Breath Of Forgiveness   

Disclaimer: Kowalski, Fraser and all things due South belong to people
with a lot more money and more lawyers than me, please don’t sue it won’t
get you anywhere. However, I’d like to put in a plea for Kowalski if you
ever get bored of him *bg* 

Rating: R? Bad language and m/m relationship (no sex, sorry!) so I guess R
is right, yeah? 

Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski (I’ve been told that’s a good choice *L*) 

Author's Notes: This is a companion piece to Don’t Plan To Cry, told from
Frase’s POV this time, I just hope I got him right (he’s harder to get
than Ray). Going with the theme of naming the stories with lyrics from
songs on the Two Houses album (it’s still on repeat) this is called Breath
Of Forgiveness.
 Many, many, many thankyou kindlies to all those who mailed me with get
well soon wishes, positive feedback and encouragement - this is for you.
I’d also like to thank Paul Gross and Callum Keith Rennie for their
portrayals of Fraser and Ray, without you the world would be a darker
place. Although I’m willing to bet this kinda thing wasn’t the reaction
you were expecting *w* 

I know you’re supposed to wait a decent amount of time before posting a
companion or sequel, but they wouldn’t stop buggin’ me and it’s a little
difficult to concentrate on Broadcasting Theories when they won’t leave
you alone in lectures ... is nowhere sacred?! Besides you know what they
say about fanfiction; it's a harder habit to kick than cocaine *w*
 Once again this wasn't betaed so any mistakes are mine. 

All comments, advice (on the story, not my mental health) and flames to
wylt@hotmail.com, I need feedback like Kowalski needs Frase, gimme! 

Breath Of Forgiveness (c) Wylt, October 1999. 

    

As I screamed down that interstate
 Howling your name to the wind
 My heart reached out and slammed on the brakes
 In a spin rage cannot win
 I knew I’d never hurt you again
 
 Time will heal this world that we made
 But how high the price we paid
 All I ask is a breath of forgiveness
 As I walk away
   

  

He leant his head back against the pillow of the small cot in the corner
of his office, sighing deeply. The pain inside his chest was eating away
at him, destroying his strength and leaving only bitter worry and sadness
in its wake.
 His reason told him that Ray hadn’t meant the words, he was ill and as a
result irritated, striking out, as Ray was wont to do, without thinking.
But that didn’t help the pain he was feeling from being so forcibly
ejected from his partner’s apartment. Ray had sworn at him, loudly and
colourfully, yelling at the top of his lungs with his face so close he
could have leaned forward the inch that separated them and pressed his
lips to Ray’s, given in to the urge and tugged on that distracting lower
lip until the Four Horsemen heralded the Apocalypse.
 But he hadn’t. Instead he’d retreated behind his walls and left, hardened
his heart against the hurt and walked out. Turned his back when Ray needed
him, because the pain of being in his presence was too much. Because he
was a coward.
 The fear of rejection coloured his every waking moment. Not just Ray’s
rejection of him if he discovered his feelings for him. But fear of
rejection in general, of his touch, his presence, his manner. Everyone he
had ever let get close to him had left him. His mother, his father ...
intellectually he knew his mother had had no choice, but the child who’d
been left behind was still inside him. The hurt was still there. The fact
that his father had chosen to come back after his death was neither here
nor there. And there were times when it felt like too little, too late, as
the saying went. Not to mention the sheer irksomeness of his usually
unhelpful advice. His father had abandoned him before, and now that he was
dead there was nothing to stop him from doing it again. 
 Victoria, Ray Vecchio; they had both left him of their own free will. His
lover and his brother. Only Ray had stayed with him, Ray and Diefenbaker.
But there was only so much affection one could have for a wolf. So he
tried to keep everyone at bay, carefully hiding behind his defences, his
politeness, his aloofness. Except that Ray hadn’t played by the rules.
He’d ignored and then kicked his way through all of his walls, demanding
that he particpate in, respond to, the world around them. Except that,
too, had backfired. Because it wasn’t the world, but Ray he responded to.
Ray with his “experimental hair”, Ray with his quicksilver moods, Ray with
his pale blue eyes that could appear to stare right into your soul that
had made him feel like a real person and not a concept. He wasn’t the
Perfect Mountie. He’d tried, but God knew he was only human. Victoria more
than proved that point. As did the fact that he had fallen in love, once
again, with the wrong person. He was like a moth to a flame when it came
to love, it pulled at him with a call he could not deny. However, whereas
Victoria had been dark, possibly even evil, had been a criminal, Ray was
not. He was a hyperactive bundle of nervous energy that stormed through
his life, with his small friendly touches and brilliant smile. The only
reason Ray was the wrong choice was because he was a man, a very smart and
achingly sexy man, but a man all the same. And for the homophobic
environment they both worked in that was unacceptable. His choice was
unacceptable. Particularly when the object of his affection was not only
unaware of his feelings, but a divorcee who still loved his ex-wife and
always would. He knew that Ray was no longer *in* love with Stella, but
the fact that he *had* loved her, had married her, and still did love her
spoke volumes of the kind of person he would fall for. And that didn’t
include men.
 He didn’t know when he’d fallen for the blonde Detective, when Ray had
smashed his way through his defences and taken up residence inside his
heart. He just knew that he did. He needed Ray, needed the constant
challenges that the other man threw at him, needed that wonderfully
compassionate heart that he hid behind the gruff exterior. Their
relationship - working relationship, he quickly amended - was a confusing
mixture of instinct and intellect that somehow managed to work. They were
like two pieces of a puzzle, only when they were together was the whole
picture visible ... complete. Ray completed him, and he hoped that Ray
felt the same way about him, at least when it came to their work. It was
too much to hope that he would return his love. 
 His eyes slowly focused on the ceiling above him, and he stifled a second
sigh without conscious thought, wondering how Ray was feeling. Calmer, he
hoped with a small smile. He himself was so rarely ill that he tended to
forget how anxious and irritable it could make you. He should have
expected that, should have expected that reaction from Ray and not stifled
him. But, typically, he’d worried despite Ray’s assurances that he would
be fine and kept on pushing at him to rest, to eat, to get well until the
temperamental man had exploded. He couldn’t blame him really, he’d pushed
too hard, let his fear for Ray get in the way of his rationalism. If he
lost Ray ... he shook his head, refusing to dwell on if’s, might’s and
maybe’s. Ray’s illness was not serious, there was no threat of death. The
only way he could lose Ray was if he blundered, let his emotions get the
better of him, and he was the master at hiding his feelings, he was up to
the challenge.
 Ray had been badly hurt by his break-up with Stella, his insecurities had
resurfaced stronger and deeper. He wouldn’t be a part of the pain that
shone in Ray’s eyes when he forgot to hide his feelings. So when he’d
pushed Ray too far with his worry, he’d simply offered a silent plea for
forgiveness and walked away. But that had been two days ago. Two days
filled with anxiety, aching loneliness, and absent minded daydreaming that
was starting to show itself in his work. Even Inspector Thatcher was
beginning to notice something was wrong and had banished him to his office
to rest and ‘get over it’.
 He turned his head slightly, resting his gaze on the window and was
startled to discover that dusk had started to fall, the city outside would
still be a hive of activity, brightly lit by the yellow streetlights that
obscured the stars. He missed the stars of the North. Missed the peace,
the simplicity of his life there. But he knew he’d miss Ray more if he
left.
 It didn’t bother him, that the fact that he was in love with another man
indicated that he was gay, or bisexual. That was a term, a label, used by
other people for the most part. To him, it was simply love. There was so
little of it in the world that he would take love wherever he could get
it, whatever the package it came in, despite his complete lack of
experience with same sex relationships, or even relationships in general.
He knew that Ray loved him, in his own way, and for the moment that was
enough. The privilege of being allowed to spend time with him, work with
him was enough to quiet the longing in his soul. But he dreaded the day
when it would no longer content him to play a small part in Ray’s life,
because he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that day would never come.
There was also the possibility that Ray would find someone else, a woman,
and settle down with her. Remarry, have the children he had always wanted,
and be happy. If *that* day ever came he knew he’d die. Maybe not
physically, but the part of him that could love would shrivel up and fade
away. He would leave, return to his frozen home - a man with a heart of
ice, never to be warm again. It seemed fitting, all things considered.
 He felt cold suddenly, wrapping his arms around his body in an attempt to
warm himself, dispell the fear at losing Ray. But he was certain that
would be the outcome if he revealed his true feelings. What did he have to
offer? He couldn’t fulfill Ray’s dream of children. He couldn’t even offer
him a relationship that was publicly acceptable, it would be a secretive
and deceitful tryst that would be frowned upon by all their friends and
family if they ever found out. There would be no touches whilst in public,
no hugs, nothing to throw suspicion on them that anything untoward was
happening. And he couldn’t ask that of Ray, wouldn’t ask that. Ray
deserved something so much better than he could offer, than he could give.
So he would bide his time until the day came that he could no longer keep
quiet and then he would leave to mourn the shattered partnership that
meant so much to him.
 He stared out of the window, up at the clouds that glowed with the
reflective light of the city, but his eyes saw only Ray. Vibrant Ray who’s
deceptively slim body reverberated with life. He watched quietly as Ray
turned, his angluar face lit up with his rare smile, and saw him watching.
He held his breath as those pale blue eyes widened, as unbelievably the
smile expanded to encompass him and a graceful hand rose, long fingers
reaching. For him. He bit back a sob, the daydream was unobtainable and it
was foolish of him to torture himself this way, but he couldn’t help it.
 The desire to see Ray was suddenly overwhelming, as was his worry about
his partners health. Rolling off the cot and to his feet in one graceful
movement he unhooked his jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged
into it. Dief lifted his head from his paws and looked up at him
questionningly.
 ‘I’m just going to check on him. We won’t stay long. Besides you need a
walk after all those potato chips you consumed this afternoon.’ Dief
whined pathetically, and lay his head back down. ‘I know that it’s cold
outside, but you’re an Arctic Wolf for God’s sake.’ When the wolf refused
to move he let his head drop back, closing his eyes briefly in
frustration. ‘Fine. I’m sure that Ray has some cookies in his apartment
that I’m certain he wouldn’t mind sharing with you.’ The wolf bounded to
his feet, his long tail waving enthusiastically and he bit back a sigh. It
was a strange world when you had to bribe a wolf to do anything with junk
food.
  

It was cold outside, the streets covered with a thin layer of snow and a
treacherous frost. Above him the moon was battling with the fast moving
clouds to show her face. The brisk air cheered him, and he could feel the
skin on his face turning a healthy red. Dief trotted obediently by his
side, occassionally racing ahead a few paces and then running back to join
him in an effort to get him to walk faster. By the time he reached Ray’s
apartment building the cold air was burning in his lungs, but he forgot
about the slight discomfort when he caught sight of all the activity
buzzing about outside. Fear rose to choke him as an ambulance pulled up, a
paramedic jumping out to open the back doors for another man wearing the
bright green jumpsuit of the emergency services. His first thought was
that Ray’s illness had been worse than he’d realised, that his friend had
collapsed and was now being rushed to hospital. That what they’d both
thought to be flu had become pneumonia. And he’d left him. A keening wail
started from somewhere inside of him before he managed to clamp down on
it, and get his brain working. There were police cars parked outside, too
many for a simple illness. Something else had happened. He stumbled
forward a step as someone pushed past him, an automatic apology springing
to his lips, and found himself reaching out, instead, to ask them what had
happened. Suicide, someone had jumped off the roof. He managed to mutter a
thankyou kindly as the irrational fear surged through him once more, even
as he knew that it wouldn’t have been Ray. It couldn’t.
 He pushed through the crowd to race up the stairs, his body shaking
uncontrollably. He listened carefully when he reached the door to Ray’s
home, but he couldn’t hear anything despite a dim light shining weakly
under the door. He knocked, calling Ray’s name, but there was no answer
and his fear became terror. He’d just begun banging against the wooden
portal when, roused by the noise he was making, Ray’s landlady appeared.
He explained about Ray’s illness, and she kindly disappeared to fetch the
master key, letting him into Ray’s apartment. He failed to notice the
understanding look she threw at him as he tore through all the rooms
looking for his friend, and missed the small sigh of regret as he emerged
from the bedroom after finding it deserted with his shoulders slumped. She
patted him gently on the arm, then offered to let him stay and wait until
Ray came home. He nodded gratefully, holding himself together until she
left and then went to stand by the window to wait.
 The living room smelled of cigarette smoke, and despite the fact that he
knew Ray didn’t smoke there was an ashtray, a packet of cigarettes and a
lighter lying on the small coffee table, mocking what little he knew of
his friend. He wondered angrily who’s they were, Ray’s or someone elses?
 The rattle of keys outside the door broke his reverie, but he chose to
remain looking out of the window, or rather at the reflection cast by the
small lamp in the corner. 
 He watched motionless as Ray tiredly pushed open the door, turning only
when he realised how depressed his friend seemed. Involuntarily he took a
step forward, relieved beyond words to see that his friend was, physically
at least, still in one piece. Ray’s glance flicked past him to settle on
Dief curled in a corner, then moved back to study his face. Before he
could do or say anything Ray’s spine curled under the force of a coughing
fit that suddenly overpowered his body and he leant back against the wall
for support as he struggled to catch his breath. Without thinking he
crossed to his side, reaching out to capture the slim wrist of the hand
being held out to him in entreaty. He could feel Ray’s pulse, fast and
strong beneath his fingers as he tugged that shuddering body against him,
unable to stop himself. Ray needed him, needed his support. And that’s
what he’d get. He rubbed gently at his back, soothing and relaxing the
taut muscles. When he was certain that the fit was over he tugged at the
wrist still cradled between his fingers, drawing him over to the couch
where he made him lay down. Not trusting his voice, his emotions still too
raw, he kept silent, content to just *be*. Removing Ray’s shoes he was
surprised to see twin wet patches on the knees of Ray’s jeans, wherever
he’d gone he’d been kneeling in the snow. Or was that collapsed? Had he
collapsed to his knees when his illness got too much?
 Ray’s eyes closed, his chest heaving as he slowly regained control of his
breathing. He left him, moving to push shut the front door and stop the
cold draft from the outside hallways from dispelling what little warmth
there was in the apartment. He entered the kitchen, filling the kettle,
his mind preoccupied by the heat he had felt rising from Ray’s skin when
he’d touched him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ray struggle to sit
up, eyes still closed and hurried over to push him gently back into the
cushions. Long eyelashes swept up, startled, at his touch and he smiled
gently.
 ‘Lay down, Ray.’
 Ray shook his head, gesturing wildly for the box of tissues on top of the
TV. He could feel him fighting the light pressure of his hand against his
shoulder and he snatched it away.
 ‘Lemme up Frase, ‘less you want me to die of asphyxiation.’ 
 The sentence was gasped, that nasal voice that he had come to love was
hoarse and sore and he began to cough once more. He hurried to pass him
the tissues as requested, his back stiffening as their hands brushed. He
retreated back to the kitchen, leaning against the wall to support himself
against the worry threatening to overwhelm him and forced his features to
go blank. Ray didn’t need him to protect him, he didn’t need him to look
after him. But he found he couldn’t help himself.
 ‘That’s what smoking does to you, Ray.’
 Ray groaned, falling back onto the sofa and he smiled affectionately.
Obviously Ray was expecting a lecture, but he wouldn’t do that. Ray could
make his own choices. The best thing you can do for those you love is set
them free. If they choose to stay then so much the better. ‘How are you
feeling?’
 ‘Like shit.’ Ray’s voice was muffled as it floated to him over the couch.
 ‘Have you eaten?’
 ‘No appetite.’ He bit back a sigh. If Ray wouldn’t look after himself how
could he expect his friend not to try. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t
not care. The need to leave stabbed at his heart, he felt trapped. Damned
if he stayed, damned if he didn’t. 
 ‘Frase?’ Ray’s voice was quiet, an undercurrent of something he couldn’t
decifer making it sound uncertain and he stiffened as the blonde man
joined him. He looked up from the tea he was making, and nodded to
himself. Time to go. Ray had asked him not to smother him, and he had to
get out before he started to do just that, because the worry was knawing
at him.
 ‘I just wanted to check that you were okay, Ray. I’ll go now.’
 He started to brush past the other man, heading for his coat that he’d
draped over a chair, but his path was abruptly halted by a hand clamping
itself around his wrist in what felt like desperation.
 ‘Frase, I’m sorry ‘bout yellin’ at ya. Y’know, the uver day when I tol’
ya to fuck off. I din’t mean it. I’m sorry if I hurt ya, or anythin’.’ 
 The words were low, but sincere, he heard that in his voice and he slowly
raised his head to stare into Ray’s eyes, shocked by what he saw. Dark
hollows circled those pale blue orbs, a sea of pain, fear, loneliness and
need stared back at him. He barely noticed as Ray’s grip around his wrist
loosened and those beautiful hands buried themselves in his shirt.
 ‘Don’t go.’ Ray begged desperately. ‘Please, don’t ...’
 His heart ached for the other man, his defences crumbling against the
hurt and despondency that leaked out in his voice. The love he felt for
this man consumed him, the strength of its fire burning away the fear,
because he knew that Ray would never consciously hurt him, no matter what.
 ‘Ray?’ His hand rose, burying itself in that wonderfully soft blonde hair
that rose in spikes from his scalp. ‘What’s wrong?’
 ‘Drowning.’ Ray gasped, giving him a glimpse into his soul. The
hopelessness in his voice terrified him, as did the black depression he
could feel the other man struggling not to give into.
 ‘What can I do? What do you need?’
 Gently, he pulled him towards him until Ray’s face was buried against the
base of his neck, until those mobile lips with it’s devasting lower lip
pressed against his collarbone.
 ‘You. Need you. Your light.’ Ray whispered the words against him, his
breath leaving a small moist patch against his skin. Then, as the
moistness became dampness and then soaking he realised that Ray was
crying. His beautiful Ray, Golden Ray, sobbing and shuddering against him,
trusting him with his pain, with his need, with his soul.
 His fear shrivelled up and disappeared. There was nothing he wouldn’t do
for this man, nothing he wouldn’t give him. He cradled that deceptively
strong body against him, hands caressing him, offering comfort as he best
he could.
 ‘It’s yours.’
 He lost himself in the forbidden touch, in the feel of Ray trembling
against him, and they sank down to huddle on the floor. He leaned back
against the door, Ray’s head buried in his shoulder and suddenly realised
that he was murmuring comfortingly into Ray’s ear, over and over ... just
repeating the first thing that came into his head as he rocked him back
and forth like a child that refused to sleep, scared of more bad dreams. 
 ‘I love you, Ray. Everything’s going to be alright. I promise.’
 At almost the same time Ray pulled back to gaze up at him with teary eyes
and a tear stained face that only served to make him look even more
endearing. Those eyes searched his for a moment and he held his breath,
not sure what to expect; fear, anger, rejection, all of the above?
 But it seemed to have been the correct thing to say, for those eyes
widened, the smile that he’d dreamed about threatened to split Ray’s face
and his hand rose, long fingers reaching. For him.
 Not even hesitating, he grasped them, twining their fingers together. His
fear and doubts had disappeared, he brushed his lips against Ray's heated
brow and pulled him closer to enfold him in a protective embrace, planning
never to let go. Ever.
  

finis