him. Are you happy now, that I've told you I attacked him?" He was
breathing hard, water running down his face from his hair. 

*Attacked him. My son... Get control.* "Start at the beginning, wherever
you can." When it was clear his son was going to stand, Fraser Sr. took
the only seat in the room. 

"We'd gone to the charity ball. Not together. Anyway, he was wearing an
18th century gentleman's costume. And..." *How do you tell your dead
father this?* "And he was teasing me, looking at me and made sure I saw
him dancing with the women." 

"Was he trying to make you jealous? Was he succeeding?" 

"I'm not sure. Yes." 

"Continue." 

"Well, I'd had enough and told him it was time to go, somewhere we could
be together." 

*I don't want to hear this.* "Alone?" 

"No!" Fraser was really screaming now. 

"Calm down. Want someone to come in here? Okay, so you went somewhere..."
*I'm not filling that in. But he did say not alone.* 

"A club. The only place I could think of." 

"Not where you had your date." 

"Somewhere my official duties had led." 

*Please, can this be over soon?* "So, you're at the club. What happened
then?" 

"We danced." 

"Danced." *I think I'm missing something. Even my son can't make this much
fuss about something he did dancing.* 

"I wasn't myself. I was leading, and..." 

*And what?* "Does he normally lead?" 

"We take turns; we did the first date anyway." 

"If you don't mind, which date was this, the one you're now telling me
about?" 

"I'm not sure. I mean we fence, and go to shows..." 

"Dates. Ones that are obviously dates to other people around." *Is this
genetic, this streak of his?* 

"The second." 

*That explains alot. I'm going to have to ask him point blank.* "You said
you attacked him. Was that later?" 

"During. I, well, I manhandled him." 

*Interesting turn of phrase. I'll presume the dictionary definition.* "The
exact details, as if it was a statement you were writing up for a case." 

It was too much for him; he thought he knew what word would be in a case
report, and it was too overwhelming. "I can't remember. I can remember
snatches but I'm not sure if there..." He was starting to slump, and the
ghost got up, hoping his son would take the hint. 

"What is the next thing you do recall?" 

"Waking up a while ago. I'd been bundled into a taxi, and according to
Ray, my date did that." 

"Ray knows?" It was more a statement, the question being what was known. 

"No. I mean, Ray knows him, but not anything else. He had called him,
wondering where we'd gone. Wasn't told much, just to be careful." 

*What do these facts construct? At least I have a basis to ask questions.*
"Did he say anything else to the detective? What to be careful about?" 

"No. I don't think so." 

"You said you attacked him, while dancing, in public. Since you won't, or
can't, tell me what you did, I'm going to have to ask. Please try to
remain calm. Are you up to that?" Fraser Sr. was trying to calm his son
with a combination of cool procedure and fatherly concern. His son nodded
weakly as he sat. 

"Did you strike him?" 

"Not that I recall." 

"Did you punch him?" 

"Not that I recall." 

"Can you tell me what you do recall doing?" 

"I held him much too hard. Kissed him... without concern. I paid no
attention to his desires." 

"Did anyone step in? To stop you, or assist him?" 

"No. But that may not be relevant." 

*What is that supposed to mean? It will wait.* "Son, I want you to think
carefully and detached. If you, as a Constable, saw a man do what you did,
to a lady, would you have intervened?" 

"Yes. I would hope anyone would do so." 

"According to your date, he put you in a cab to send you home. Did he have
to hurt you, to manage that?" 

"I do not believe so. I think I'd have something to show for it if he had.
When I got up, I did remember being put in the cab, but not by whom." 

"I take it the two of you are of a size; nearly even match in
hand-to-hand?" 

"I'm a Mountie. Otherwise, yes." 

*If it were two buddies, I'd wonder what the fuss is about. Hell, even if
they decked each other in a bar brawl. But just because... well, it is
different.* "If the Detective was of a weight, and he picked a fight with
you, would you forgive him?" 

"Yes. But that isn't what happened last night; what I did was something
else." 

"Good. I needed to be sure you understood that. You got lucky last night;
happened that he could defend himself. Your problem, is making sure this
never happens again. Ever." 

Before Fraser could respond, Ray was knocking on the door. "You didn't
pass out in there did you? Food should be here any moment." Benton tried
to pull himself together, and exited the bathroom. "You still don't look
too good."  

There was a knocking on the door, insistent. Tracy bolted up, cursing for
even thinking it was Benton. Going to the bedroom door, called out. "Who
is it?" *What time is it?* 

"Ray." 

The door opened quickly. Ray saw that the professor looked like he'd
gotten dressed and then gone to sleep. Looked a little better than Fraser;
managed a shave anyway. *Still, why'd he be dressed if all he wanted was
to catch up on his sleep?* Stepping inside, Ray paced, a little cramped in
the tiny sitting room. When the door was closed, he started in. "What the
hell happened last night? What was I supposed to be on guard for? When I
got there, he looked a mess; no offense but you don't look your best
either." 

"Ray, can I take your coat? If you must pace, would you take off your
shoes. Anything I can grab from the kitchen?" *How do I handle this? I'm
not going to lie for him; but telling Ray isn't going to do him any good
either.* When Ray handed over the coat and toed out of his shoes, Tracy
decided they'd be needing coffee. 

"What did he say? I wasn't in any condition last night to make sure he got
home. How bad did he look?" 

"Mostly he just asked me questions. He seemed a little fuzzy on what had
happened; couldn't remember it was you who got him into the taxi. He
seemed worried about that, not remembering stuff. Wondered what you'd told
me." Somewhere, his inner cop was balking, but his concern overpowered it.
"He didn't look good. Frankly, he looked like he'd woke up from a
nightmare. Don't think he had eaten since getting in, hadn't put away his
things. That's pretty serious for him." 

"But he went straight home?" 

"I don't think he could have done anything else; I think he pulled himself
up the stairs and fell into bed. Are you going to tell me what happened
last night? It would help if I knew what I was supposed to be protecting
him from."  

Tracy was exhausted, emotionally more than anything else. Dealing with
Ray, without blurting out everything, was draining work. The worst was
still to come. Figuring out what had happened and why. *I've got to go
over it while it is fresh. Pacing around, Tracy noticed the trophy cup.
That would sure have been really good, had the detective seen that.
Picking it up, the professor looked at it carefully; hadn't had a chance
before. It was the overall award, for the whole evening. Remembering
something else being handed over, Tracy went through the costume finding a
small bundle of cards. *Looks like we made an impression.* Several were
vouchers for the club; seems they were so busy, their 'fans' weren't able
to reward them that evening. Several others were numbers, virtually
introduction cards. Then there was a list of all the names used in the
voting. The rest seemed to be the prize, gift certificates to several,
distinctive, businesses. Bundling the mass, Tracy dumped them into a
drawer. 

 

Finally Ray was gone, leaving Fraser to his thoughts. He'd always believed
there were things he was incapable of doing. Certainty was now gone,
leaving him aware of a darkness inside. That could cause, might cause him
to do the unspeakable. *What do I do now?* 

*What do I do now?* It was the only question, Tracy knew. Could dump him;
possibly should dump him. *And live the rest of his life, waiting for him
to do harm?* Not to Tracy. It was a fear that something would come
unchained inside; something once unfettered that would be capable of
anything. "How do I do this?" 

"How do I do this?" Fraser rolled around several plans; nearly all sent
him north. Maybe he could get transferred to the Yukon. 

Somewhere. But the thought of being alone, carrying this... Out in the
wilderness... He the only law... "I have to face this. Or I'm already
lost."	

They ran into each other in the park. "We have to talk." They said in near
unison. They decided to walk the trail into the woods. 

"You didn't tell him." Fraser stated, wondering why. 

"No. You didn't either." 

"I should have." 

"Why? So your best friend would have to choose? Could you do that to Ray?"


"Anything is possible." He said glumly. 

"Would it be right?" 

"No. That didn't stop me." 

"What started you? What were your intentions? Did you have any?" 

"I don't know. I, I don't know what I might have done." 

"Neither did I. Do you know why we can be here, having this conversation?"


"Because I got lucky; you were able to stop me." 

Tracy turned Benton about, holding him by the upper arms. "No, Constable
Benton Fraser, we got lucky, because you are a good man. If you weren't,
we wouldn't be here. Had you intended me harm, at least one of us would be
in hospital, gaol or morgue. I couldn't have prevented it. You took me to
a public place. You feel remorse. For that, we can have this conversation.
We have to have this conversation, because you are a good man." Fraser
looked into violet eyes with blue disbelief. "Only you can choose to stay
one." 

"But I might have..." 

"You didn't. In the end, we are measured by our actions. Now, what action
was your intent? Something you wanted to do at the ball; that might have
been done at the ball. What did you want?" Fraser moved in slowly, cupping
Tracy's right shoulder blade with his left hand, right arm around waist.
Brushing Tracy's lips, Fraser continued the kiss deeper, and deeper, each
stage waiting its inevitable turn discretely behind the one before, as if
it were a formal procession. When it was over, well past the logic of
needing air, he pulled away slightly, Tracy still in his arms. 

Thought took awhile to return to Tracy, longer still words for that
thought. "Every dance? I mean, a whole evening, of," Tracy realizing the
futility of mere words, slid right arm up Benton's back to cradle the nape
of his neck, and cupping his head in the left hand, thumb behind the ear,
firmly kissed Fraser, circling his tongue in a riposte-counter riposte
fashion. When breath was needed, Tracy pulled back just enough so Benton
could read the question in violet. 

"In so far as can be done on a crowded dance floor." Benton felt one of
Tracy's fingers placed on his lips and saw a warning glance of not to
move. After a few moments, Tracy started to disengage. A question in
cerulean formed. 

"Joggers. Much as I'd like to continue this "might-have-been", we'd better
continue our walk. Up that hill, and onto a different path." 

After the two scrambled up the hill, through the leafless trees, and down
to another footpath, Tracy started to talk, and fell silent. 

"What is it?" Fraser asked worriedly. 

"Can you help me over to that boulder? These shoes weren't made for that."
Fraser helped the professor over to the rocks, setting his rather friendly
burden down. Tracy started plucking burrs and stickers off the wing-tip
laces. Finally being able to untie them, Tracy got the offending material
shaken out of the shoes. "Nothing like walking on prickles in dress shoes.
So, how did that intent turn into the actual events?" 

Fraser slumped onto another boulder, forehead lolling on the heels of his
hands. It became apparent he wasn't going to answer. 

"Can you at least look at me?" Tracy could see the tears pooling up in his
eyes, before he looked away again. "Try telling me what brought on the
intent itself. I'd like to know what gets you so, inspired." 

"You, sir. My desire for you." The words were spit out, laced with fire
and shame. Fraser sat up straight and bent his head down, and hummed for a
little while. "Just what am I to you? I want to know. You kissed me, gave
me one date and then everything was back to normal; except me. Why me?" 

"Should I have not kissed you? You didn't have to kiss me back. I enjoy
your company and I am very attracted to you. You said you liked what we
had been doing, called them dates." Tracy mind resounded with a very deep,
resonant bell. "You couldn't tell me; I thought it was something you
didn't want, but you couldn't tell me what you did want. Will you tell me,
what you do want?" 

"I don't know anymore. I used to know who I was, and what I was, but
you've changed me." Fraser caught the look in Tracy's eyes. "I don't mean
in a direct sense; I do keep up with the news. I mean, I had to think
about... and in the end, I couldn't say I was upset that you had. In the
words of my father, you have to finish what you start. I didn't make it
very clear, when I said call a date a date?" 

"No, but I presumed I understood; I should know better." Tracy got up.
"Want to walk? These rocks aren't the best seats, not in this weather. So,
what would you change?" They meandered along the trail. 

"Just more date in our outings, or more of our outings being dates."
Fraser noticed the purpled 'And?' "Dancing and..." 

"PDA? Public displays of affection; kept hearing the term, so I made it a
bonus question." 

"Yes." Fraser filed the acronym, glad to have a clear way of referring, to
the distinction between... "The possibility of PDA is what makes a date
not something else."  

Ray had known something was up, something his best friend and his new
friend weren't telling him. Why had worried him; what couldn't they tell
him? And then, whatever it was, was gone. *Must have been some point of
honor.* Yeah, that would be like them. Going to a bar, and getting into
some strange argument. *Maybe they ran into some Australians.* He wondered
how this had happened, him a Chicago boy, learning so much about the
Commonwealth rivalries. Yeah, he could see it now, Tracy giving some
Aussies lip, Fraser trying to smooth things over. Fight ensues, bar turned
into a shambles. Only the faintest corner of his mind noted, neither had
shiners. 

"So, why a sudden interest in having some real clothes?" Ray was holding
up various options. 

"Well, I've been going out more often, and it seems reasonable to take a
few more items to the cleaners instead of going so often." 

"Getting embarrassed into it, huh?" Ray put the rejected items back. 

"That's just silly, Ray. Actually, I suspect Prof. MacKinacmakan has been
taking advantage of my uniform." 

"Oh, really? What'd he do, pass you off as visiting U.N. staff? Or do you
have your own island nation?" 

*I'm going to have ask him about that.* "Something like that." 

"Bennie, could you be more specific what you are looking for?" Ray pointed
around the store. "Because this would be a lot faster then." 

"Part of the reason I asked for your help, is I really don't know." 

"Finally. What sort of a crowd are you moving with? Because the important
part is to look like you belong, yet still stand out." 

"Ray, I just need a couple jackets, maybe three, and some new shirts." 

"Something people won't notice you are repeating?" 

"Exactly. And Ray, something that, well, is me."  

Fraser had to admit, he was pretty happy. Since he didn't have to wear his
uniform when they went to plays or concerts, Tracy and he could hold
hands, once the house lights were down. Somehow, he needed that bit of
reassurance. Some nights he would still wear his uniform; either because
the event was more formal, or Tracy needed the clout. After Ray had
mentioned the possibilities, he'd called him on it. He'd as much as
admitted to it. *Why don't I mind?* They largely stopped going to the pub,
unless it was a workday lunch, switching to the Merry Publican or some
other establishment. 

He'd been a little shocked when Tracy told him it was time he learned how
to play pool. Ray had considered that important, so Fraser had obliged
when he found himself in Chicago. *Have to give Tracy credit, he gives
great lessons.* Fraser felt slightly guilty for being a slow study on
purpose; being guided in his shots was worth it though. That's how he'd
learned that past the archway in the Merry Publican was a sort of a youth
hang out, school out to six on school nights and all day Saturday and
school holidays, until five. Several of the regular dykes took turns
supervising the room. After awhile, the pair of them were allowed to sub
for a few hours, on and off. It was strange how his new life, gave him
more opportunities to be a positive role model.  

"You know, if we aren't careful, we'll be trendsetters." Tracy smiled at
Fraser. 

"What do you mean?" He asked of his dance partner. 

"People are starting to copy your lead modification. I've seen it in two
forms; your way, left hands to blade, right to waist, and the reverse." 

"And?" Fraser dipped Tracy. 

"Just that it will be interesting if the two forms are adopted by
different segments, or if it'll be a matter of personal preference." Tracy
signaled lead change, and dipped Fraser. 

"Actually, I see a third." Fraser signaled where Tracy could turn. 

"Oh, shoulder instead of waist. Thank you for pointing that out.
Theoretically, that would make four." Tracy was stopped from continuing on
by a long kiss. 

"Have you decided about whether to Thanksgiving at the Vecchio's?" 

"I told Ray yes. For both of us; hope you don't mind." 

The band ended their set, and the broad shouldered couple returned to
their table. About five minutes passed, when a number of police officers
came in through both the front and kitchen doors, announcing it was a
raid. An anxious violet flash was met with a calm blue that slowly
directed to the bar. *Suspected underage drinking, or drug deal. Regular
cop stuff.* They calmly waited their turn to be cuffed and their rights
read and loaded into transport. 

Lt. Welsh had stayed late reading the latest bunch of case reports.
*Either Ray's spelling is getting worse, I need glasses, or Red is again
making Chicago a strange place indeed.* Deciding he'd need coffee to get
through the rest of them, he headed to the canteen. To find Red and the
Professor cuffed together, among a large group of other, dressy casual
attired people. "Evening." He heard the unisoned 'Evening, sir./Evening,
Lt.' as he walked to the desk sergeant to find out where the two had been
picked up. When he got it, he didn't recognized the establishment name,
but didn't like the warrant one bit. 

Elaine was getting real worried; Ray had gotten her to agree and run some
plates, after her shift was over, way too easily. *I have got to get a
life.* She brightened up a bit when she saw the department's two most
handsome additions. It was a little reward from the Universe for putting
up with Ray. It took her awhile to notice it wasn't a social call or work
that had them in the station; then she realized she was staring at the
cuffs. She was snapped to by the chorused 'Evening, Elaine.' 

"We've got to stop meeting like this." She camped at the Mountie,
realizing he didn't get the film reference. 

"Elaine, would you have a camera; I'd like a souvenir to send to my mates
back home." 

She had to laugh at that; not only wasn't he embarrassed, he seemed
cheerful. "Sure, be back in a minute." Grabbing an evidence camera and
slipping in a short roll of film, she returned to some of the best camera
subjects she could think of. "Okay you two, over here so I've got a clean
shot." First a few head and shoulders of Tracy and Benton holding up the
cuffs, a couple full lengths, and then a few extras, without the cuffs
visible. *When will I get a chance like this again?* 

"Thank you, Elaine." 

"Thank you kindly." 

*No, thank you, very kindly.* "Will that be matte or glossy, and which
portrait package? I'll get these developed for you personally." 

Benton looked at Tracy a little confused. He just got back a twinkling eye
back. 

Somehow, he wasn't very concerned.  

"Did you hear about Fraser getting arrested last night? Guess where, I
dare you?" Detective Huey was enjoying needling Vecchio. When he didn't
play along, he sprung it. "A gay bar and grill. Does he get extra points
if he collects a whole set?" 

*Fraser got arrested.* Elaine shot daggers at Huey, and he went back to
his desk. *He didn't mention it this morning.* 

"Ray, here's that information you wanted. Just so you know, it was a
pretty normal professional crowd. Just fewer women wearing dresses." 

"Vecchio, in here." Welsh bellowed from his office door. 

Once he was in the office, door closed. "Yes?" 

"I wanted to go over some of these reports." Welsh rattled off a few of
the stranger items. 

"That's exactly what happened. No, I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't
there; I was and I don't. I find that's easier." 

Lt. Welsh sighed, and handed over a file. "What's your opinion?" 

Ray read over the pages quickly. "It's dirty. Who asked for the warrant?" 

"Haven't been able to find out; what else do you notice?" 

"Which, that the tip came from a large contributor to the authorizing
judge, that no evidence of wrong doing was found, or that it could bring a
heavy civil suit against the department?" 

"I don't like it when my precinct is used as someone's personal staff. I
want you to check on motive. Maybe we'll turn up something that will
stick." 

"Understood."  

"Ray, you ready for lunch? I had to be over this way anyway, so I thought
I'd check." 

"Sure. We'll swing by and pick up Bennie." Ray was pretty low key. 

"Interesting legal system you have here; didn't plan on seeing it first
hand." 

*What did he say?* "What, finally got caught hustling pool?" Ray attempted
his brusque patter. 

"Would you believe having dinner? Neither will my home bar keep."  

"Hello, Ray. Is that a new case? Hello, Tracy." Fraser greeted as he got
into the Riv. 

"Sort of. Not officially, just double-checking some stuff for Welsh."
Fraser gestured to the folder. "Sure, might as well." 

Fraser read for awhile. "Oh, dear." 

"Is that all you can say? You get arrested and you don't even tell me, and
all you can say is 'oh, dear'?" Ray was half watching the traffic and
partly facing Benton. 

"Sorry? No, it was just we weren't told why we were being asked some,
rather strange questions. Did they find anything?" 

"No. What gives?" 

"Well, it didn't seem important. It's not the sort of thing that one says
right off. 'Morning, Ray. Last night I got arrested.' Doesn't sound right,
does it?" 

"Okay, I guess not. I'm just ticked from hearing it from Huey; I mean, the
leatherbar finally is old news and now this." 

"Leatherbar?" Tracy interjected. 

"Some teenager Bennie was sitting gave him the slip and next thing I know,
we've got a drug bust breathing down our necks. The only good thing was
having enough cuffs for the bad guys who had tailed along for the ride." 

"So what are you checking up on, or shouldn't I know?" 

Ray thought about that; it was one thing discussing cases with Bennie, but
he was a cop, even if a Canadian cop. *Well, I need some information, so
I'll feed him some.* "Trying to find out why the raid was set up; I can't
go into the details." 

"I understand. Can I know what maleficence was suspected?" 

"Yeah, you were picked up, might as well know why. Besides the usual drug
and alcohol stuff, they thought there were boys on offer. It's written
pretty vague, whole laundry list of offenses." 

"I see why the raid; even the possibility would have to be checked out.
You said they didn't find any evidence of it, though?" 

"Nada. That's the problem; somebody should have gone undercover to check
it out first." 

 

"Hey, I'd wondered what happened to you two. What can I get you?" 

"Pint for me, and the usual for him." 

"Actually, I'll have a beer." They'd agreed, while Vecchio was washing his
hands, they needed to talk after work. So they were in their old pub, at
the regular time. 

"Where to start? Your call." 

"With the case; I think that's clearer cut. What are the options?" 

"Let's focus on those Ray won't come up with. Top of the list, someone's
parents aren't happy with their son's choice of company." 

Fraser looked at Tracy blankly, and realizing his beer had arrived, took a
small drink. 

"Well, for starters, no undercover detail. And, given the timing, no one
was going to be there. It's no secret that some parents aren't real happy
when they discover their teen son is gay. I don't like thinking someone's
parents would stoop so low, but it is a possibility." 

"Any others?" 

"Can't think of anything else Ray wouldn't come up with. Lt. Welsh
wouldn't have handed it to him otherwise. There you have your basic
harassment, a land deal, or someone out making voter points. I've been
surveying American TV." 

"I thought that would take longer. Next order of business?"  

In the end, they'd decided they weren't going to be budged so easily. The
only concession was not being the sole chaperons; a decision that had
already been made by the owner and the dykes. Otherwise, they weren't
going to abandon ship because a shot across the bow. If it was Tracy's
option, somebody would need to see integrity in action. 

Regardless, Benton's thoughts were troubled. Tracy and he hadn't been
dating that long, and already the issue of what other people might think
was pressing in on them. Hard. It was one thing to be discrete; that was
really just a form of politeness. It was another wondering if their other
spaces weren't really their's. Fraser was torn about not telling Ray,
particularly since now, it meant he couldn't share Tracy's theory. 

"Son, how are you?" 

"Hi, dad. Okay. Worried." 

"Is it about your, friend? The new one, I mean." 

"No, not exactly. Are you unhappy about this?" 

"Why do you ask? Well, I won't lie to you, I'm not thrilled, which if he
was a woman, I would be. On the whole, I am glad that he seems to be good
for you." *Dammit, I want grandchildren. But he doesn't need guilt from a
dead man.* 

"I just wanted to know. I haven't told Ray. And now he's on a case that I
might be able to help him on, except..." 

"You're not coming forward with information about a crime..." 

"Of course not. Though maybe it is the same thing. It isn't an official
case; he's trying to find the motive for a illegal bust, and all we have
is a theory." 

"That is a tough one. If your theory is right, will they try it again?" 

"Doubtful. I don't think Lt. Welsh would authorize another attempt without
hard evidence. Also, I don't think they'd risk exposing their son; it
would be sort of self-defeating." 

"Why haven't you told Ray?" 

"At first, it was so sudden. We're all working together. I'm not sure how
he is going to take it." 

"What does your date say?" 

"He says it is my decision, that I'm a better judge of how it'll affect
Ray." 

"So he's willing to deal with the consequences if you do tell Ray? Part of
it is figuring out if you want to make him do that?" 

"Yes. And whether knowing, is just going make Ray uncomfortable." 

"Can you think of a time when you'd have to tell him? Not because of a
case, but just because he is your friend?" 

"Yes. I'm just not sure if I should tell him before that." 

"Spit it out boy, when would you have to tell him?" *He is so frustrating
at times.* 

Fraser screwed his courage up. "When he ceases being my date and is my
lover. Or it's moving there." *

I think I just got some extra information; don't react to it.* "When it's
sure you're a courting?" 

"I think that would be only right." Benton noticed his father's shade had
left again.  

"Hello Tracy, there you are Benton, come in the both of you. What's this,
you shouldn't have." Ma Vecchio gestured to the large fruit basket Tracy
was carrying. 

"You are so kind to invite me; besides, I wanted to share a little of my
home with yours." 

"Raymando, caro, come so I can take their coats. Your mother must be so
proud of you." With that, she planted a big kiss on Tracy's cheek. "See
what he brought." 

*Great, I've got polite Cannucks and Kiwis bearing gifts.* "New Zealand
produce? 

"It'll be summer soon." 

Ma Vecchio distributed her guests around the table, placing Tracy close at
hand, which suited Frannie just fine. She'd been a little perturbed Ray
hadn't brought the professor over as much; after all, she reasoned, he was
much further from home than Benton. If he was going to be that way, she'd
have to move faster. 

Tracy was having a pretty good time; okay, it would be better if the
Constable was neighbored... *That is a hand on my thigh. Frannie. Let's
try moving it back. Done. Now she has my hand.* Tracy flashed a purple
'help' across the table. 

"Could you pass me the green beans, Francesca?" 

*Rats. Why now?* Frannie let go, and passed the dish down. *Fine, I have
feet.* She toed off a shoe and toyed with the professor's cuff. 

*Why me?* Tracy tried moving the leg, but there was only so far it could
go without leaving the other one open for attack. *Let's try Ray.* 

Ray caught the signal, the international Frannie alert. *If Tracy's using
it, he must be in trouble.* "Frannie, how about getting some more mashed
potatoes, from the kitchen." *Had her shoe off? Goes from bad to worse.* 

Frannie set the potatoes down right by Ray, and returned to her seat. 

"Tracy, this will be your first winter Christmas?" Ma could tell it was
time to jump start the conversation, as a lull had developed. 

"Yes, ma'am. Our winter starts in June." 

"Maybe we'll have a white Christmas this year." Frannie piped in. 

"That would be nice, a perfect winter Christmas, for our visitor." Ma
smiled at Tracy." 

"I take that isn't a sure thing?" 

"In Chicago, nothing is a sure thing. The weather, it goes double." 

"Caro, please. I bet Benton would also like a white Christmas, yes?" 

"I think we might need dogsleds if the Constable got his wish." Tracy
winked. 

"What makes it Christmas in New Zealand?" Maria piped in, the children
calm for a second. 

"The pohutakawas bloom large red flowers, and we have pavlova." 

"Pahthooeys?" Ray couldn't resist. 

"Pohutakawas. You'd think after two years with Fraser you'd be used to
these long names; I think you do it on purpose." 

"I'd have to agree, especially with the fact Tracy's have the syllables
very apparent." 

"All written with Italian vowels; we are on to you, detective." 

After way too much food, the meal was over. Benton took Tracy aside. "What
was she doing?" 

Not seeing anyone, Tracy started a demo. "When Ray sent her to the
kitchen, she was playing footsie." 

"You brave man." Double-checking, he dashed a kiss to the forehead. 

"My hero." Tracy snaked an arm around his waist. 

Somehow, they forgot to keep checking for Vecchios as they got a little
over-involved in their game. It was Tracy who noticed first. 

Ray was shocked speechless. When Fraser tried to explain, he found his
voice and it was angry. "Out, get out!" The next thing he knew, he was
sitting on the stairs, just muttering to himself. When his mom asked what
was wrong, he stormed upstairs, and slammed his door shut.  

They sat in the only open coffee shop they could find, nursing their mugs
as if it would take the chill off. 

"I'm so very sorry." 

"I was there, too." 

"He may calm down, once he gets off the initial shock." 

"Maybe." Of all the ways for Ray to find out, this had to be one of the
worst, Fraser thought. Worse still would have been someone else catching
them.  

Lt. Welsh wasn't going to take much more of this. Spotting a flash of red,
he went to his door and peeked out. *Not Big Red, one of the other
Mounties.* It had been going on for two weeks, best he could tell. He had
thought the Constable was just overly busy with the holiday influx of
Canadian tourists and dignitaries. Except, the wolf wasn't around
mooching, either. Ray seemed to spend every lunch at his desk. 

"Caro, we talk now. Why did Benton and Tracy leave in a rush?" 

Ray tried to ignore his mother. Which just made her want to talk more.
Eventually, he gave in to get it over with. "Why couldn't he have just
told me? Couldn't he have just told me the truth?" 

"What Raymando? What are you talking about?" 

"I caught them. You shouldn't find out that way. Especially not..." 

"Hush, caro. What was it? You can tell me." 

"I can't. I mean, Fraser always tells the truth. It's like the rise and
setting of the sun. He didn't tell me; what does that tell you?" 

"That he didn't want to upset you. Couldn't figure out what to say. And it
seems he was right to be worried." 

Ray just looked at his mom, blinking. Trying to figure out if she knew. 

"Not until you yelled at him; you should be ashamed, him your best friend.
Same for Tracy, the dear man. Is it a wonder; I found out Frannie- but I
suspect you know that. Did you really need the mashed potatoes?" 

"You'd think I'd know. I am a detective." 

"And he's a Mountie, and the other a Professor. Does it upset you?" 

"It very well does. I thought Bennie was my best friend, and Tracy was
okay too." 

"He's not your friend because he's happy?" Ray stared at her. "Haven't you
noticed that? Dear, you have to remember how Fraser came down here. Yes,
in comparison, he started looking happy. You must now know the
difference?" 

"Ma," 

"What is it going to be? Either you apologize, or admit you were never
really his friend. What's more, since Maria and the kids are visiting with
Tony's parents this year, I expect to see some hearty appetites at my
table. I'm serious. Benton doesn't have any living family besides us, and
Tracy is a world away from his."  

"Get in the car! Please. We need to talk." Ray was at the Consulate,
waiting through the bells, and then a little more. Benton came over and
got in. Ray merged back into traffic. "Can you tell me one thing, would
you have ever told me?" 

"Yes, Ray. I would have; I've been concerned about that for awhile. I
didn't mean for you to find out this way." 

"And just when would you have told me?" 

"When we'd been dating longer." 

"I'm not talking about Tracy yet; when would you have told me?" 

Benton just looked at Ray. "I'll say it then; when would you have told me
that you're gay? Damn it, haven't we been through enough to tell me?" 

"I couldn't have told you much earlier; we've really only been dating a
little over a month. It depends how you count." 

It was Ray's turn to stare, which as the driver, was a little dangerous.
"You aren't telling me..." 

"Didn't know. Might have never known. Really." 

*This is too weird.* "How did you find out?" 

"That's a little personal. Maybe, we'll tell you someday." 

*I'll buy that.* "Feel okay telling me when?" 

"About three months ago." 

"I'm sorry Bennie; if I'd know that, well, maybe I'd have understood
better you not telling me. I'd like to believe I would have. Ma wanted me
to tell you, the two of you are invited to Christmas. The kids will be out
of the house and everyone else knows. You won't have to worry about
fending off Frannie anymore." Ray winced. "That probably wasn't real
nice?" 

"You have to apologize to him." 

"Have him come by the station. Pick you up in the morning?" 

"Thank you kindly."  

*There's one of them, finally. Is Ray going... Yes.* Lt. Welsh smiled that
once more, things were getting back to the usual abnormal. 

"Okay, let's talk." Ray got up from the desk and led out to the storage
closet. *Sheesh* Opening the door for Tracy, he followed him in. "First, I
want to apologize for the way I acted. I didn't know, and I didn't know he
didn't know until just recently. Second, I want to point out, that if you
hurt him, I'll track you down. Third, want to try another holiday with the
Vecchio's?" 

It, strangely, took Tracy a few beats to comprehend all that. "You okay
with this?" 

"No, not really. I gave up on okay a couple years ago; eventually I'll get
used to this too. What about the rest of it?" 

"It was no way for you to find out; I'm sorry about that. I can only
promise to do my best." Tracy caught on the last one. 

"Ma's okay, I doubt Frannie really matters, and besides me, you two round
us out. We can always put you in the snow, if you need to cool down." 

"Done. Now, can we get out of the closet and go to lunch?"  

They decided that after all that, it was time for a celebration. Given the
holiday season however, they figured 'The Merry Publican' was about all
the stress they could take. It so happened the band playing was a more
traditional Celtic group, so they got into a little competition of which
of them was the better leader. Which got some of the stand-offish crowd
enthused enough to try their best to copy the basic steps. 

"I think we better sit down for awhile, before our shoes ignite." 

"That would be a fire hazard." Fraser slid from his serious mask into a
boyish smile, and they walked back to their table. 

"How you feel, now that Ray knows about us?" 

"Much better. He's really the only family I have, alive anyway. What about
you?" 

"I'm glad he's dealing with it. And that there are people you know who
know about us." 

Fraser gave an interested, inquiring face. 

"Why do you think I wanted pictures; well, one reason. My best friend was
begging for details." 

"He wasn't shocked?" 

"Don't ever let her hear that. No, she's been wishing for years that I'd
find a good man." Tracy kissed his hand. 

"Excuse me, are you Ben and Trey?" They looked at the polished, silver
coiffed woman. "I'm Jayce's grandma. I wanted to thank you, for showing
him that power has nothing on character. He's learned alot about
commitment and being a real man from you two." With a quick clasp of the
hand for each of them, she turned and walked out. 

Fraser and Tracy shaked hands stalwartly, and then pulled into a kiss with
their left hands. 

"Shall we dance?" Benton did his best formal Mountie, which Tracy
mirrored, taking lead when they got back to the floor. 

"It'll be nice not pretending our way through Christmas and still spending
it with others. I'd like to skip the faculty party and spend the time with
you." When he started to speak, he was silenced with a kiss. "They'd
recognize you; otherwise, I wouldn't give a fig. I'm not interested in
sharing you with the media. Public accolades of your daring-do excepted."
With that, Tracy dipped and kissed him.  

*Okay, one more of these exciting gatherings.* Tracy went through the
usual motions of a faculty cocktail party; small talk, raiding the
appetizers. 

"Miss me?" The whisper was warm on Tracy's ear. *Fraser...* It took all of
Tracy's concentration to keep composed, and turn toward him naturally. It
was Fraser all right, but in teal and a long wig. *Where did he find pumps
in his size?* 

"Professor MacKinacmakan, you've been keeping a secret! Pleased to meet
you." After shaking Tracy by the arms in greeting, he took Fraser's hand
to kiss. Then he went off to greet other people. Ms. Fraser looked over in
confusion. 

"I haven't seen him before. Punch?" Tracy offered an arm. 

The party passed good naturedly, and they walked back to Tracy's door,
where Fraser left his date, with a goodnight kiss. 

*That was just a little too odd. Picky, I know, but odd. It was Fraser all
right, but somehow, different.* 

Fraser on the other hand was just a little giddy as he walked
home--casually knocking out a would-be mugger with his purse. He'd learned
that the secret was stockings and not pantyhose.  

"It's disgusting!" Frannie hissed at her brother. 

"I won't have you say that, just don't look." He was startled when she hit
him in the chest. 

"I don't mean that. How happy and cute and repulsive they are, that's
what's disgusting." 

*How true.* Two people very much in love; hell, Bennie was nearly playful,
and Tracy, he was treating it like it was shinty--as much contact as
possible, with necessary roughness. "Point taken. You holding up okay?" 

"Yeah. A little bummed. But it makes sense now. Clearly he needed to be
swept off his feet." 

"Prince Charming gets lifted onto the back of a charger?" Both of them
laughed about that. Then they went back into the parlor. 

Fraser and Tracy were sitting on the floor, leaning against the loveseat.
Since the kids weren't underfoot, they had decided to wait to open
presents until after dinner. Among the paper-wrapped gifts, there were
four intricately tied in printed cloth. Ray took post as the gift hander,
distributing them around. First there were several rounds of simultaneous
unwrapping as gifts from various Vecchio's were handed out, and then they
slowed to one gift being opened at a time. 

"Okay, Bennie, show us what has you blushing. We'll just presume the most
scandalous if you don't." 

Sheepishly, first turning to Tracy for reassurance, Benton held up a set
of bright red longjohns. 

"Those aren't... They are! Silk longjohns, I think I've seen everything."
Ray was a little amazed. He couldn't help himself, so he felt a sleeve. It
was a very heavy weight of knit silk. 

Ma Vecchio was the next to open a gift, this one from Benton. It was a
carved picture frame, with a large central oval, and smaller circles
surrounding it. She cooed in Italian and gave him big kiss on the
forehead. 

Ray decided it was time to bite the bullet and open his from Tracy. *Feels
like a book.* It took him awhile to get the fabric off; he suspected the
professor had done that on purpose. "The Complete Survival Guide. Thanks,
Tracy. I think." As he flipped through the book, he started to brighten.
*This might come in handy.* 

Fraser nodded to Ray to hand Frannie her gift. It was a little awkward for
Ray to get out from under the tree. The card read, 'To Francesca, from the
both of us.' Once she had the cloth off, she found it was an old fashioned
mirrored music box, with a small mechanical scene. She was moved to happy
tears. 

Next Tracy was handed a present, from Benton. Inside, was a brass bound
cask, with a captain's desk set inside. He was promptly rewarded with a
kiss. 

Ray passed his mom Tracy's gift to her. Inside was an intricately carved,
shell-inlaid box. Ma Vecchio showed it all around and was very profuse in
praise to Tracy. 

The last present was Benton's to Ray.  

Soon enough it was nearly the end of January. Ray was waiting to give yet
another round of explanations of odd case reports; somehow, they'd managed
to hit a streak of them. He felt guilty about not getting Bennie down from
the abandoned water tower before New Year's was rung in. It had always
been bad enough when cases swamped holidays; at least he was able to call
Tracy and let him know. 

"Professor, welcome back to the station." Lt. Welsh passed by on the way
to his office. "Detective, I'll want you in my office in an hour." 

"Ray, could you spare me a moment?" 

"Sure. What can I do you for?" Ray caught the glance back to his 'other'
office. "Fine." *What now?* 

Once they were installed, Ray started up. "Is this animal, vegetable or
mineral?" 

"Um, do you know anything about him, wearing dresses?" 

"Why do you ask? Is that something you want him to do; he would, I think
he still has the one from working undercover." 

"And that's it?" When Vecchio gave his 'best that I know' look, Tracy
continued. "I guess that answers that question." Ray wasn't going to let
it go that easily. "Just double checking." *Must have been a bonus
present.* More seriously. "Remember how you said you'd hunt me down? I
just wanted to warn you, that time is probably nigh." 

"Are you two having a spat? I know it can be rough when cases get..." Ray
noticed Tracy was very subdued. "Tell me what's on your mind." 

"There's something Fraser doesn't know, yet, and I know I have to tell
him, but I'm not sure..." 

"If you tell me you're married, I'll shoot you right here." 

"Nothing like that." 

Ray decided to try to lift Tracy's spirits. "Is it a heinous crime?" 

"No. But I am very afraid he won't be able to forgive me. It's something I
should have told him earlier, but it never seemed to be the right time." 

"Look, Tracy. Fraser loves you; I'm sure you know that. As for him
forgiving you... Damn it, I can't believe what you have to tell him is
anywhere near as bad as the time I shot him. He didn't even have to think
before he forgave me." 

"You shot him?" 

"The point is, Bennie can forgive just about anything. It's part of his
nature; hell, sometimes he forgives people who don't deserve it. If you
think you should tell him something, tell him. Don't worry over it; it
won't get any easier, and you'll have fretted for no reason." 

"Okay. Would you bring him, to this place, then?" Tracy wrote some
instructions on a card. "Tell him that it's a Scottish event; he could
wear his great kilt if he wants. Ray, I'd like you to stay on hand, in
case he takes it harder than you think." 

"Right. I'll get him there. Don't worry so much, he'll understand." 

Tracy hoped Ray was right; but wasn't very confident that Fraser would
understand. It was a matter of a very complex truth, which meant there was
virtually a lie, him not being told this one, detail. Putting a long coat
on, Tracy left to have one of the hardest talks you could possibly have. 

Ray thought this was a strange place to make a vital revelation. *Maybe
this is a set up, something to get me here.* Pretty much everyone was
either in a kilt or a skirt, except for Ray. It seemed to be a combination
party and performance. It took Ray a moment to grasp he wasn't seeing a
woman the spitting image of Tracy, but Tracy dolled up in a velvet corset
and a plaid skirt, with a shoulder drape of the same material.
*Everybody's a cross-dresser!* Tracy curtsied to the two of them and took
Bennie onto the floor, though away from the group dances. Ray tried to
figure out how it was going, but there was just too much plaid swirling
around; half the time he'd find he was wasn't even watching the right
pair. *Imagine being able to lose him while he is wearing that.* Next
thing he knew, Fraser was leaving like a man struck blind. Before he could
go after him, Benton had gotten caught by a group dance short a man.
*They'll be able to hold him for awhile.* He had some questions for Tracy.


Tracy was actually crying by the time Vecchio got there, dabbing with a
ladies' hanky. Ray decided to try to find a more quiet spot to ask about
it, and drew the professor aside. Once Tracy started to sit, Ray noticed.
It was certainly a shock, but the curiosity of the matter took some of the
edge off. "Um, Tracy," He flicked his eyes, back between the top of the
corset and the teary eyes. "Are those, you know?" 

"Yes, Ray. They are." 

*Oh dear.* "A little body work?" Vecchio was desperate for some banter
right now; and that's how it sounded. Desperate. 

"I think we had better dance; less chance of being overhead. Did he storm
off completely?" 

Ray reassured as they got on the floor. "No, a group of dancers nabbed
him; should be stuck there for awhile." A silent moment was spent as Tracy
pulled him through leading, and Ray picked up the bare basics. "What is,
well, the story?" *Clearly, they haven't been moving very fast.* Tracy
didn't start right in. "You know, your two friends there?" Since they were
the topic of discussion, Ray decided it was okay to stare a little. At
first he thought it was just very good work. *A little too good...*
"Tracy, it's true, isn't it? Oh, g-d!" It was lucky they were dancing, or
Ray would have been windmilling about. 

"Yes. But it isn't that simple." Ray started getting real big eyes. "Not
that complicated." 

"I'd think that would be pretty simple. You made him go through all that?
You're right, I do have to hunt you down." Still, Ray was confused enough
about what was going on, not to carry it out just yet. 

"Ray, I've lived as a man nearly as long as you have. Just wasn't a boy
when I was little." Ray was really freaking his face. "Ascriptive gender,
Ray. I told you how I was initiated into the the ritual knowledge of the
Maori, because of a vision? Well, when they found out I was a girl, they
assigned me into the male category." 

"Wouldn't that just affect the Maori?" *I am learning way too many weird
things these days.* 

"Usually, yes. But it got transferred onto some school records, and it
just snowballed from there. And it wasn't like I socialized much except
with the Maori children; there were very few pakeha out there. You
understand this must be kept an absolute secret, right?" 

Ray did understand. Every professional contact Tracy had, knew
MacKinacmakan as a man. Lived socially as a man; that would go real well
with the boys at the bar. "On Fraser's honor. How many people know?" 

"My brothers, my best friend, and you two. Besides my parents of course." 

*Good G-d! Sweet Mother.* "In all that time, have you been able..." 

"As a mystery woman, in the circuit. Keep on eye on him."  

Ray tried to keep his friend occupied, as he churned through this strange
revelation. Ray himself wasn't sure how he felt about the situation. He
was angry with how this was affecting his best friend. Still, he had to
allow some sympathy for Tracy. Hurting Benton wasn't planned; just a
natural outcome of a bizarre situation. Ray thought about how alone Fraser
had been before their unlikely friendship; he couldn't help feeling the
same way about Tracy. In that, they were so very much alike, for such very
different reasons. 

Fraser knew Ray was guarding him, making sure he didn't do anything rash,
outside of the usual, crime-solving variety. While he felt slightly
patronized by it, mostly it was comforting. With the turmoil inside him,
he needed a thick calm between himself and the world. The logical part of
him had forgiven Tracy for not telling him. That didn't take very long.
That Tracy hadn't tried seducing him as a woman, while associating with
him as a man, was in the professor's favor. *Duplicity would have been
unforgivable.* And it was not an actual lie, even by omission; more than
twenty years had its own weight of truth. No, Tracy was every inch Tracy
throughout it all, regardless of what or what not he knew. The real
problem, was he? 

Constable Benton Fraser had fallen for a man; or had he? Could he have
subconsciously known? That made the night of the ball even worse; except
that Tracy being a man didn't excuse in the slightest what happened. *Who
am I?* He didn't know the answer; he'd always been sure in the past. Not
that this particular department was a strong suit. He had thought he was
in love once before, but it was something else. There had been a certain
something with Inspector Thatcher, that fizzled in its course. Did he even
know what love was? If he didn't, he couldn't, in honesty, portray himself
as being in love. 

 

Ray wasn't sure how he felt about Tracy. *Still is the same person, but
not the same person.* She had done a real number on the Mountie. Hell, Ray
was spinning and he hadn't been dating the guy. *Guy?* How could he still
think of Tracy that way? *I hate the British.* However, as the exhibit
continued to be a concern, Ray took up being the go-between with regards
to any changes. 

 

*I can't go on like this.* He kept going round and round in circles. What
this situation said about him. Whether this change mattered. Where this
could possibly lead. He was lost, and needed to be guided out. *Guided.*
He wished either he could go north, or get Eric to come south; but both
had other responsibilities. *I am going to have to do this, myself.* 

Ray had decided to drop by West Rancine and see how Fraser was coping.
When he opened the door, he saw the sweat lodge. *Wait. I don't see any
excess gear. That means...* Part of him wanted to make sure Bennie was
alright, that he wasn't parboiling himself in some bizarre suicide rite.
The rest of him suspected interrupting wouldn't be a good idea. 

The visions were very confusing. Scenes were jumbled together; Fortitude
Pass, the train headed for nuclear destruction, the series of vindictive
acts Victoria directed at Ray, Dief and himself, the Inspector's various
chores, and others. Images from his childhood faded in and out. Ray would
cross at strange moments. Of Tracy and himself, he saw the kiss in the
elevator, his kiss of Tracy. 'They'll recognize you.' Saw Tracy drag him
from the floor, get food into him and go through another round of
contestation, before bundling him off. *I didn't remember that.* 'We can
go slow; no one has to know who you are.' 'You are a good man, only you
can chose to stay that way.' The concern of protecting his uniform. Then,
pieces flashed, Victoria, followed by Tracy. Thatcher, followed, by Tracy.
Then, there was just him in his dress reds, in a field of unmarked snow.  

Ray was fidgeting at his desk, sort of paying attention to the details
Tracy half heartedly was going over. *He should have reached a decision.*
Fraser had been stand-offish since the evening Ray saw the sweat lodge; he
had seen it wasn't still up. Since then, he'd been asking Tracy to come by
during Fraser's break. Hoping Bennie would come by and say his piece. But
still he hadn't. 

Elaine knew something was up; there were these, hiccups, between Benton,
Tracy and Ray. "Hello. Yes. Yes. Goodbye." She hung up the phone and got
up. *I wonder why.* 

Lt. Welsh was trying to figure it out. Red had disappeared again; though
after a particularly intensive spate of assists, on the heels of another
impressive set of cases. If it wasn't for the professor coming down every
day, he'd think the Inspector had found something for her officer to do.
*There's Red now, just as Tracy is about to leave.* 

Benton had finally come to a decision. He had thought about the visions,
their meaning and what action to take. Now was the moment. Instead of his
usual greetings, he entered quietly, nodding to Elaine, noticing the
camera behind her phone. Tracy was just getting up, and turning to leave. 

The Constable met the Professor with a tight embrace and deep kiss. Elaine
was shooting the whole flashless roll of film, while a stunned group of
detectives looked on. When it was over and they were straighten their
jackets, all that could be heard was Ray shouting, "What? It's
Valentine's. Don't you have some work to do?" Tracy exited, and Fraser
took over the chair by Ray's desk. Return to Archive