Disclaimer: With the exception of the drug dealer, Alliance owns these
guys, not me. They will be returned in fairly good condition.... with
minimal injuries. The title is a song by Pyschotica, owned by American
Recordings. Drama, slash, drug use Since drugs(specifically heroin) play a
part in this story I just want to make it clear that I have no medical
background or training. Anything described in here comes purely from some
less than pleasant memories of high school. Now, onto the standard
warning: Rated R for M/M sexual situations, language, and drug use. I
don't get too graphic, but if you're underage or the idea of two men
together offends you, don't read any further. You will go blind. It
happened to someone I know. Oh, you think I'm kidding.... The capacity for
passion is both cruel and divine. -- George Sand 'Intimate Journal' Ice
Planet Hell by Rae 2:33 AM. Constable Benton Fraser lay awake, idly
watching the lazy rotation of the ceiling fan above his head. A warm
summer night breeze wafted through the open window, scenting the room with
the sweet perfume of the season. Hot. It was unreasonably hot. The Chicago
heat could compete with the fires of Hell. Fraser was naked, but
nevertheless perspiring terribly. He couldn't get back to sleep and he was
sure his incessant squirming would wake his peacefully slumbering lover.
It was time to get up; he just couldn't lie still any longer. Fraser
disentangled himself from his lover's arms and sat up, legs dangling over
the side of the bed. This action was countered by a whiny moan of
objection from the slender form beside him. Stanley Ray Kowalski rolled
over, muttering incoherently. Gently laying a hand on the detective's
chest, Fraser bent to kiss him lightly on the ear before getting up and
slipping into a pair of boxer shorts. 

 The hardwood floor of Ray's apartment was warm beneath his feet. He
wandered into the kitchen, in search of a cold drink to relieve his
parched throat and body. From the look of Kowalski's fridge, he hadn't
been grocery shopping in quite awhile. But then he hadn't been home much
these past few weeks either. These past few weeks, he'd practically been
living at Fraser's, coming home only to retrieve clothes and a few
odd-ball items he felt he just couldn't live without. All of which were
now scattered around Ben's spartan domicile. This was the only thing about
the detective that midly annoyed Fraser, his utter lack of organization
and neatness. For instance, leaving his clothes in a rumpled pile on the
floor, as was so often his tendency. Granted, there were many times when
Benny was at fault for this. In heated throes of passion, he would strip
Stanley naked with no throught as to where the clothes landed. But still,
he was always sure to pick up afterward. On the other hand, if it were
left to Ray the clothing would lie there until laundry day. Thinking on
this, Ben had to laugh. Whenever he attempted to reprimand his lover for
these habits, Ray would toss him such an injured expression, that he
regretted his words at once. Whatever it was, Stanley knew his way around
Benny's heart. 

 Smiling to himself, Fraser reached into the fridge and withdrew a
half-empty container of orange juice. God only knew how old it was, but it
felt good going down. He finished the remainder of the juicie and left the
empty container by the door so he'd remember to take it down to the
recycling bin on his way out. 

 He was leaning against the kitchen counter, half-heartedly searching for
something in the way of a healthy midnight snack, when two arms wrapped
themselves around his waist. Ray pressed against his back and lay his chin
on the Mountie's broad shoulder. "Whatchya doing?", he asked. Ben smiled,
placing one hand over Stanley's and stroking the long fingers. "Nothing,
Ray. I apologize if I woke you. This heat is rather uncomfortable."
Kowalski's head rose from his shoulder. "Mm-hmm. You're telling me." he
said quietly, "I'm sweating like a pig." Ray rose to nip at his ear. "It
makes me feel so dirty." Fraser sighed, dropping his head back against
Stanley's. "Hmm," the detective mumbled, "you're sweating , too." A small
shudder escaped the Mountie as he felt the hot silk of Kowalski's tongue
clean the sweat from his shoulderblade in one wonderful stroke. Ray's
hands moved down over his hips now, thin fingers working their way into
the waistband of his boxer shorts. Benton shook his head, grinning. "Oh,
Ray, you're insatiable." he teased, "Aren't you ever satisfied?" Ray
pulled the pretty ear between his teeth again, traced the lobe with his
tongue. "I'm never satisfied, Frase. You should know that by now." At
this, Benny pulled the detective's arms up and held his wrists in a
one-handed grasp. He spun, pushing Stanley up against the wall. Kowalski
gasped, eyes glazed with desire. "I do know, Ray." the Mountie whispered,
"I just have to be reminded sometimes." He kissed the detective and was
received with desperate enthusiasm. Kowalski groaned, smiled as he nipped
and sucked at Benny's tongue. He tasted so sweet. Fraser let go the other
man's wrists and ran his hands over the smooth, hairless chest. With very
little urging and still lip-locked, he moved Ray toward the bedroom. As he
did he scraped his fingernails along his lover's hardened nipples.
Relished the deep, gutteral moan this action inspired. His lover was
beautiful. Wild, sensual and absolutely beautiful. 

 Ray knew perfect harmony when Fraser was inside him. It wasn't just
making love. There was a connection made each and every time that brought
them together on a plane a hundred million miles higher than simple
intimacy. All human frustrations and society's ills seemed to melt away
with Benny's movements, his touch. Every deep thrust, every stroke, every
whispered word of affection and desire had the power to heal him. As he
lay in Fraser's arms, on the very threshold of sleep, he silently thanked
god for bringing him this noble creature that he had come to love more
than life itself. 

 The alarm went off at six. Ray crawled out of bed slowly, mindful of
waking Fraser. Normally the other was up by five, but the heat was taking
its toll on the Canadian. Kowalski showered and changed. Despite the early
hour, he was feeling pretty damn good. Aside from the little spring that
mind-blowing sex put in his step, he was anticipating the fact that today
he, Huey and Dewey were taking down one of the worst drug dealers in
Chicago. Several exhausting weeks of painstakingly gathering evidence had
finally paid off. No more loopholes. Today was the day they nailed Lee
Rankman's ass to the wall. He watched Fraser sleep as he put on his jacket
and gathered his car keys. The Mountie was beautiful, at peace. Ray
perched on the edge of bed, running his fingers through Benny's mussed
hair. He moaned, eyes fluttered open. "Hey, there." Kowalski kissed him,
drew back and kissed him again. "I gotta go." Fraser raised his head
slightly to glance at the clock. "I'm sorry, Ray. ", he murmured sleepily,
"I didn't even hear the alarm go off. I-" Ray silenced his lover with
another soft kiss. "Relax, Fraser. You're supposed to sleep in on your day
off." Benny mumbled something and closed his eyes. Kowalski drew on the
pleasure of watching his lover doze for a few more minutes and then took
off. 

 "We're closing the Rankman file." Welsh was sitting behind his desk,
scribbling something on paper as he spoke to Kowalski. The detective's
eyes grew wide and his jaw nearly hit the floor. "What do you mean?" "I
mean we're closing it. We're shutting down the operation." Ray felt the
blood rush to his face. "Why?" He stopped writing and looked up. "Because
I said so. Don't question me on this, Detective." Kowalski leaned forward,
pressing his palms down on Welsh's desk. "I'm so close. Just let me-"
"Don't question me on this, Detective." Welsh's voice was low, but it held
powerful warning and Stanley silenced himself quickly. "Take the day off.
You look tired." With that the lieutenant went back to his writing. The
conversation was shot dead. There was nothing more to be said. Kowalski
left the office with the flames of anger and injustice burning beneath his
flesh. 

 Lee Rankman was a drug dealer and a cold-blooded killer. He flaunted this
fact openly and everyone knew it. But no one could do a goddamn thing
about it. The man knew his way around the system. He knew which buttons to
push and strings to pull. He had a damn good attorney and a lethal
reputation. He was untouchable. Kowalski wasn't going to back down, not on
this. He'd seen too much of the man's handiwork, it was etched in his
mind. Rankman knew Huey and Dewey; they had questioned him on several
occasions. But Rankman didn't know Ray. Now, there was an angle to be
played..... 

 This incident had considerably soured Ray's mood and he didn't feel like
going back home. He didn't want to talk and the last thing he needed was
Fraser tailing him like a mother cat trying to coax it out of him. He
drove into the dusty tenements where Rankman operated. The bastard made
plenty of money, but maintained base camp here. He had once told Dewey and
Huey this was because the cops didn't give a rat's ass about these
neighborhoods. The ghetto was no man's land as far as the law was
concerned. Recalling that the interest in Rankman had been taken only
after a preppy kid from uptown had overdosed, Ray wondered if the dealer's
insight was right. He sighed deeply and leaned against his car. "Yo,
Stanley!" Ray turned to see Levon Jefferson walking toward him. His face
lit up, bad mood momentaryily forgotten. "Hey, man!", he said, embracing
his former protege."How the hell have you been?" "I've been good. How
'bout you? Don't see you around much no more." "Well, work's been a
bitch." Levon backed away, making a playful attempt at an upper cut. Ray
dodged it, but got caught lightly in the stomach by an underhanded punch.
"You've been practicing.", he said proudly. Levon grinned. "And you're
outta practice, old man." Ray raised an eyebrow. "Shit, I could run
circles around you any day." The kid was still bouncing. "C'mon, man, walk
with me, talk with me." 

 Kowalski folded his arms over his chest and dragged his feet alittle as
he and Levon made their way down the littered streets. The teen chattered
about school, his gang, his girlfriend and his boxing career. Finally,
having a pause to take in a breath, he grew serious. "So what brings you
down here, Five-O? Sure as hell can't be no pleasure trip.", he said,
unable to keep the snide edge out of his remark. Ray stopped walking and
looked at him. "Why do you have to say that?" Levon sighed. "C'mon, man.
The only time you cops take an interest-" Kowalski's jaw tightened; that
comment hurt him more than he would let the kid see. "Hey. You cops?
C'mon, Levon. This is me, Ray, man. I thought I was your boy." Levon
glanced down. "You are my boy, homes. But you're still five-o." He sighed
again. "I'm just saying the only time cops come down here is when some
rich woman got her purse stolen or some little preppy shit got off at the
wrong stop and lost his lunch money." Kowalski looked down, not willing to
defend himself. "What are you doing down here?" "You know Lee Rankman?"
Levon scoffed. "Psycho dealer? Likes to sample more than he sell?" "That
be him." "Yeah. Everyone down here knows him, man. He's dangerous. But
he's been operating here for awhile, why the sudden interest?" Kowalski's
jaw tightened. "A kid from Lincoln Park overdosed on his junk." Levon
threw up his hands in frustration. "See! Man, I knew it." Ray grabbed the
teen by his parka. "I know what he's done here! You think I don't want to
see his head in a noose! Rich, poor, it doesn't mean anything! This isn't
about that! People are dying. We were close, man. So close to bringing him
down!", he growled, "Somehow he found a loop and this morning my
lieutenant tells me I have to back down. But I am NOT backing down, Levon.
I'm gonna get Rankman, even if I have to do it myself." Levon grabbed his
wrists and pushed him away. "Bullshit! You think Rankman can't smell a cop
at a hundred paces?! Who the hell are you, Robocop? You think he's just
gonna let you saunter in and slip the handcuffs on?! He'll kill you!" "I'm
willing to risk that!" "Aw, shit, Ray! Don't be pulling off this martyr
crap! You never lived in the 'hood. You don't know how things work." "Then
help me!" That silenced the teen for a moment, he stared at Ray in horror.
"What?!" "All you'd have to do is get me in." "Hell, no, man! You'll get
us both killed." "Fine. I'll figure it out, find my own way. I'm go in
undercover." Levon scrowled. "Alone?! With no back-up?!" "I am on my own
either way!" "Ray, listen, goddamnit! He will kill you! You may be five-o
and a major pain in the ass, but you are still my boy and I do want to see
you die." "Then help me. Please. Just get me in. That's all you'd have to
do. Sh-" A shrill scream cut him off in mid sentence. Suddenly a pale
woman with sandy blonde hair came running toward them, tears streaming
down her face. "Levon! Oh, God, please help!" The teen took hold of the
hysterical woman. "Theresa, calm down, what's wrong?" Her eyes, filled
with panic darted back and forth between Ray and Levon. "It's J-Jack. I
don't know what's wrong! He's not-he's all blue and. He was using. I think
he got into Dad's stash-" The realization hit Ray and he grabbed her arms.
"Where is he?" "I-In the apartment.", she stuttered. He looked to Levon.
"Bring her and come." Kowalski called for an ambulence as they climbed the
stairs, explaining that it was a heroin overdose, but wisely did not
identify himself as a police officer to the dispatcher. "Who's Jack?", he
asked, as Levon led the way to the apartment. "Her little brother. He's
eleven." The detective looked horrified. "Eleven?!" Levon threw him a
weary grimace. "Welcome to my world, man." 

 Jack was a wiry, pale little thing that resembled a Hallmark Snow Baby.
He was very small and barely weighed in Ray's arms as the detective picked
him up. Theresa had been right. The boy's lips were blue, a thick, slimy
foam was gathering at corners of his mouth. His pupils were like pin
points, not constricting at all. Ray carried the boy down the stairs and
waited for the ambulence. Even as it pulled up the child began to convulse
in his arms and the small eyes rolled back in his head. Kowalski could
only stand and watch as the paramedics strapped him in tight to the bed.
And then he couldn't bear to watch it any longer. 

 Ray was sitting on the hood of his car, face buried in his hands when he
heard Levon's voice. "Theresa thinks you're one of my homeboys from
uptown. I even gave you a fake name. Damon Wolcott. Her old man's gonna
want to meet you. He's one of Rankman's oldest customers. Guy's got shit
for brains. Tell 'im you wanna buy and he'll set it up for you. Just watch
yourself, Rankman is suspicious of everyone." Kowalski sighed, unable to
shake the vision of the boy. He felt the kid pat him on the back. "Hey.
Tell the Mountie I said what's up." "Thanks, Levon." The teen shook his
head. "Don't thank me, man. I want to see the bastard go down, but I think
what you're doing is real stupid." As he began to walk away something made
Ray turn and say, "It's not on you, man." Levon scoffed. "Yeah, right." 

 As predicted, Theresa's father did contact Kowalski. When Ray met with
him was offered a line to snort(which he turned down) and a whiskey, but
not a word was spoken about the little boy. The man, who was nearly
incoherent, muttered about 'these useless politicians' and 'those damn
fool Canadians', but he said not a word about his son. The guy had a
terrible stink on him, as if he hadn't showered in months and Ray found
the odor almost overpowering. He had to fight back nausea as the subject
turned to drugs and he mentioned cautiously that he was a buyer and he had
recently lost his connection to a police drug bust. At once the old man
waved his arms around excitedly and offered to hook Ray up with his
connection. 'A good man.' he exclaimed, "A honorable man. You buy from him
and you know what you're getting. Not like these foreigners who are always
trying to rip off honest, hard-working Americans like us." He shook his
head. "You come here tomorrow night, around nine and I'll set you up. But
don't bring no money. Lee don't sell to just anyone. He's got to meet you
first." 

 Ray came home late at night, with no mention as to where he'd been or
what he'd done. Fraser had called the precinct twice and was nearly ready
to go out in search of the detective when Kowalski walked through the
door. There appeared to be a heavy weight on his shoulders, obvious in the
way his body sagged and the way he dragged his feet as he walked. Stan
didn't say a word, only looked at the Mountie for a second then stipped
off his jacket and settled down in front of the television. The silence
between them was profound and painful. Ben had not seen Ray so
unresponsive the Botrelle case and he knew better than to prob. Ray would
come to him when he was ready. Until then there was nothing more to be
done than ride out the storm. Dinner was eaten in absolute quiet so the
sound of Dief's breathing alone was deafening. By the time they went to
bed Fraser was beginning to doubt that Ray was going to come around if he
wasn't forced out. The only thing that Kowalski did initiate was sex. And
that was exactly what it was. They didn't make love. It was not
pleasurable, or even satisfying; it was clincal and detached. A few moans,
gasps, but no words and their lips never met. Ray was cruel, pinning
Fraser, biting him hard enough to leave bruises and disregarding the
Mountie's pained gasps. Then Stan shoved him onto his stomach and entered
him roughly and Benny pressed his face into the bed to stifle a scream. It
hurt so terribly that tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. The whole
time the detective just panted and with every cry from Ben he increased
the roughness. When it was finished, Ray turned over, facing away from his
lover. Fraser did the same, but he felt used and miserable. 

 Ben awoke to find the bed empty. He could hear muffled coughing and sat
up. The bathroom was wide open and he could see Ray on his knees, hunched
over the toilet. Scrambling out of bed, the Mountie went to him. The
detective's head rested on the edge of the seat; he looked up at Fraser,
quietly pleading. Stan's face was flushed and his hair was matted with
sweat. Benny fell on his knees beside his lover and gently rubbed his
back. "Ray?" Kowalski dropped his head again and vomitted. "Ray." Fraser
held his shoulders and braced Ray's lithe, trembling body against his own
muscled frame. Through uncontrollable crying , he coughed and gasped
,almost hyperventillating. Ben ran his fingers through the detective's
hair, trying to calm him. "Tell me what's wrong.", he whispered. Kowalski
bit his lip, trying to stifle the sob. He hated to be like this,
especially in front of Fraser. "Tell me what's wrong, Ray." He sighed
deeply and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Hid throat was sore
and burning. Ben sat back against the bathtub, easing Ray into a
comforting embrace. Kowalski rested his head on Fraser's shoulder,
appreciative for the warmth of his body. He was so very tired. "He was
just a baby." "I'm sorry?" Ray wrapped his arm around one of Benton's.
"The boy. Jack. I can't get him outta my head, Frase." "The boy?" He felt
Ray shudder. "He was tied down, like an animal. They tied him down like an
animal." Another shudder and a shaky breath. "He was just a baby. I tried
to--wanted to help. But I couldn't---couldn't control..." His voice
trailed off. Benton hugged him tightly, covered his tear-stained face with
kisses. He hadn't the slightest idea of what Ray spoke of, but right now
his only concern was calming the detective. "It wasn't your fault."
Kowalski didn't seem to hear him. "His eyes were black, Ben. Like coal."
He was distant, unreachable. He hardly noticed when Ben hoisted him to his
feet and took him back to bed. "Like coal.", he mumbled again as Fraser
eased him down onto the pillows and pulled the bedsheet up to his waist.
Ray was still whispering to himself as the Mountie slid in next to him.
Though he strained to understand, not a single word was audible to him.
Even after his lover had fallen asleep, Benton couldn't find peace enough
to do the same. 

 "Why didn't you wake me?" Ray was rushing about like chicken with its
head cut off. He took messy gulps from his coffee as he tried to pull on a
shirt and eat his breakfast. Benny sat on a barstool, watching Ray with
much concern. "You didn't sleep well last night. I felt you could use the
rest." He was now hopping around, trying to put on his shoes and reaching
for his wallet and car keys. "Ompf!" Unsuccessfully. "Look, " He stood.
"do me a favor?" "Anything." "Don't ever, ever turn off the alarm and not
wake me." "I apologize. It's just that last night you were-" "Forget last
night! That was indigestion. Just don't be pulling off this kind of crap
again, o.k.?" "Yes, Ray. I'm sorry. I was just concerned." This seemed to
enrage the detective. "I do not need your concern!", he snapped. Gathering
his keys he said,"C'mon. I'll drop you off at the Consulate." Ben was now
unable to mask his hurt. "I'd rather walk, Ray." The detective nodded,
opening the door. "Fine. Whatever." He stormed out, slamming the door
behind him with enough force to shake a stack of CDs from the shelf. 

 Kowalski was jittery all day. The fight he'd had with Fraser that morning
was pushed into the back of his mind. Something about last night was
eating at him, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was. His business with
Rankman overshadowed everything else. There was a certain fear for his
life that was countered by the adrenline rush that was already building in
him. Nine came around much faster than he expected. With much begging and
pleading he managed to persuade Frannie to lend him one of her brother's
suits. Mercifully, he and Vecchio were about the same size. Even as
Kowalski drove to the meeting place, he fidgeted uncomfortably in the suit
and he wondered how Vecchio managed to dress like this on a daily basis.
He shook off the self conscious feeling as made his way up the stairs. He
was met by a man who identified himself as 'an associate of Mr. Rankman.'
Ray was led into what could only be described as the penthouse of the
tenament. It was large in size but sparsely furnished. The walls were a
sickly shade of yellow and much of the paint was peeling. A tall man with
curly black hair sat in a rocking chair, watching the visitor with cool
detachment. "Mr. Wolcott." Ray smiled thinly, his eyes darting for a
moment to the 'associate' as he left. "Mr. Rankman." The dealer stood
slowly and approached Kowalski. Carefully, he adjusted the detective's
jacket. "I understand you saved Jack's life yesterday." Bastard, your crap
nearly killed him. "Yes." "Good work." Son of a bitch. "Thank you." "So, I
hear you want to do business with me." "That would be correct." He nodded,
turning away. "Well, tell you what, I'm gonna hook you up with some of my
best stuff. You like what you feel and we can set up a buy." Like what I
feel? What the hell was Levon talking about? This guy isn't careful, he's
just a freak. "I'm sorry?" Rankman tossed him a look. "I'm gonna let you
sample the product first. I'm a tough businessman, Wolcott, but I don't
expect you to buy something without taking it out for a test drive first."
Kowalski's stomach turned. Sample? Test drive? Oh, geez. He must have
appeared apprehensive, because Rankman was moving toward him, the hint of
a predatory smile on his thin, chapped lips. Ray tried to play it cool. "I
just sell, I ain't a client." Rankman was circling him like a jackal.
"That's cute. Or maybe you're a cop, huh? Undercover?" He was pushed
roughly onto the couch then. Panic gripped Kowalski. How much did Rankman
know? If he even suspected.... "Are you a narc, pretty boy?" Stanley
glared at him, forcing the Fear into the back of his mind. "Do I look like
a narc?" Rankman traced Ray's jawline, stroked the cheekbone, "Yeah." He
ran his fingers over Kowalski's lips. "You're gonna get high with me,
before you go." The detective shook his head. "You're some kinda freak. No
way!" Suddenly the big hand was around his throat, cutting off oxygen.
"Listen to me. You'll get high, or you'll get dead. Can your little uptown
mentality grasp that?" Ray managed to croak out a 'yes' and he was
released. His heart pounded miserably as Rankman prepared the heroin. It
wasn't alittle bit of pot, or maybe a hit of acid. This was heroin, one of
the most addictive narcotics...'Just one time,' Ray thought, 'just one.'
Rackman pinned him against the couch. "Don't trust no one who won't at
least sample." Kowalski bit his lip to subdue his trembling as the dealer
pushed his sleeve up close to the shoulder. He closed his eyes, unable to
look as Rackman probed his arm for a vein. And then the familiar 'tap,
tap' of a finger gently flicking the syringe. His arm was gripped hard and
Kowalski sucked in a breath as the needle stabbed into his flesh. He
shuddered violently as Rackman released him. "Best stuff. Best stuff
you'll ever get." the fellow mumbled. The detective massaged his arm, only
now noticing the large bruise that was already appearing on the pale flesh
and a small pinpoint of blood where the needle had entered. At once his
head began to swim and he fell from the couch onto the floor. It seemed
his lungs refused to work. Falling. He was loosing all sense of direction,
up or down. Rackman's hands were on him, shoving him into a sitting
position. "Can't handle your shit, eh?" Another wave of panic passed over
Ray. Did Rackman know? But then then the dealer continued. "That's the
problem with you uptown guys, thinking you can market a product you ain't
never even tried yourself." But the detective wasn't listening. The drug
was already beginning to drop anchors in his brain. Oh, what a rush. He
sighed deeply. Suddenly, everything felt so good. Real good. Rankman was
seated across from in a rocking chair, watching him. Watching him. Ray
flashed him a broad, lop-sided, Chesire Cat grin. Maybe Rankman wasn't
such a bad guy after all. Kowalski giggled, rubbing his eyebrow. What the
hell was he here to do again? Um...Oh....No, wait. That wasn't it....Jeez,
he just couldn't remember. Gosh, and normally he had a really good--Wait,
was he thinking about? Oh, right, hockey. No, that can't be right.
Bending? No. Twisting? No. Ah! Curling. Right, curling. Brooms. Brooms are
funny. They've got bristles and stuff. Whoosh! Maybe it's just outta
season or something. 'Maybe you just need to get laid.' Stan burst out
laughing. 'You're a funny guy, Ray. You just crack me up.' 

 Somewhere in the last hour, Stanley had stopped laughing. He was
stretched out on the worn parlour rug, his cheek pressed into the scratchy
fabric. Each breath was sucked in with concentrated effort. Tears rolled
over his face, moistened his dry lips. Stan couldn't string a full thought
together. A crushing guilt had overtaken him. Last night. Sex. He'd hurt
Fraser. Badly. Oh, shit. Like a zombie, he ungracefully pulled himself
into a sitting position; motor functions required so much effort. Pain.
God, his ear ached, like someone was sticking a icepick in there and
twisting it around. Ow! Make it stop! Ray's head fell back, his eyes
fixing on the ceiling, looking past it. Every sound was suddenly amplified
by hundreds and thousands. The television in the next room, the flies on
the landing outside, unsteady pounding of his heart, the rush of blood in
his veins. He fell back onto his side again. No. No. No. Nausea, sickness.
Kowalski curled up in a fetal position, hugging his sides. Oh, God. Oh,
God, Oh, God. It hurts. It hurts. Rankman squatted down beside him,
running his fingers through the detective's short blond hair. "It hurts.",
he whimpered. "Yeah.. Kinda like being a virgin. Always hurts the first
time." The dealer's voice was cheerful and it drilled through Ray's mind.
The guy was taking pleasure in this, in watching him suffer. "Fraser.", he
whispered, "Fraser." 

 For whatever the reason, Rankman agreed to set up a buy in a few days.
The fact that Kowalski had done the drug had convinced him that he wasn't
a cop. By the time Ray got out to his car, he had already begun to wish he
was dead. The pain in his belly was unbearable. There seemed to be a 50
ton weight on his chest. His arm was bruised and aching where he had shot
up. It was nearly 11:30 in the morning. He was supposed to be at work at
eight. Oh, shit and he hadn't even called Fraser. Didn't go home last
night, his Mountie would be upset. He was gonna call. He was, but he began
nodding off in the middle of traffic. Realizing his exhaustion, he pulled
the car into the parking lot of the grocery store. So tired. He crept into
the back seat, curled up and slept. 

 It was 3:45 when he awoke. He felt somewhat better, if not extremely
hungry. He got back into the driver's seat and called the Consulate.
"Canadian Consulate, Constable Fraser speaking." Kowalski knew that tone,
distant and distracted. "Ben?" "Ray?!" He sounded relieved. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Frase. It's just, I've had a long night." "I was worried." "I
know. I'm sorry. I should have called." "Yes, you should have. You need to
call the precinct. Lieutenant Welsh has been calling here every half hour
looking for you." "Yeah. I'll call him." He sighed, biting his lip as he
felt another bout of drilling in his head, "I'll see you tonight, o.k?"
"Fine. Are you sure you're o.k.?" "Yes." After he hung up with Fraser the
nausea took a strangle hold on his stomach and he wasn't able to contain
it any more. He pulled the car into a fire lane, opened the door and
emptied most of his stomach contents(what little there was left) into the
street. He sighed, cradling his head between his knees. His eyes watered
and he suddenly wished his mother was there to cuddle and comfort him as
she had done when he was a child. Inhaling, he got back into the car and
dialed the precinct. As soon as it picked up he said, "Frannie?" A gasp on
the other end. "Oh, God! Ray are you o.k.? We've been worried sick about
you. Welsh is gonna have kittens!" Kittens? "Where the hell have you
been?" "I was trying to take down Lee Rankman." "Rankman! Are you insane?
Look, I'm going to put you on with Welsh, he's-" "No!" That was not the
person he needed to talk to right now."Just tell him I'm on my way and
that I'll talk to him when I get in." 

 "Detective, get your ass in here! Now!" Kowalski took a deep breath. His
chest constricted and his lungs seemed to have shrunk in size. Frannie and
Huey offered him quick glances of sympathy. He cursed under his breath and
shuffled slowly into Welsh's office. He'd seen the lieutenant pissed
before, and on more than one occasion he'd been the cause of it. But this
was definitely over the top, even for Welsh. The older man was in his
face, bellowing about IA and Ray's lack of responsibilty. "I should have
your shield for this! What the hell did you think you were doing?!"
Kowalski swallowed, finally able to meet his superior's eyes. He could
feel the other man's hot breath on his face. "Well, Detective?!" He
sighed, that terrible nausea coming over him again. "Private
investigation.", he rasped, mumbled, trying to combat the dizziness.
"What?! Speak up!" Kowalski swallowed again. "It was a private
investigation.", he said more loudly, though his voice was still near a
whisper. "A private investigation?" Welsh's voice was softer now, but not
by much. "Even after I told you leave it alone?" "Yes, sir." The
lieutenant nodded. "Yes." He shook his head, almost sadly and turned away
from Stanley. And Ray couldn't bear the disappointment on his face. "I
couldn't let Rankman get away with it. I couldn't. He's pure evil and
dangerous and-" "Yes. Very dangerous." Welsh massaged his temple. For a
time there was an uncomfortable silence. Kowalski like felt a disobedient
teenager who had disgraced his father. "I want the whole story, Detective.
Right now." Welsh settled in behind his desk and Ray lowered his eyes.
Slowly, the story unfolded. The boy, his full involvment with Rackman, the
attempt to bring the man to justice and the night's drug incident. Welsh
sat and listened to all this carefully, taking note of Ray's sweating, his
edginess, his wide, blood-shot eyes and trembling form. "Detective, how
much heroin were you injected with?" Kowalski rubbed his forehead
nervously. God, he didn't want to think. He was just so tired. "I-I don't
know. I-I didn't look." The liuetenant concealed his worry in a strong,
calm voice. He did not want to panic Kowalski any further by making a
fuss. "I think you should sit down, Ray.", he said. Kowalski shook his
head. "N-No. No. I'd really like to go home and maybe, um, maybe-" He
staggered, groping at anything and nothing for support. Welsh rose, but
did not make it around the desk fast enough to catch the detective as he
crumbled. 

 Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Ray opened his eyes. He felt groggy and his head
ached something terrible. Beep. Beep. Oh, the monitor. He hated that
sound. Beep. Beep. Beep. He groaned, shifting slightly. "Detective?" He
heard the heavy steps and looked over to see Welsh walking toward the bed.
"How are you feeling?" He sighed. "Good. Real good.", he replied with
exaggerated cheerfulness. The lieutenant pulled a chair close to the bed.
"Cut the sarcasm, detective." Ray growled, but had the good sense to hold
his tongue. "You've gotten yourself in deep this time, Kowalski. IA is
going to have a field day with this." Ray glared at him in disbelief.
"Screw IA! Rackman is responsible for more deaths than we have record of.
He buys the cooperation of his neighbors through violence and if they
don't play ball, he kills them or he kills their families. He sells drugs
to children. " He glared at Welsh through burning eyes."Have you ever seen
an eleven year old kid overdose? Convulsions, swallowing the tongue, eyes
rolling back in his head, foaming at the mouth. It ain't pretty. " The
lieutenant lowered his head, sighing even as Ray continued to rant. "You
ever seen a crack baby? They're so little. Like mice. Skinny little arms.
They look like they're still fetuses, like they weren't ready to be born
yet." Welsh reached out to place his hand over Kowalski's. "Detective,
I've been walking the streets of this city since you were a toddler. I've
seen children die of overdoses in front of me. I've seen babies shot to
death by doped-up parents. It doesn't get any easier. I know it tears you
apart, but you are still an officer of the law. You took an oath and you
can't just toss the rules out the window when they get in the way." Ray
shook his head. "Right, the rules. I forgot, these guys have rights,
protection. Can't go stepping on those. That would be unconstitusional."
The lieutenant raised his finger to remind Kowalski about the sarcasm.
"The rules are also there to protect hot-headed, loose cannons like
yourself. Detective, you collasped in my office. I was sure you were dying
and I don't remember being that scared in a long time." Kowalski looked at
him, surprised by this confession. "When my detectives hurt, I hurt too."
"Thanks, Lieu." Ray's voice was almost a whisper. "Yeah. Yeah." Welsh gave
him a light slap on the cheek, "Tell anyone else I said that and I'll cut
out your tongue out myself." Kowalski smiled. "So, what now?" Welsh
sighed. "Based on what you gave us, Narcotics was able to pick up Rankman.
But he knows about you now." "Ooh. I'm trembling." "Don't underestimate
this guy. You need to watch your back." He stood up. "Alright. Now the
doctor says you can go home, but you'll need plenty of rest. I'll have
Huey give you a ride. In the meantime, I'm posting a guard outside." He
held up a hand to stop the immediate protest from the detective. "I don't
want to hear it. Also, Frannie has gone to the Consulate to get Fraser."
Kowalski groaned. Why did they have to tell the Mountie? No point in
making him worry needlessly. "You didn't have to disturb him.", he said
quietly. Welsh was adjusting his coat. "He called for you and we couldn't
very well lie. Anyhow, seeing as how you two are close, I figured it would
be good for you." Ray grinned slyly. Close. Hmm, Welsh had no idea. The
lieutenant caught the little smile and raised an eyebrow to Stanley.
"Something you find humorous, Detective?" Kowalski's smile grew. "No,
sir." "Ray!" A blur of pink and black rushed at him and suddenly Ray was
wrapped in Frannie's arms, his face buried in her hair. "Oh, thank God,
thank God.", she murmured, "I was so worried." He rubbed her back gently.
"I'm fine, Frannie. No reason to worry." She pulled away from him and gave
him a light, mock punch in the shoulder. "Don't you ever scare me like
that again, Bro." Suddenly he felt ashamed for what he had done and
guilty. So often he acted without thinking of the consquences to people
who cared about him. She eased back from him, still holding his hands.
"You're so pale. Ma would have a fit if she saw you." Kowalski shook his
head. He looked up and saw Fraser standing in the doorway. Welsh put his
hand on Frannie's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get some coffee." He looked at
the Mountie as he left. "Knock some sense into him, would you?" Ben
nodded. "Yes, sir." He closed the door behind them and turned to his
lover. 

 Kowalski couldn't conceal the smile that played across his lips as Fraser
approached with that patented annoyed, but worried expression he threw at
Ray so often. "Ray-" Kowalski laughed. Poor Benny, the things he had to
put up with. "Ray, this is not at all humorous. What has gotten into you?
You could have been killed last night." Stanley sighed. "But I wasn't." He
could sense an Inuit story coming on. "Aw, save the lecture, Frase. I
already got two from Welsh." Ben sat down in the chair and ran his hand
over Ray's arm. "Not undeservingly." He touched the tattoo on Ray's
shoulder. "Why do you do these things?" Kowalski rolled his eyes. Here it
comes. "Do what, Frase?" "Deliberately put yourself in harm's way." "It's
what I do. It's my job. Rankman's a dirty bastard. I couldn't stand around
and let him keep killing people. I did what I had to do. Why is that such
a big deal?" Ben touched his fingers lightly to Stan's eyes. "You're my
whole life, Ray. I can't loose you.", he said. The detective winced. That
did it. No matter how he justified his recklessness to himself, Fraser
always seemed to find the flaw and exploit it. He sighed, shaking his
head. "I'm sorry, Ben. I just can't deal with the thought of scum like
Rankman walking around nearly untouchable." He glanced down shamefully at
the folded corner of his sheet. "I want to apologize for yesterday. I had
a bad day. And then I came home and I was total dick to you." Ben's
expression was soft. "No. I understand." Ray sucked in a breath, studying
the Mountie carefully. "I, uh, I hurt you pretty bad last night, didn't
I?" Fraser didn't reply at once, but dropped his eyes. "You were upset,
Ray.", he replied as a length," I don't blame you-" "Goddamnit! I hurt
you! Stop trying to make me feel better, Frase." "I'm not trying to-"
"Stop it! I hurt you! Just tell me I hurt you! I want to hear it say it!"
He sighed. "Yes. You hurt me." Ray bowed his head. "I know it doesn't mean
much, but I'm sorry." Fraser took his hand and twined their fingers
together. "You have nothing to be sorry for." "Don't say that. I was
frustrated and angry and I took it out on you. Forgive me?" Ben was about
to object again and say that nothing the man had done required forgiving,
but the pain and guilt in his lover's eyes silenced that thought. "I
forgive you, Ray.", he replied simply. Kowalski smiled, visibly relieved
by this. "Thanks, Frase. I needed that." Fraser nodded sympathically and
teased the detective's dishelved hair. Ray sighed. This action gave him an
excuse to change the subject. "I guess I look kinda crappy, huh?" Benny
stroked his chin, tickled by the light stubble. "You'll always be
beautiful to me, Ray." "Aw.." Fraser was amused to see his lover blush
shyly. He moved forward and captured Kowalski's lips with his own. Ray
moaned softly into his mouth. Slowly, Benton pulled away and looked into
the detective's green eyes. It was the kind that gaze that Ray could feel,
as if Benny were searching his soul. "I love you.", he whispered. Kowalski
touched his face lightly. "I love you too, Frase." 

 The Rankman case would go to trial thanks to a judge who was seeking
re-election. Stella Kowalski would be prosecuting and this was an
incredible comfort to Ray. Her courtroom tactics were brilliant and
ruthless, bordering sadistic. She was an expert at discrediting just about
any witness that the defense brought in and, if she was in a particular
irritable mood, she could make them cry. Her agreement to take on Rankman
was more or less personal. Though she would deny it until her dying
breath, the she wanted revenge for what he had done to Ray. 

 The easy part was over; the hardest was yet to come. Now all the 27th
could was pray that the jury would make the right decision. (continued in
part 2: 180 Degrees)