So many people on the list seemed to be bothered by RayK, and his
relationship with OFM. I started this after seeing Eclipse, and a lot of
things came together after seeing Spy Vs. Spy; not one of my favourite
eps, but it did answer some of my questions. I wondered at the lack of
other Vecchios in this season, and the following addresses that, as well.
Due to some not too explicit violence, I have to rate this one as an R. I
don't get graphic, but, well, you'll see, if you decide to continue. The
medical procedures I describe are totally fictitious. I made it all up to
further the story. It was easier than doing the kind of investigation
required to be accurate. If it offends you, hit the delete button. This
is, after all, just for fun. Sort of. This is gen, I don't do slash. Lots
and lots of hurt/comfort/angst, possibly off the scale for smarm. I was
ambivalent about RayK at the beginning, but CKR has grown on me, and so
has this character of his. This is sort of a sequel to "Reading Between
the Lines", but each stands alone. I actually started this one first, then
the muse bashed , and I had to follow where my fingers led me. I don't
usually have any idea where I'm going when I start one of these. I usually
start with a small situation and a conversation, and my fingers take over
from there. I wish my brain would get more involved with the process, but
that's how it goes. The teacher friend who is kind enough to proof them
for me, told me to hurry up and finish this one, as she can't read my
writing, even if I did use my favourite fountain pen (with anything else,
even I can't read it). Enough rambling. Hope you enjoy it. 

Oh, yeah. One other thing. I don't own them. I make no money from this. If
you sue me, all you'll get is my decrepit old lurcher. She's fifteen, a
cross between a Dingo and a Whippet. Had her three years before I found
out she wasn't a dog. I love her anyway, so don't sue me, please. R.I.
Eaton Raison D'Etre 

"I'll see you Monday, Ray. Have a nice weekend." Fraser called out as he
closed the car door.  

"See ya, Fraser." Ray replied, politely waiting until the mountie entered
the consulate before pulling out into traffic. Arriving at his apartment,
Ray found a parking space practically in front of his door. Wearily, he
climbed the stairs, idly wondering how to spend his weekend. Reaching his
door, he pushed his key in the lock, twisted it, turned the knob, and
walked in. 

He never saw his assailant, only felt the blow to his head,
then...darkness. 

He regained consciousness slowly. His head ached. He opened his eyes, only
to close them immediately. He tried to figure out what had happened, only
remembering that he had last opened the door to his apartment, then...he
opened his eyes again, cautiously. He found himself in a windowless room,
one door, open light bulb hanging from the high ceiling, lying on a cot
next to the wall. He carefully sat up, gingerly felt the huge lump on the
back of his head at the base of his skull. He wished he had a glass of
water, his mouth tasted like Fraser's wolf had slept in it. He glanced
down, discovering that his watch was missing. OK. He rubbed his face,
looking up as the door opened. There was one smallish man in a fancy suit,
closely followed by three large goon types. He looked at the new arrivals,
curious, not yet coherent enough to be afraid. 

"What's your name?" the snappy dresser asked  

"Ray Vecchio" uncertainty in his voice.  

"What's your *real* name?" polite, but the goons were coming closer.  

"I told you, Ray Vecchio. Why?" The goons were menacingly near.  

"No, no. Who are you,* really*?" Two of the goons were grabbing his arms,
the third slipping on a set of brass knuckles.	

Oh, no. "I told you, my name is Raymond Vecchio. My ID is in my wallet..."
The enhanced fist hit him low, just below the solar plexus. The air gasped
from his lungs, leaving him trying to force his nearly paralyzed diaphragm
to function pulling in more air. Shit. This was not good, not good at all.
He had to admit, they were pros. He never lost consciousness. He wished he
had. He didn't think anything was broken, just badly bruised. Finally,
they threw him back on the cot. He *really* wished he had something to
drink. Water, whisky...arsenic, cyanide, anything. He curled into a fetal
position, arms wrapped around his aching, twitching abdomen. This was bad.
He knew they hadn't liked his answers. How could he convince them? If he
broke, both he and the real Ray Vecchio would die. If he didn't, well, he
knew going in what his odds of survival were if they ever found out, or
started asking questions. No great loss, really. Not if he could keep from
telling. The pain and exhaustion caught up with him, and he dozed. 

The bad guys started working in shifts, two teams of three. He'd get a
short break (seemed each break was shorter than the last, but that was
probably just his perceptions, as the pain increased to levels nearly
beyond his ability to feel any more), Then the other group would start in.
He refused to admit that he was anyone other than Ray Vecchio. The break
ended. They came back with some kind of metal frame with them. He was too
weak to struggle; really, he was just waiting for them to kill him. They
grabbed him, pulled his shirt off, tearing it, as they pulled it over his
head, dragged him over to the metal frame and snapped his wrists into
handcuffs, suspending him from the top bar of the metal frame. His feet
did not reach the floor. The pulling on his already bruised muscles
brought a new and terrifying vision of the pain to come. Oh, yeah. Let's
use Ray as a punching bag. One guy holding him by his hips, while another
one punched him. His entire chest and stomach were mottled red and purple
from the successive beatings. He could barely open his eyes in his bruised
and swollen face. The one holding him abruptly pulled down on his body,
while another one hit him with a two-handed blow; first one in the arm
pit, on the muscle connecting arm to shoulder, then a second blow on the
top of the shoulder, causing the joint to dislocate. Ray screamed until he
was hoarse. They left him hanging while they took a break. When they
returned, the sharp dresser was with them. The creep shook his head in
mock sorrow.  

"You ready to tell us your name yet?" Ray couldn't even lift his head to
look at them.  

"I been tellin' you!" he whispered, barely able to speak. He was *so*
thirsty. "My name is Ray..." a blow to the kidney stopped him. The creep
gritted his teeth in annoyance. He glanced at the goons and nodded. One of
them left, returning in a very short time with a quirt, a short whip,
braided, with several lashes at the end. The creep in charge then left
them to it. The first sting was mild, in comparison to his other hurts;
but soon he felt as though his back was on fire. Then he felt the blood,
from the intersection of welt upon welt, trickling down his back.  

"Who are you?"	

"Ray Vecchio."	

More pain. They dislocated his other shoulder. He could no longer remember
what it felt like to *not* feel pain. There was no telling how long the
were at it. Days? Weeks? Forever? They always stopped before he lost
consciousness. Never gave him the release of the darkness. He was so
dehydrated, that his tongue was swollen. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't
croak out more than a couple of words. He'd laugh, if it didn't hurt so
much. He couldn't tell them anything now if his life depended on it. That
was funny, too. 

They pulled his shoes and socks off, then the rest of his clothing,
leaving him totally naked, hanging helpless, with his two dislocated
shoulders, bruised and lacerated body and face. The well dressed creep
came back.  

"You ready to tell us who you are, yet?"  

Ray managed to focus his pain-wracked eyes on the creep. He didn't even
try to answer. Now it would end in welcome oblivion. There was nothing
left. Creep nodded. The goons released his wrists from the handcuffs,
allowing him to collapse to the floor in a heap, unable to make any of his
muscles work properly. He realized, finally, that the only one who ever
spoke was the creep. That info might have been interesting, if he wasn't
about to die; if he cared any more.  

"Do him." The creep said. The goons grabbed his arms and legs as the other
three goons came in, too. Ooh, mass executioners. He thought to himself.
At last, an end to the pain. Then, instead of dragging his sorry carcass
to the dump, they dropped him back on the cot. Four of the goons held him
down. Puzzled, he tried to turn his head to see what was going on. If any
of his muscles could have obeyed him, he would have struggled, or
screamed. Maybe he could scream?...Yep. He'd been wrong; there was
something left. Surprising how well his overused vocal cords could still
work. They took turns, even the creep. All of them. One after another.	

"Who are you?"	

"R-R-R-Ray." He sobbed, stuttering, "M-m-m-my n-n-n-n-name i-is Ray..." It
was all he could remember, after all that had been done to him, he was
telling the truth, he just was unable to finish the sentence. They finally
believed him. They dumped him on the floor and left him there. He cried
himself to sleep, just waiting to die. 

The lieutenant was pissed. "Where the hell's Vecchio?" he bellowed at the
squad room in general, and at Francesca Vecchio specifically. "He shoulda
been here at seven, and it's now..." he squinted at his watch
"Ten-thirty." He glared at Frannie.  

She scowled back at him. "How would I know. I ain't seen him since Friday,
either. Maybe he's with Fraser."  

"Call the consulate and ask" Welsh growled, storming back to his office. 

"No, I'm sorry, Francesca, I haven't seen Ray since Friday" He was going
through his mail as he spoke on the phone. There was an odd-looking
envelope with his name on it. He slit it open. "Oh, dear. Francesca, let
me speak to the leftenant, please." He scanned the note again as he
waited. "Leftenant, I have a note here, that says that I can have my
friend back, with an address...Yes, sir." He read off the address, it was
only a few blocks from the consulate. "I'm on my way." He hung up the
phone and exited at a run, Diefenbaker at his heels. 

The doors were unlocked, no sound in the empty office building/warehouse.
He motioned for Dief to check to the left as he quietly moved right.
Suddenly, Dief woofed and charged down a hallway, tail waving. Fraser
followed. The door was open, light spilling from the overhead bulb. He
froze on the threshold at the sight that met him. Dief was whining as he
sniffed around the prone, naked body of... 

"Ray."	

Dief whimpered, looking at Fraser. Then nuzzled the body lying in the
middle of the floor, which moaned weakly.  

"Ray!" Fraser pulled off his tunic as he rushed forward, covering the
tortured body with the warm jacket. Cautious, careful of the man's more
obvious injuries, he examined his erstwhile friend.  

"Please..." Ray croaked, shivering uncontrollably. Ben moved to the cot,
gathering up the sheets, stained with blood and...other things. He took
the cleaner top sheet, and gently covered the injured Ray, over the warmer
tunic. He resisted the urge to just pick him up and carry him to the
nearest hospital. He forced himself to just sit beside Ray, and wait. He
noticed Ray's swollen tongue, arose and went in search of some water. He
found a break area, which had some paper cups and a sink. Filling two of
the cups, he carried them back to the injured man.  

"Ray? I have some water, but I'm going to have to move you to give it to
you." Ray nodded, almost imperceptibly. As gently as he could, Fraser
pulled Ray over onto his back, lifting him as much as he dared, into his
lap to get as much of him off the floor as he could, and place him at an
angle to be able to drink. He held a cup of water to Ray's lips. It took a
moment for Ray's mouth to realize there was water in it. It felt...good.
It didn't hurt. He swallowed. Ben poured a little more past his parched
lips and swollen tongue. Over the next few minutes, he managed to get
nearly the entire cup of water into Ray.  

"I guess I finally found something I'm good for," Ray mumbled.	

"Help is coming, Ray. It's going to be all right." Ben could hear sirens
approaching in the distance. In spite of the pain, Ray sighed, content in
the safety he felt with Fraser's nearness. When Welsh and the paramedics
arrived, he had managed to tangle one hand in Fraser's shirt. He wouldn't
let go.  

"No. Please. Don't let them..." Ray sobbed, frightened.  

"Ray. Ray, it's all right. They're here to help you. Take you to the
hospital." Ray was trembling violently.  

"No. Don't leave me. Please?" Fraser looked helplessly to Welsh.  

"Go with him to the hospital. I'll take care of things here"  

Ben nodded, "Ray? Let go now, I'll stay with you until we get to the
hospital." He managed to release Ray's hand from his shirt and held it in
his own hands. "I'll be right here." Ray couldn't seem to tear his eyes
from Ben's face. His teeth clenched as the paramedics worked on him. Tears
silently running down his cheeks.  

Welsh started inventorying the room. It didn't take a detective to figure
out what had happened here. He glanced at Ray. Damn. This was more than
they'd bargained for. This was too good a cop. He wondered if he broke and
told them? Seeing what he'd been through, he knew that *he* would have
broken and told them anything they wanted to hear. The paramedics finished
preparing Ray for transport. One of the paramedics looked at Welsh... 

"Uh, officer?"	

"Lieutenant Welsh."  

"Yeah, Lieutenant. Um, we're going to need those condoms for
the...uh...rape...?"  

"Sure. Go ahead." The paramedic, hands still encased in gloves, gathered
the used condoms, placing each in a separate evidence bag, tagged and
marked under Welsh's practiced eye.  

"We're going to transport him, now."  

Welsh nodded. "I'll be down later, Ray, After..." What could he say to
this man?  

Fraser nodded. "Understood." Ray's hand still clasped his own, as they
carried him out to the ambulance. 

Even in the emergency room, Ray refused to let go of Fraser's hand, and
there was nothing the ER personnel could do about it. Fortunately, the
doctor was an understanding woman, since every time any man came near, or
could be heard, Ben wondered if Ray was going to crush his hand. The
doctor...Jennifer Davis, her name tag announced, was gentle, with a
soothing voice.  

"Mr. Vecchio?" Ray met her eyes. "I'm going to start with putting your
arms back in your shoulder sockets. It's going to hurt real bad for a
while, but, then, by comparison to how you're probably feeling all over,
just be another part of the general ache. OK?"	

Fraser looked at her in shock, "Aren't you going to sedate him? Or give
him something for the pain, first?" he whispered, in horror.  

She looked at him, "In other circumstances, yes. But we don't know what
all may have been put into him, the blood work even with a rush will take
hours. By then, I can have him pretty much patched up, and ready for
whatever comes next." She looked at the paramedic's report. "He may need
surgery, depending upon internal injuries. His BP is good, which indicates
no, or only minor internal injuries." She looked back up at Ben. "Would
you like to help?"  

Ben looked down at Ray, who nodded, finally releasing Ben's hand. Dr.
Davis showed Ben how to hold Ray, while she repositioned first one, then
the other shoulder. Ray never made a sound. As soon as they were finished,
he took as deep a breath as he was able; by comparison, he was already
feeling much better. He sighed, almost content, but Ben began to move
away. He cried out wordlessly, finding his arms weren't working yet.  

The doctor took it all in, "Please...?"  

"Constable Benton Fraser, Ma'am, Royal Canadian Mounted Police."  

She smiled, "And you are here because?"  

"Well, originally I came to Chicago on the trail of my father's killer,
and due to circumstances that don't require going into at this juncture, I
have remained here as deputy liaison officer with the Canadian Consulate.
I am also Detective Vecchio's friend."	

She glanced down at the report. "You found him."  

"Yes, ma'am."  

She looked at Ray noting the pleading expression in his eyes. She drew her
gaze back up to Ben. "He needs you, right now, to stay close, make him
feel safe. At least for a while." Are you *really* his friend? This is
something only a friend would do.  

Ben locked eyes with Ray, then picked up the recently disengaged hand.
"I'll stay." 

He wished he hadn't. Standing by while the more mundane injuries were
taken care of, the cuts cleaned, the more serious ones stitched, the
precautionary antibiotic and tetanus injections, weren't *too* terrible;
but when they started on the rape exam, he nearly lost it. He couldn't
watch what they were doing. He kept his eyes focused on Ray's face, the
lights, any place but on what the doctor and nurses were doing.
Fortunately, after all he'd been through, Ray was nearly oblivious to what
they were doing to him.  

"There's some pretty extensive tearing," the doctor pointed out. "There
are a few places we need to go in and stitch. Surprisingly, there isn't
more damage." She looked at Ray. "This was the last thing they did to you,
wasn't it?" she asked, gently.	

Ray nodded, he opened his mouth to speak, swallowed hard and tried again;
one of the nurses held a glass of water with a straw for him. He took a
small drink, smiled slightly in thanks, and tried yet again. "I thought
they were finally going to kill me." He croaked out. "Shows what I know
about anything."  

"Well, it saved you from more serious damage. I know it doesn't mean
anything right now, but you're very lucky." She gently stroked his cheek
on one of the few un-bruised portions of his entire body. Ray'' eyes
closed. Ben and the doctor's eyes met. She recognized the pain he was
feeling for his friend, the horror at what had been done. "Physically,
he'll recover in a few weeks" but mentally? Emotionally? Maybe. Maybe
never. She took a deep breath, and continued, "He's going to need a lot of
help to get through this. He's going to need all the help he can get, all
the support available." Will you be there for him? or will you run from
the idea of what happened to him? Are you *really* his friend, or just a
casual acquaintance?  

Ben chewed the inside of one cheek, moistened his lips with the tip of his
tongue. Looking closely at the, apparently, sleeping Ray, "I'm in for the
long trip." He said meeting her eyes.  

She looked confused, for a moment, then: "Oh. You mean the Long Haul."	

His gaze flickered for a moment. "Ah, yes, the long haul. Yes, I'm in it
for the long haul." He confirmed.  

She smiled Good. "Is there anyone else to contact, who'd be willing to
help?"	

Francesca? Probably. Mrs. Vecchio? Probably not, she may not be able to
handle this. The leftenant? Wish I could say for certain; Huey? Maybe.
Dewey? No. The ex Mrs. Kowalski? Yet another maybe. Would the
inspector...?  

"Constable?"  

"Sir!?" he nearly snapped to attention; would have, but for Ray's hand,
still firmly clasped in his own.  

She glanced at the patient. The bruises, welts, and cuts covering most of
his torso, caused her to flinch in sympathy. "I..." she stopped, looked
back at Ben, "Take all the time you need. If you need *anything*, let me
know." She nodded to the doctor in acknowledgment before turning and
exiting the room.  

The inspector? Yes, guardedly. He hadn't even gotten to thank her, he
thought in surprise. Ben looked back at the doctor, "I don't know how
many. There's me, for certain. Other than that, I can't be sure."  

The doctor nodded, "It'll have to do, for a start. We'll just have to wait
and see who else shows up. Let's get him prepped for surgery, people." She
said to her nursing staff. All the samples had been taken, all wounds
tended to but the interior ones.  

Ben flinched, "Ah, he's asleep." He said, softly to the doctor.  

She smiled at him, "I know. Will you be here for him when he wakes up?"  

"Yes."	

No hesitation, she thought. Good sign. Ben finally released Ray's hand as
they moved him to surgery. 

Welsh arrived in the waiting room while Ray was still in surgery. The
other tests had shown both kidneys and spleen bruised (no surprise,
there), but not (hopefully) permanently damaged. Having seen everything he
had, Ben had a hard time accepting the idea that Ray was, in fact, very
lucky.	

"How's he doin'?" Welsh asked, dropping down in a chair.  

"He's in surgery. They have some internal damage to repair. They said he
was lucky." How can you call it lucky. He could have died. You saw what
they did to him...he's alive. That's enough, for now, Ben thought, unable
to verbalize.  

"Do you think he cracked?" Welsh wondered.  

Ben froze. That was what was behind this. Ray, the *real* Ray *his* Ray,
had been suspected of being what he was, a plant, and *this* Ray, the new
Ray, the false Ray, had been the whipping boy for it.  

"I don't think so, leftenant. If he had, they would most assuredly have
killed him. We'll have to wait to ask him."  

"Yeah, you're probably right. They'd a offed him for sure, and dropped Ray
on our doorstep, too. Just in case, though, watch your back." Welsh
replied. They awaited word, both men sunk in the morass of wondering who,
how , why..., no, they knew *why*.  

The interminable wait was, in reality, only about an hour. Ray was kept in
recovery only briefly, his doctor wanting her patient to wake with Ben
near by. Ray was given a room by himself, on the doctor's orders. They had
placed him on his side, his back toward the wall, at the doctor's
insistence, which consideration was not lost on Fraser and Welsh. It was
another two hours before Ray finally regained consciousness. Due to the
nature of his injuries, they hadn't put a hospital gown on him. There were
several different bags feeding into his IV. There was a sudden catch in
Ray's breathing, as he awoke. His eyes flew open in fear.  

"Ray, you're safe. You're in the hospital." Ben reminded him.  

Ray knew that voice. He breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized Ben.
"Fraser." He murmured, confused. "The last thing I remember, was in the
ER? " worried face.  

"You fell asleep, before they could prepare you for surgery. That
was...three hours and forty-two minutes ago." Ben replied, glancing at his
watch.	

Ray nodded. Welsh moved into his field of view and Ray involuntarily
cringed away, his breath catching in fear. Welsh froze. Ray forced himself
to relax. "Sorry. I'm...I guess I'm still a little spooked." Spooked,
yeah, sure. Try terrified. Close eyes, deep breath, exhale, open eyes.
He's the boss. It's OK.  

"Don't sweat it." Laboured pause, "I gotta ask ya...."	

Ray actually managed a grin. "I was so thirsty, and I hurt so bad, but
when the asked me the last time? After...? I woulda told 'em anything they
wanted to know. If I could." His eyes were down, fingers plucking idly at
the covers. He looked up, directly into Welsh's eyes. "I tried. But all I
could get out was 'I'm Ray'." He looked down again, "I could see it. He
believed me. I'm glad I'm good for something." He shook his head in
wonder. "If they'd only given me a glass of water..." his voice trailed
off. The real Ray's cover was safe. The bad guys methods were sound. They
just blew it on one little detail. A  

detail that could mean a world of difference in the coming case. Ray
started trembling.  

"Are you cold, Ray?" Fraser asked,  

"It's reaction, shock. I'll get the doctor." Welsh retreated.  

Ben pulled a chair close to Ray's side, and picked up the hand not stuck
full of IVs, in both of his own. "Shh, You're safe. No one's going to hurt
you anymore. I'm here." He couldn't bring himself to say that it would be
all right. It might not *ever* be all right, ever again. But he could
protect this man. Be the friend he had been pretending to be for the
cause, for the case, for his *real* best friend. This man was still so
broken up from his divorce, that putting his life in danger had seemed
like a *good* idea. He was aware of Ray's lack of self-esteem; his
self-deprecating remarks, almost self- loathing; his 'if only I was:
smarter, cuter, better, more', remarks; and now this. Maybe he felt that
this was all he deserved. "I'm here." He repeated, giving Ray's hand a
comforting squeeze.  

The doctor arrived. She took Ray's hand from Ben, with a pat on his
shoulder. "Get me a couple of heavy blankets, and an extra pillow." She
said to the orderly who had followed her in; he turned back immediately to
get the requested items. She smoothed a hand across Ray's face, cupping
his jaw. "Welcome back to the land of the living. Do you want something
for the pain?"	

Ray swallowed, hard. "N-no. I-I-I'm j-j-just k-kinda..." he was shivering,
violently. The orderly returned.  

"Thank you." She smiled at him, pleased. He'd brought heated blankets.
Enlisting Ben's assistance, they spread the thick, warm blankets over the
shivering Ray. As they tucked the warmth around Ray's trembling body, the
shivering subsided. Dr. Davis then took the extra pillow and placed it in
front of Ray's body, beneath the covers. He wrapped his arms around it,
almost an involuntary reaction, hugging the pillow to his body, curling
himself around it. Ray nuzzled his face into the pillow and almost
instantly fell asleep. Dr. Davis looked up at Ben, smiling, "Works every
time."	

"How is he?" came a soft voice from the door. Ben looked over, surprised. 


"He's asleep, sir."  

The doctor looked at him oddly; "Uh, were you hit on the head?" she asked,
softly, "That's a woman."  

"I am quite well aware of that fact, doctor. She happens to be my superior
officer; therefore due the term 'sir' as a sign of respect."  

The doctor shook her head in amusement. Addressing the newcomer, "I'm Jen
Davis, Mr. Vecchio's doctor." She said, extending her hand.  

"Inspector Thatcher, RCMP." Taking the proffered hand. Firm handshake,
pleasing both participants.  

"He's doing much better than I had expected. His injuries, while painful
in the extreme, aren't really as severe as they appear. He should be able
to go home in a week or so; providing the emotional support is in place." 


"I don't understand?" the inspector replied.  

"You *are* aware of what happened?" Thatcher nodded, Fraser listened,
intently. "The physical injuries are the least of our worries, now. As
hard as it is for a woman to go through a rape, it's infinitely more
difficult for a man. Men tend to feel that they should be immune to such
assaults. The reality can be devastating." She stopped, gauging their
reactions. Satisfied, she continued. "Often, unable to cope, unable to
accept what has happened," she paused, "Well, a lot of them end in
suicide." Noting their pending protests, "It's the reality. Ignoring it,
or pretending that it will just go away, is the main reason they die.
Without strong emotional support, the depression is deadly."  

"What can we do to help?" Thatcher asked. Fraser's eyebrows went up in
surprise, as he looked at his supervisor. His gaze returned to the doctor,
expectantly.  

"Just be there for him. While he's here, we'll figure out his signals,
when he needs a hug, whether he needs to be held, or just touched. What to
say, how to calm his panic attacks,"  

Lt. Welsh had re-entered the room at the beginning of her speech. "It's
gonna be pretty tough on him. Even worse than it's already been, isn't
it?" he asked.	

The doctor nodded. "Surviving the initial attack is really the least of
our worries. The aftermath can be even more traumatic and devastating."
She paused, "He doesn't seem to be showing the normal reactions. He seems
to have skipped denial and anger and gone straight to depression. I
understand that all this was done since Friday evening, and he was found
this morning, Monday?"	

"Late this Morning." Fraser concurred.	

"Do you have an idea why he'd have skipped steps?"  

Thatched looked puzzled, Welsh looked down, Fraser looked thoughtful.  

"Ah, I'm not certain, but he *has* made a number of, rather, well, self-
deprecating remarks. He made some comments, something about..." he glanced
at Welsh, who wouldn't meet his eyes. "it being all he was good for."  

Welsh sighed, "Yeah, well." He thought a moment longer, "He came to us as
a trade from vice. His divorce coincided with a really nasty kiddie-porn
case, some kids were...Anyway, the combination really tore him up." That's
why he agreed to this, his eyes said to Fraser, who nodded his
understanding.	

"Ouch" the doctor and inspector winced, together.  

"That makes it worse. His self-worth was already low, so, this on top of
it could push him over the edge." She looked at each of them, her eyes
ending with Fraser, "It's going to be up to you to help him through this.
If you're not up to it, tell me now."  

The inspector was startled at her inclusion, then she looked at Fraser's
patented 'big-eyed mountie' expression. Hope? Pleading? Hard to tell; but,
under the circumstances...she sighed. "What can I do to help?" she
couldn't believe those words just came out of her mouth; but the look of
relief and gratitude on her subordinate's face made it worth it.  

"Yeah. What do you need?" Welsh added. Fraser smiled, meeting the doctor's
eyes.  

"Good. Fraser, here already volunteered. How about family?"  

Welsh shifted nervously. "Well, he's kinda on the outs with his family,
right now, except for maybe his sister. She's a civilian aide. I'll ask
her."  

The doctor nodded sadly. "You may be right. No support is better than any
that is half-hearted, or duty-bound, grudgingly given." She paused. Yep.
One half-hearted, one duty-bound, but one... her gaze again fell on
Fraser...one whole-hearted. It could well be enough. It might have to be.
"How about the ex-wife? Girlfriend?"  

The two men shook their heads, "He's divorced, still carrying a pretty big
torch, from what I've seen" Welsh informed her. "Fraser, here, is probably
closer to him than anybody else." Shit! At least the *real* Ray had a
loving mother and the rest of his crazy family to back him up, besides the
mountie, but *this* Ray...he had nobody. Foisted off on him, the only
person who had bothered to even *try* to get close was the mountie. What
did that say for the rest of them? The mountie was carrying the deception
better than all of the rest of them, combined. Remembering the little
details, like birthdays. If this scheme *did* work, it would be as much
the mountie's doing, as either Ray. Decision made, Welsh squared his
shoulders and raised his head; He'd be damned if he was going to let the
bastards win. Even if he had to hang on to him personally to keep him
alive.	

Jen noticed the change. Ah, guilt can be wonderful. He's been unfair,
unkind, something, to her patient, now he owed him. Could work. The
inspector...She could see genuine sorrow there, compassion for Ray's
plight. Changing attitudes. Don't know why. Don't care. The patient was
the important one  

"Fraser? Would you mind staying with Ray?"  

Ben looked at the inspector, "It's all right. We can adjust your schedule
however it becomes necessary."	

"Thank you, sir." Then, to the doctor, "I can stay, although...Dief?" The
wolf poked his head out from his hidey-hole under Ray's bed. "Would you
care to go with the inspector? She's going back to the consulate..."  

The animal growled, ending on a whine.	

"You aren't even supposed to be here, there are rules..."  

"Whine"  

"That's all right," the doctor broke in, somewhat startled by his
heretofore unsuspected presence, "I won't tell, if you don't. AND you keep
his presence *real* quiet."  

"Understood. Actually, Diefenbaker rather likes Ray." Said wolf again
disappeared under the bed.  

"You can sleep in the other bed, if you like. It's a lot more comfortable
than the chairs." Jen offered.	

"I'll bring you back some other clothes" Thatcher offered.  

"Thank you, kindly, sir." They left, leaving Ben alone with his sleeping
friend. 

"Doctor," Thatcher began, as they walked down the hall. Jen smiled
encouragingly. "What *are* his chances?"  

"If he can get past the depression, if he feels cared for, worthwhile; the
chances are always good. If not..." she shrugged. No time for sugar
coating. Force reality on them.  

"Why did you put a pillow *Under* the covers?"	

Jen smiled, she'd had such questions frequently. Her somewhat holistic
approach to medicine had had a lot of nay-sayers, until they had proven to
work; "One way to help severe trauma like this, is to give the patient
something safe to cling to. Like a child and his security blanket, or
favourite stuffed toy. Didn't you have a favourite toy or doll as a child?
One you dragged around with you everywhere? You saw how quickly he relaxed
and fell asleep? *Without* more drugs. Much healthier. Physically *and*
mentally. It's something I picked up in pediatrics; it translates very
well to these types of cases."	

Welsh was obviously embarrassed, Thatcher looked thoughtful, nodding,
finally. "Understood." Then with a mental shake, "Let me know what I can
do to help. Call me any time." She handed the doctor her card, the one
with both work and home telephone numbers on it.  

"Yeah, me too" Welsh agreed, also handing over a card on which he had
written his home number. "I'll check on his sister and let you know." He
added, lamely.	

The doctor nodded, smiling. "The more support, the better the outcome.
Fraser and he must be very close." She hinted.	

Welsh nodded, "Yeah, Vecchio's a good cop, but he's even better when the
mountie tags along. Kinda weird, ya know? But it works. His arrest and
conviction rates are way up. One of the highest in the whole
department...but if you tell him I said that, I'll deny it!"  

She shook her head, "No. That's for you to tell him. That's the kind of
support and encouragement I've been talking about. If his co-workers visit
him *regularly*; *frequently*; tell him he's missed, he's
needed...*that's* what will help."  

Welsh hung his head, sighed, nodded, "Yeah. I guess it would." wish I'd
bothered with the guy before this. This sucks. Dead Donkeys. Big time. He
sighed again, raising his head to meet her direct gaze. "I'll see what I
can do. He *is* a good cop. A good man." One *I* forgot might be in
danger. One *I* forgot to protect. Damn. This should have never happened.
More determined than before, "I'll call here when I have anything. I'll
also be back tomorrow."  

Jen smiled, satisfied. She touched his arm, encouragingly. "Thank you. I'm
looking forward to helping your man through this. Just remember, Attitude
is Everything." She patted his arm as she turned back toward Ray's room.  

Walking out of the hospital, Welsh started running scenarios on how to get
his guys to help with this. The new guy, Dewey, the guy was dumber than
dirt. Even worse than Louis had been. Huey, on the other hand, he was a
smart guy... 

The door opened softly, the doctor's head appearing in the opening, then
slipping in quietly.  

Fraser looked up. "He's still asleep."	

She nodded,, as she pulled a chair up beside him as he reclined on the
room's spare bed. "Did you understand all that?" she asked, referring to
the earlier discussion.  

"I think so," he replied hesitantly, "When he has a nightmare, I'm to wake
him up and...hold him?" The uncertainty and discomfort was palpable.  

Oh, boy, another one of these 'strong, silent, *macho* types'. She sighed.
Why? Just once, a sensitive, caring man would be *sooo* nice. Oh, well.
"Do you remember how, as a child, when you had a bad dream, your mother
would pick you up and hold you? Or when you fell and scraped your knee,
how she'd pick you up and hug you?"  

He blushed, hanging his head, a lost, confused look on his face, "Um, ah,
I'm afraid not. Not really. I don't really remember my mother very well.
Ah, she died when I was six." he was embarrassed.  

"So, you were raised by your father?"  

"Ah, no, actually, uh, I was raised by my grandparents."  

OK. Pulling teeth time. "OK, your grandmother, then."  

He wouldn't meet her eyes. His answer, when it came, was so soft, that she
had to strain to hear it. "No."  

Shock. "What? *Never?*"  

"Not that I can recall" Embarrassed. "She didn't believe in coddling. Said
it made people weak."  

Damn. Head down, blushing a furious shade of red in his discomfort. *Not*
the macho man. Still a lost, small boy, who needed a hug, himself. She
rose from her chair and slipped onto the bed beside him. facing him. She
reached out and pulled him close in a warm embrace. He stiffened,
resisting. She tightened her grip.  

"It's OK. This is a hug." just a hug. A human touch. Nothing to worry
about. Nothing to be afraid of. He relaxed just a bit, his arms
tentatively returned the hug. "People don't break that easily," she
whispered in his ear, "You can hug harder than that." He did. He buried
his face in her shoulder, trembling. "Shh, it's OK. Haven't you ever been
hugged by a friend before?"  

"No." he whispered back, shivering at her touch. "When Ray has a
nightmare, you wake him up, gently, reassure him that he is safe, that you
won't let anyone hurt him, and you pick him up like this and hug him. Hold
on to him until he calms down. He may cry. Hold him and keep talking to
him. No matter how long it takes. One minute, or one hour. You hold on to
him and you talk to him. You *don't* tell him to hush up. You don't tell
him that everything is OK. You reassure him he's safe. You don't lie to
him. That's it." she said, then released him. He let go, rather
reluctantly, she thought. "OK?" she asked. Are you OK? Do you understand?
Can you do this?  

He took a deep breath; met her eyes with a serious expression: "Yes."
Simple. The hug had felt...wonderful. No expectations, no promises, no
tension. Just a hug. Warm, comforting, human contact. "I can do this." Of
course I can. I am a mountie. He wasn't totally convinced.  

"You'll do fine. If he becomes hysterical and you can't bring him down,
call the night nurse, and she'll give him a sedative. I'd rather avoid any
more medication than absolutely necessary, but it will be available if you
need it." She patted his shoulder, as she rose. "Anything really serious,
and they'll call me. And I tend to stick around on these cases. If you
need anything, let me know."  

"Yes. Thank you."  

She smiled as she left him to his vigil. 

He settled back on the bed, hands laced over his stomach. Searching his
memory, he could not recall any member of his family ever hugging him. Oh,
yes, dim memories of his mother, but, his father? grandparents? Never... 

"Strange goings on, son."  

Ben looked up at his father's ghost, "Hello, dad."  

Bob Fraser looked at the sleeping Ray. "He's a good one. One to take the
long trail with, son."	

"Yes. He is. I just wish..."  

"You can't change what's past, son."  

"I know." Silence, each in their own deep thoughts. "Dad?"  

"Yes, son?"  

"Why didn't anyone ever hug me?" What was wrong with me?  

"We just weren't the hugging type, son."  

"Oh." disappointed.  

"Your grandmother was a stern woman. She was always going on about 'Be
Strong'. 'None of that mush, it'll make you weak'." He paused, looking
closely at his son, "Do you remember?"	

"Yes." Ben sighed "That may have been..." he stopped. He looked up at his
father, "I think she was wrong. I don't feel strong, tough. I feel...lost.
Alone. Afraid." his voice trailed off in a whisper.  

"She had the right idea for her time and place, son. Or maybe it was right
for her, and me, too, I suppose. I know it hurt your mother;" he paused,
looking with concern at his son. "And you, as well, I suppose. I'm sorry.
I never did learn to tell you how I felt."  

Ben looked up into his father's eyes, tears glistening in his own. "I love
you, dad."  

"I wish I could hug you now, son. I wish I had when I was alive. I'm
sorry."  

Ben nodded. "Me, too." 

A soft moan interrupted them. Ben looked over at Ray, who had curled into
a tight fetal ball. Another moan, followed by a whimper. Ben swung his
legs off the bed and stood, moving toward the man in the other bed.  

"Ray?" he touched Ray's arm, just below the shoulder.  

Ray flinched away. "No! Please. No...Please..." the first word strong,
fading into a whimper.	

Ben followed the doctor's instructions. "Ray." he called, his grip on the
upper arm tightening, "Ray, wake up? Ray?" he gently shook the arm, afraid
he might hurt him, "Ray?"  

Suddenly, Ray sat up, with a gasp, he was taking a breath to scream, when
he opened his eyes and recognized Fraser. He let go of the pillow he'd
held clutched in his arms, and reached out to Ben, wrapping his arms,
tightly around Ben's waist, burrowing his face against Ben's chest.
Carefully, mindful of Ray's raw, injured back, Ben slid one arm behind
Ray's neck, his hand carefully gripping the opposite upper arm, the other
hand going to Ray's hip, he sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled the
slighter man into his lap.  

"It's OK, Ray. You're in the hospital. You're safe." he murmured,
soothingly. Ray started to shiver. Ben reached for the blankets, pulling
them up and around his friend, securing them around Ray's neck. "It's all
right, now, Ray. Shh. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you. Shh. You're
safe." he began to gently rock, cradling the frightened man; holding him
close. The shivering subsided after a time.  

"Sorry." Ray whispered when he could finally speak, trying to pull away.  

Ben tightened his grip; "It's OK. That's why I'm here." He didn't add that
the way Ray was clinging to him made him feel, well, needed, important,
wanted. Ray relaxed into the embrace, eyes closing.  

"You give pretty good cuddle, you know that, Fraser?" he murmured,
snuggling closer.  

"Cuddle?" confused..  

"Mmmhmm." and Ray fell back asleep.  

Ben held him, rocking back and forth for a while longer, making sure he
would stay asleep, then eased him back down in the bed. Ray had relaxed
and stretched out, as he had been held. Ben replaced the pillow, wondering
at it's purpose. Moving away, he settled himself back on the other bed. He
leaned back, laced his fingers behind his head, and closed his eyes.  

"That was well done, son." His father's ghost spoke.  

Ben sighed, opening his eyes to see his father watching Ray sleep. "Thank
you. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." He didn't dare admit to
his father that he had *liked* it. That it made *him* feel better. That he
was helping his friend, but at the same time, receiving something in
exchange. His father seemed uncomfortable, "What is it, dad?" His father
met his son's questioning gaze.  

"This isn't your responsibility, son. You don't *have* to do this."  

"He's my friend, dad. This is something friends do. You'd do it for Buck."
 

"Well, yes. Of course. If he wanted me to. Which he wouldn't, by the way."
A moment to let that sink in, "But this man isn't even the fellow you're
friends with."	

"It's possible to have more than one friend, dad."  

"Humph. One good friend is all a man needs, son." he insisted.	

"Like you and Buck?"  

"Exactly!"  

"Wasn't Gerard one of your friends?"  

"Just what I was talking about. See what happened? He *murdered* me."  

Ben shook his head, "I *like* having more than one friend, dad. Besides,
being friends with *this* Ray *is* being friends with the other Ray." He
looked at the sleeper. "He's being the best friend of all. He's been
tortured, and...worse, just to protect a fellow police officer he doesn't
even know." he looked at his father, "This is the *least* I can do. For
them. For both of my friends." True, I didn't *choose* this one, but my
commitment to *my* friend, required that I *pretend* that this man was my
friend. And...the pretense has become reality. Now he is truly my friend."
he looked at his father, solid, stern. 'Take it or leave it', his gaze and
body language said.  

Bob Fraser nodded. "Good. I just wanted to make sure you knew what you
were getting into."  

Ben smiled, "Good night, dad." Closing his eyes.  

"Good night, son." his father replied, disappearing. At ease in his own
mind, Benton Fraser fell asleep. 

Surprisingly, both men slept through the rest of the night. The nursing
staff, familiar with Dr. Davis' unusual, holistic approach to her patients
(no one was willing to argue with her success), had kept their checks to a
quiet minimum, not disturbing either sleeper. 

It was barely six am, when Dr. Jen Davis quietly entered the room. She
looked at Fraser, curious. Fully dressed, flat on his back, hands folded
across his stomach, not a single wrinkle in the bedding, indicating he
hadn't moved at all since lying down. Amazing. Ray lay tangled in his
bedding, but his face was peaceful. Good. She moved between the sleepers.
Ben opened his eyes at her approach; she smiled in greeting,  

"How was last night?" she whispered.  

Ben sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He stretched,
cat-like, arms overhead, back arching. Coming down, he returned her smile.
"He only woke up once. It wasn't too bad."  

She nodded, her smile widening. Good. He didn't seem too terrified. "Did
he say anything?" curious about her patient's mental state.  

Ben blushed, he did it so easily, she thought. "Ah, well," his confusion
was apparent. "He said...I gave good cuddle?"  

She stifled a laugh. She reached out to touch his arm. "That's terrific."
she told him. At his lost expression, she added "A cuddle is..." Sheesh,
how do you describe a cuddle? "Well, a cuddle is...a hug, which goes a
little farther; a little more than a hug, more contact? or...?"  

His expression cleared "Ah. The rocking?"  

She smiled, relieved. "That could do it." She agreed. She turned toward
her patient, who, in spite of their care to try to remain quiet, was
showing signs of waking up. He shifted uncomfortably, and groaned, then
opened his eyes, confused, fear starting; then he saw Fraser, and relaxed,
visibly. He drew a deep, cautious breath.  

"OK. I remember." His arms tightened around his extra pillow.  

Jen smiled encouragingly at him. "How are you feeling this morning?" She
inquired.  

He met her eyes. "Hurts."  

He reminded her of a child. "Worse? Better? The same?"	

He thought about it. "Better." he decided. "Definitely better." He drew
another deep breath, wincing at the ache in his ribs. "So, what's the
verdict?" he asked.  

She smiled; yep. Just like a cop. Bottom line. "Good news? Nothing broken
or permanently damaged. Both shoulders were dislocated,"  

He grimaced. "That I definitely remember." he cracked.	

She gave him a slight smile. "Both wrists sprained and abraded;
elbows...pretty good. I lost count, but one of the nurses put the count at
137 stitches, in total, 29 of them internal." Both men flinched at that.
She pushed on "Bruised ribs, thorax, kidneys, and spleen. That's good
news. We'll have to keep an eye on the kidneys, though, at least for a few
days. And, last but by no means least, two wrenched knees, and bruises too
numerous to list. The knees are going to keep you down for at least a
week, maybe longer. I'm going to put soft casts on them sometime today. I
just wanted you to be fully aware before we did it." She waited.  

Ray's jaw clenched, "I don't even remember the knees." He chewed on his
lower lip. Finally, meeting her eyes. "How soon on the blood tests?"  

She realized she'd been holding her breath, waiting for this. She exhaled,
softly. "More good news. They used condoms. There was no...foreign matter
or residues left behind. We're still running tests. So far, no STDs. HIV
will take a few more days to get back. Unfortunately, even if you check
out clear, you'll still have to take another test every six months for the
foreseeable future." He grimaced, and gave an involuntary shiver.
"Prognosis is excellent." He closed his eyes. Breathing deeply. She knew
it was frightening.  

"OK. So, now what do we do?" he asked, looking up.  

She glanced at Fraser, he had a 'deer caught in the headlights'
expression. "Well. We'll cast your knees. Is there anyone to help you if I
were to release you?" already knowing the answer.  

"No."  

She nodded, good, he didn't lie. "Well, with your knees the way they are,
I'm going to have to keep you here for at least a week." She looked down,
then back up into Ray's eyes, "I'd like you to consider attending a
therapy group I have. At least once while you're here." He stiffened. "Not
today, Not tomorrow. Just one. Sometime this week." Their eyes locked.
Hers - adamant. His - hurt, fearful. "It won't be easy, I know. The other
members of the group are women. A couple of them will be pretty nasty. But
you all have the same...difficulties to work through....It's important."
You need this. Please, let me help you.  

His gaze shifted to Fraser. No help there...just...concern...for him. He
remembered the aftermath of his nightmare the night before. "OK. Maybe."
He started trembling again. Jen reached out to him, but he stiffened. She
backed up, with a look at Fraser. Ben nodded. He sat on the edge of Ray's
bed, reaching out to touch his hand. Ray met his eyes and grabbed hold
tightly, screwing his eyes closed. When he regained some control, he
opened his eyes to two concerned faces.  

"I'm OK" he whispered, having difficulty swallowing. They both nodded. Jen
poured a glass of water and handed it to him with a straw bent down. He
accepted and drank deeply.  

"You're being fed intravenously, for now; for at least the next couple of
days." no need to explain why. "But you can have all the water you can
drink. There's a bed pan under the bed..."  

There was a sudden whine from that location; Fraser looked chagrined.  

"Sorry. I'd better take him out for a run." The wolf scooted out from
under the bed, trotting anxiously toward the exit, mountie close behind.
When they'd gone:  

"He's agreed to stay with you." Ray looked askance at her. "For the
nightmares?"  

He nodded, understanding. "Last night. He woke me up from one." He sighed.
"He gives good cuddle."  

She smiled, gently, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "That's what he said
you said. He didn't know what a cuddle is." Blank stare. "His family
didn't believe n touching. Of any kind."  

He shuddered in horror. "That's awful!"  

She smiled. Maybe repair two damaged psyches. "If you let him help you,
you will be helping him." she encouraged.  

He hugged his pillow closer, nodding "Yeah. I guess so." Unsure, but
willing; the cuddle *had* helped. The doctor reached over and patted his
hand.  

"I have to go check in,. I'll be back later, if you need anything, just
ask." he nodded. She turned and left the room. Alone, he closed his eyes,
trying to process everything, the fear was still foremost. Even so, he
dropped back to sleep. 

The door opened, silently. Inspector Thatcher noticed that Ray was alone.
She entered, placing a small suitcase on the spare bed. She crossed
quietly to Ray. From under her arm, she removed another bag, made of
plastic. She carefully removed an item from the bag. Ever so carefully,
gently, she removed his arms from the pillow and substituted the soft,
plush bear she had brought him. The moment she replaced one of his hands
on the bear, he stirred, moaning softly, hands stroking the toy, he hugged
it tightly, mumbling something in his sleep, relaxing further into
slumber. She smiled, an odd, sadly wistful smile, and turned to leave. The
door opened as she reached it. Dief bounded in, barely glancing at her.
His companion, right behind him.  

"Oh. Sir. Good morning." He had hardly expected to see her this early, it
was barely six-thirty.	

"I brought you some things I thought you might need." She pointed to the
suitcase on his bed.  

"Thank you, sir." His eyes flickered past the suitcase, to Ray. His brow
furrowed in confusion, "Ah, sir?" 

She met his look, calmly. "Yes?"  

"Ah, sir, did you? I mean, well..." he gestured helplessly toward Ray.	

"You mean the teddy bear?"  

He sighed, "Yes, sir?"	

She echoed his sigh. "It was something the doctor said. I saw that later,
and, well...it *does* have more personality than a pillow." Of course, she
wasn't about to tell him that she had spent more than just a couple or
hours testing, and hugging bear after bear to find just the right one. His
face still showed confusion. "Oh, for heaven's sake." exasperated. "Didn't
*you* ever have a stuffed toy as a child?" He turned pale. 

"Yes. A rabbit..."  

"Well, didn't you drag it around everywhere with you?" he was trembling,
barely perceptible, but trembling; her ire turned to concern,  

"Not..." he swallowed, "When I went to live with my grandparents, my
grandmother took it. I never saw it again."  

She stared, horrified, "That's inhuman." she whispered in reply. She saw
him close down, the shutters closing down, the walls rising up. He
wouldn't (couldn't?) meet her eyes. Involuntarily, she reached out,
grasping his arm. "It's like a child's security blanket. Dr. Davis
mentioned it last night on the way out, when I asked about the pillow, I
was just trying to help." Him. I was trying to help him. Not hurt you. I
didn't know. I'm sorry. her eyes and touch were trying to tell him. When
his damp eyes finally met hers, her heart nearly broke for the lost little
boy he had been. " 

That was a cruel and unnecessary thing they did, Fraser." It explained a
*lot*.	

He nodded; accepting her compassion, uncomprehendingly grateful to her.
For caring for his friend, for him...?	

"I have to get back to work." she continued, releasing his arm as she
turned away. "You're off today, and working the late shift tomorrow. Let
me know if you need anything else." like a hug. She turned and left.  

He sat down. "What is it, son?"  

"Dad? Why?"  

Robert Fraser sighed, "I'm sorry, son. We were wrong." he looked at his
son. "I didn't know about rabbit." he added, but his son wouldn't look at
him. "I'm sorry, son." he said again, softly, and vanished.  

Ben sighed, closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and
fingers of one hand. A movement from Ray brought his attention back to the
here and now. He looked over at Ray. Ray's eyes opened drowsily, his hands
fondling the teddy bear absently.  

"Sorry, Fraser. Guess I fell back asleep." He noticed Ben's expression,
"Hey. You OK?"	

Ben straightened up. "I'm fine, Ray." Ray's expression was doubtful. He
noticed the bear.  

"Uh, where'd this come from?"  

Fraser smiled. "You'd be surprised. I know I was." Ray threw him a puzzled
glance and returned his attention to his examination of the bear.  

"Who?" he finally asked, looking back up at Fraser as he hugged the bear
to himself, absently.  

"It was the inspector." Blank stare.  

"She doesn't even *like* me."  

"Obviously, she doesn't *dis*like you. I admit I was surprised. She said
that Dr. Davis had mentioned something about it when they left last
evening, so when she saw this bear, she bought it for you." he shrugged.  

Ray felt his eyes misting. "That was real nice of her."  

Just then, the door opened, admitting Dr. Davis again. She saw the bear
and smiled, broadly. "Ooh, who was listening? The inspector or the
lieutenant?"  

"The inspector" Fraser answered.  

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse us, I need to check out my patient." She
looked at the rather bedraggled mountie.  

"Why don't you go get cleaned up and changed?"	

He nodded, picked up the suitcase and, after receiving directions to the
Doctor's Lounge, left; Dief remained under Ray's bed. Dr. Davis was quick
and impersonal in her examination. She had brought a pair of soft casts
for his knees.	

"I'm still amazed by how minimal the damage is" she mentioned as she
applied the second knee brace.	

"They were real pros. They knew how to make it hurt, and when to stop,
before I'd pass out." he shook his head. His voice caught, "I think I'd
tell them anything they wanted to hear, to avoid going through anything
like that again." She had no response to that.	

He started thinking; "Then, again, I can't imagine anything worse than
this, and knowing I made it through, maybe pain doesn't have the same
meaning that it had before. Guess I'll have to wait and see."  

There was something hopeful in his ruminations that unaccountably caused a
warm feeling in his doctor's heart. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she had
thought. No denial. No anger. Depression lightening (maybe). Certainly,
acceptance. There was something he was finding worth while in what had
happened. She had no explanations. Just have to wait and see. A nurse
arrived to replace Ray's IV bags. After she'd gone:  

"Have you given any more thought to the therapy sessions?" she asked.  

He sighed, trying to find a comfortable way to lie. She helped him back on
his side and placed the extra pillow between his knees.  

"That'll help" she informed him. "It'll be support so you won't be too
uncomfortable on you side." knowing his back was far too tender to take
any pressure. She carefully rearranged the sheet and blankets, so as to
cover his injuries without irritation, "Normally, they'd bandage your
back, but you'll heal faster if you have air circulation." she smiled at
him. "Is there anything you need before I go?"	

He thought, "Something to do?"	

"Magazines? Books?"  

He thought, "Uh, Ring World? or Sports Illustrated, maybe?"  

"OK. I'll be back in a few minutes." After she'd gone, he hugged his bear
close and snuggled beneath the covers. 

When the door opened, he looked up, an expression of pleased surprise at
his visitor. Any movement was unpleasant, so he didn't move. "Stella!"	

She looked at him, her lips forming a moue of disapproval as she noticed
the bear. "Don't you think you're a little old for dolls, Ray?"  

His grip tightened on his bear. "I guess not. It was a present." 

"Oh, Ray. Grow up."  

His disappointment would have been obvious to anyone else. "Why'd you
come, Stella?"	

"I'm still listed as next of kin, Ray." he looked away.  

"Oh. Sorry." She came closer.  

"So, what happened? They said something about you getting beat up...?" she
realized that her ex-husband hadn't moved. Didn't people in hospitals
usually lie on their backs?  

He blushed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."  

That bear was really annoying her. "Oh, for crying out loud, Ray, lose the
toy."  

He looked up at her. "I'll trade you for it." He offered,  

"For what?" suspicious.  

"A cuddle."  

She stared hard at him. "We're divorced, Ray."	

"I didn't ask for sex, Stella. Just a cuddle." The plea in his eyes
couldn't be missed (by anyone who cared to read it);  

She missed it. "Not on your life, Ray." She *did* recognize the look of
hurt, he was unable to prevent.  

"I'll be fine, Stella. I'll have you removed as the point of contact. You
don't have to come. I know you're busy."  

She reached out and took the bear from his unresisting grasp, with a smug
expression.  

Startled, he lunged for it, moving forward, the covers slipping from his
upper body, revealing his bruised chest and scarred back. She didn't
notice, until his gasp of pain brought her eyes back to him. She stepped
back in horror, her grip tightening on the forgotten toy.  

"What the *hell*?!"  

She was beyond his reach, and the pain left him unable to move, gasping.
"Please..." he moaned.	

Suddenly, there was a white snarling beast between her and her injured ex-
husband. Dief stalked her, his growl rumbling up from his hind toes. She
cautiously backed toward the door, terrified. Eyes not leaving the angry
wolf's.  

When Fraser returned, freshly showered, shaved and dressed, to Ray's room,
he was shocked at the sight that met his eyes. "DIEFENBAKER! NO!!" The
wolf's gaze never flickered from his prey, only his growl got louder.
Fraser, seeing Ray's bear in her hand... 

"That is not yours, Ms Kowalski."  

Her hands lowered, as she risked a startled glance over her shoulder at
him. "You've got to be kidding. Call off your beast."  

Her hands lowered as she addressed the mountie; Dief, taking advantage,
lunged, snatching the bear from her. She screamed. With a disdainful
snort, Dief turned back toward Ray and, placing his front paws on the bed,
handed him back his bear. Ray grabbed it and held it tightly to himself,
eyes screwed closed. Ben was looking at Stella with disapproval, Dief was
again glaring at her, and Ray was trying to curl up into a fetal position,
clinging to his bear, when Dr. Davis entered. Eyes narrowing, who's this? 


"What's going on here? What have you done to my patient?" Dief whined, and
disappeared back under Ray's bed. The doctor crossed the room, tossing
some magazines on the spare bed, and checked Ray for damages. Gently,
touching his arm, she asked softly: "What happened?"  

Ray shivered.  

She turned back to the others, "Well?" irate.  

Stella waved a hand, "I just told him he was too old for toys." She
trailed off, as the doctor raised one eyebrow in disapproval.  

"Says who? Who are you, and why are you tormenting my patient?" She
advanced toward the other woman. "How dare you come in here and pester one
of my patients? WHO ARE YOU?" The last wasn't especially loud, but very
forceful, nevertheless.  

"Ah, This is Ms Kowalski, From the State Attorney's office. She's Ray's
ex- wife." Fraser explained.  

Stella straightened up haughtily. "I simply took that stupid toy, when
that vicious animal attacked me!"  

Ben stiffened, "He did no such thing! He merely took the bear from you and
returned it to Ray" he responded, indignantly.	

Dr. Davis looked Stella over, "If he attacked you, why aren't you
bleeding?" she asked, reasonably.  

Stella had the good graces to blush. "All right, he took the damn bear. So
what? What's so important about a stupid, childish toy?!" She blustered,
finally realizing she'd done something wrong, and trying to shift the
blame.	

Jen Davis knew she was losing it. "Get out. Don't come back. If you *need*
information on this patient, check at the nurse's station. Don't let me
catch you anywhere near my patient again. *DO YOU UNDERSTAND?*" The last
delivered in a soft and deadly tone.  

Stella looked from the doctor to Ben, To Ray. No help anywhere. Ray was
still shivering in a fetal curl. Suddenly, finally, concerned; in a very
small voice, "What happened to him? They said he just got beat up?" This
looked far more serious than a simple beating.	

The doctor was unrelenting, "Get out. *Now*."  

Fraser stepped forward, "Perhaps I can fill Ms Kowalski in?"  

Jen shifted her glare from Stella for a moment, then turned to Ray. Very
softly, "Is that what you want?" slight nod. "Everything?" hesitation.
Weary nod. Jen clenched her teeth. She turned back to Fraser, glanced at
Stella "Use your discretion." Ben met her eyes. Be careful. No more than
she needs to know.  

He nodded, "Understood." He turned and opened the door, holding it for her
to precede him out. Even leaving out the information regarding the rape,
Stella was horrified; and ashamed by her behavior. Normally, Ben was a
considerate and caring person, but Stella had hurt Ray. For no other
reason than her own overblown sense of correctness; and while Ben would
have never thought of giving Ray the bear, he would certainly never dream
of taking it away from him. Therefore, his manner toward Stella Kowalski
was rather cold and distant. He left her in the visitor's lounge and
returned to Ray and the doctor. 

She couldn't get through to him. It was as if he'd gone back into his
initial stage of shock. She gave Ben an exasperated look, as he returned.
"You talk to him. He's closed down. He doesn't trust me, but I'll bet he
trusts you." 

Ben moved to the bed, "Ray?" Ben sat on the edge of the bed and touched
his elbow, "Ray?" Ray wouldn't open his eyes or acknowledge his presence,
but a tear appeared in the corner of one eye.  

"I said I'd trade her the bear for a cuddle." He whispered.  

Jen and Ben's eyes met. Ever so carefully, together, the shifted Ray into
an almost sitting position... Jen slid onto the bed , and she and Ben
enfolded Ray in an embrace between them.  

"Group hug." She murmured softly. Ben felt awkward but, following Jen's
lead, he held on to Ray until he relaxed. After several minutes, Ray
sighed and attempted to escape their embrace.  

"I'm OK, Really." His hands held and stroked his bear. They gently settled
him back into his most comfortable position on the bed. "I'm tired." He
mumbled.  

Jen looked at him, closely, "OK. Do you want to be alone?" he considered,
"That's fine." Which she and Ben interpreted as 'not really'. Just then,
the door opened and Francesca Vecchio entered.	

"How's he doin?" she whispered.  

"Ah, Francesca, this is Dr. Davis. Francesca is Ray's sister..."  

"Welsh called me at home last night."  

"What did Mrs. Vecchio have to say?"  

She frowned, "I didn't tell her." She looked up at Fraser, "She said she
didn't want to know." Sadly. Mrs. Vecchio hadn't wanted anything to do
with the situation. The idea of her son going against The Mob had
terrified her, but she wouldn't have anything to do with the man covering
for her son. To all intents and purposes, she had disowned her son.  

Jen, not aware of all the facts, "His own mother doesn't care? That's
sick." She decided she was angrier with Ray's mother than his ex-wife. The
woman didn't have the kindness of a snake, but at least she had come. Poor
Ray. More pieces for her psychological puzzle.	

Frannie stepped close the man posing as her brother and leaned down toward
him, "How ya doin', bro?" she whispered. Ray looked up at her, sleepily.  

"'m OK." He mumbled, his eyes drifting closed again, as he hugged his bear
tighter, easing down into sleep. She reached out and stroked his cheek.  

"Nice bear." He smiled. She straightened up and turned to the doctor, for
once with more important things on her mind than flirting with Fraser.
"How can I help?"  

Jen smiled brightly at her. "I want to set up a support network. I need
someone to be with him twenty-four hours a day. People who can talk to
him, hug him, comfort him, reassure him, *listen* to him. If he wants to
talk, don't push it back. The more open we can make him, the better." She
looked at Ben, "The ex is *not* welcome."  

Ben nodded, "I think she regrets her earlier actions" he replied.  

Francesca bristled, "What'd she do?" unaccountably feeling protective.	

"She tried to take his bear." Ben replied. Dief poked his head out from
under the bed and made an interrogative noise, "You did well, Dief. Thank
you." Dief grinned and disappeared again.  

Jen shook her head, amused. "He's quite remarkable, he's really protective
of him."  

"Wolves are very protective of those they consider belong to their pack." 


Ben's eyes glazed over for a moment as the truth of his words sunk in.
*This* Ray had been accepted into Dief's pack *so* easily. He'd been
checked out and accepted. No whining, no recriminations, no suspicion. The
first day they had met, Dief had pronounced him acceptable, and *he'd*
been too preoccupied; angry, to be honest, to notice and take Dief's word
on the worthiness of this new partner.	

Frannie peered under the bed, where Dief lay stretched out flat on his
side. He usually ignored *her* unless she had food. Jen watched them,
curious, but not going to pry.	

"So, Francesca? Do you think you could spend a few hours with Ray every
day?" She noticed Ben roll his eyes and shudder slightly. "Maybe in the
early afternoons, late mornings?" she encouraged;  

Frannie considered, "Sure, If Welsh will let me."  

The door opened. "If I let you what?"  

They all turned to him. Dr. Davis checked on Ray. Sleeping. "Why don't we
move this meeting to my office? Welsh glanced at the sleeping detective.  

"Nice bear."  

Jen smiled as did the mountie and Francesca.  

"That's what I said," Frannie said. "By the way, where'd it come from?"  

Ben, unsure of the inspector's wishes on the matter, "I went to take Dief
for a walk, and when we returned, there it was." Absolute truth. The fact
that the inspector was also here was immaterial.  

Welsh thought a moment, brow furrowed, started to speak, then caught
Fraser's eye, and changed his mind. Still meeting Fraser's gaze, he
shrugged slightly. Whatever. The group adjourned to the doctor's office. 

They were a little crowded in the office, with the four of them in there.
Fraser chose to stand in front of the door, allowing Welsh and Francesca
the other chairs. Dr. Davis looked closely at each of them, weighing the
possibilities.	

"Here's what I need. I need people around him *constantly*; encouraging,
supporting, entertaining, *listening*, to him. Get him to open up. Express
what he's feeling, what he's thinking. Even though the physical injuries
will heal within a few weeks, the emotional ones may take a lot longer.
The better the support now, the faster he'll heal." She met each of their
gazes in turn, Francesca, Welsh, Fraser; lingering on Fraser. "He may
*never* return to normal; but it all depends on meeting his needs *now*."
She looked at Welsh, "His ex-wife was just here. If I have to, I want a
restraining order, keeping her away." Her jaw clenched and her eyes
hardened. "She tried to take the bear. That sort of thing *will* not be
tolerated. Right now, emotionally, he's a frightened, hurt, little boy,
who needs nothing more than a lot of hugs, hold his hand, tell him he did
good; Things like that."  

Welsh looked uncomfortable; Frannie looked thoughtful; Fraser's expression
was on of polite interest, but then, he'd already heard this. "If you want
your detective back on the job; if you want your brother back to normal;
you'll follow my instructions." She looked at Frannie, "If there's *any*
way you can get your mother to come see him...?"  

Frannie glanced at Welsh and sighed, "I don't think so. My ma's pretty
tough, when she makes up her mind; and she's really mad at Ray."  

"Too mad to forgive him, after what he's been through?" Frannie looked at
Welsh, who pointedly ignored her. 

"I'm afraid so." She finally answered, sadly.  

The doctor looked at the two men, neither would meet her gaze. There was
something they weren't telling, but she also realized they weren't going
to tell her what they were hiding. She turned to Welsh "I was hoping
Francesca could come in two to three hours a day and sit with him, say,
nine am to noon?"  

Welsh thought, "Sure. That would be OK. It's work related." He locked eyes
with Francesca, "That OK with you?" she nodded. "I plan on coming by for a
while, too; say, noon to two p.m.?" he looked at the doctor, who nodded,
pleased.  

"That would be fine. Now all I need is early morning, late afternoon, and
early evening. I've got the nights covered." She smiled at Ben, who
volunteered: 

"I have the late shift, tomorrow, and will be getting off at eight p.m.. I
could take the morning and late evening shifts, if you like."  

She frowned, didn't this guy have a life outside of work and this one
friend? "That's too many hours, constable, you need *some* time for
yourself."  

Before Ben could answer, there was the sound of yelling and snarling
coming from the direction of Ray's room. Fraser spun and had the door open
and had started sprinting down the hall before any of the others even had
a chance to stand up. 

There was a crowd surrounding the door to Ray's room. "Excuse me." Fraser
said, as he pushed through. Ray was awake, eyes open wide in fear, as he
stared at the tableau on the floor. Fraser stood, shocked. Diefenbaker had
a strange man, spread-eagle on the floor, right hand bleeding, gun on the
floor nearby; Dief's jaws clamped on the man's throat, not strangling, not
breaking the skin, just holding him.  

"Oh, Dear." 

Diefenbaker sighed contentedly as he snuggled closer.  

"Dief, you come any closer 'n you're gonna end up on the other side." Ray
murmured sleepily, arm around the wolf. 

Ben looked over from the other bed. "You shouldn't have let him up, Ray.
You let a wolf save your life and they make you pay, and pay, and pay..." 


Ray hugged Dief. "'S OK. I don't mind. It's not like I feed him junk, or
anything."  

Ben shook his head, smiling. He'd been in the same position a few times,
himself.  

"I still can't believe it. What do you suppose possessed him to come back
after you, Ray? 

Ray stretched, carefully, and yawned, still careful of his injuries, and
thought about the events of three days earlier.  

"I don't know, , Fraser. I think they expected me to die before you got
there. The doctor said I was closer to dying from dehydration than the
injuries." He nuzzled his face into Dief's ruff, then pulled back and blew
across his ear. The ear twitched, making Ray smile. "Actually," Ray
continued, carefully shifting over onto his back, "I don't care." He
stretched, again. His back was itching as it healed. "All I know is I'm
feelin' pretty good right now." He really was. He hadn't had more than one
nightmare a night since; he'd finally gotten to eat real, well, hospital,
food that morning just soft junk, like oatmeal, but it *was* food. He was
managing to get himself up and to the bathroom, for the most part.
Although the knee braces made his balance iffy. He'd had lots of visitors.
Huey and his idiot partner Dewey; the Lieutenant, Francesca, the
inspector, Fraser, of course. He wished Stella had come back, but he knew
he'd been pretty out of it the last time, and his kinda pretty doctor had
been *really* pissed at her. He couldn't really remember *why*. Oh well.
The people who *had* come had been really nice, although, he doubted the
sincerity of Huey, and especially his partner Dewey. There was a gentle
tap at the door. Ben and Ray exchanged looks. 

"It's after visiting hours, Ray. Are you up to seeing anyone?"	

Ray shrugged. "Sure. I'm not sleepy, anymore." He picked up the control
and pushed the button to raise the head of his bed. Dief grumbled and
jumped off. Ben got up and answered the door. He stood there in shock at
the woman he saw standing there. She shifted nervously, 

"Did I come at a bad time?" she asked, unsure. 

"No. Ray's awake." He opened the door wider, letting her in. Ray looked at
the woman, curious. He'd never seen her before. He glanced at Ben, who
seemed to know her.  

She approached. She came to a stop beside his bed and looked at him,
closely. Noticing his bruised face and chest, she reached out and gently
stroked his cheek. He shivered, his eyes flickering back and forth between
the woman and Fraser. 

"What brings you here, Mrs. Vecchio?" Ben finally asked. 

She turned her troubled gaze on Ben. "The lieutenant, Welsh?"  

Ben and Ray both nodded, Ray thinking, 'So, *this* is Francesca's mom." 

"He came to see me." Her eyes filled with tears, "He told me what
happened. That I was being unfair. That you..." She could not continue,
the tears falling. This man had gone through this for *her son*, and
survived. "I'm sorry, caro. Can you forgive me?" 

Ray cast his confused gaze from Mrs. Vecchio to Fraser, and back. "Sure."
No problem. Forgive you for what? His eyes asked Fraser.  

Mrs. Vecchio reached out and gently gathered Ray to her. She was soft and
warm. He relaxed into her embrace. He fleetingly wished Stella was as
willing to hug him as everyone else was. Hell, Even Huey had held his hand
and rubbed his shoulder. 

"You come home with me, caro. I'll take care of you." 

Ray pulled away in surprise. "Huh?" 

She looked worried, "You come home, Raimundo. Family takes care of family.
Capisce?" 

Ben smiled. "That makes sense, Ray. Dr. Davis *did* say that the only
thing that would keep you here was a lack of someone at home to help you."
 

Mrs. Vecchio beamed. "Family." She confirmed. 

An expression of abject terror crossed Ray's visage. "You mean your house.
With Francesca, and , uh, Maria, and...uh...her husband and kids?"
Horrified. 

"Si. You need good food. Put some meat on your scrawny bones."	

Ray perked up. Good food? Stuff that wasn't frozen, prepackaged, or
canned? "Well, maybe. If the doctor says it's OK." 

"Says OK to what?" She had an uncanny knack of showing up just as she was
mentioned. She cast a critical gaze on the stranger. 

"Dr. Davis," Fraser began, "Ray's mother was just suggesting he come home
with her to finish his convalescence." 

Jen smiled broadly. "Excellent. I can't think of anything I'd like
better." She turned to Mrs. Vecchio, "I'm *so* glad you decided to put
aside your differences."  

Mrs. Vecchio blushed, "I was wrong." 

Jen nodded. "I need to keep him just a few more days," She looked at her
watch, "I'm sorry, but I need to do doctor stuff with my patient, so, if
you'll excuse us?" 

"Certainly." Ben replied, taking Mrs. Vecchio's arm and escorting her from
the room. 

Once outside, Mrs. Vecchio turned to Ben, "Benton, I am sorry. This
happened because of my son, si?"  

Ben sighed, nodding. "I'm afraid so. It's very kind of you to volunteer to
take care of him, I know this is difficult for you." 

She nodded, "It's my fault. I told Ray that if he did this thing, that he
was dead to me. I was wrong, and this man has taken the punishment for
it." 

"He's done his job well. I just hope that everything else works out as
well." 

Mrs. Vecchio nodded. "You come for dinner, Benton, caro. I've missed you.
And Ray." 

Ben smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Vecchio. I'd like that." he thought a moment.
"Poor Ray. I don't think he has any idea what he's in for." 

Mrs. Vecchio looked shocked, then chuckled. "I'll try to make them
behave." She reached up to pull Ben down for a hug. "Be well, Benton,
caro," and she kissed his cheek.  

He returned the kiss. "You too, Mrs. Vecchio." He watched her as she left,
a bemused expression on his face. He'd have to remember to tell Ray that
the Vecchios only attacked the ones they love. He smiled, remembering all
of *his* visits to the Vecchio household. He felt an uncommon flush of
pleasure and anticipation toward introducing Ray to the entire Vecchio
clan, followed by a stab of grief that the other Ray Vecchio would still
be absent. 

Ray was looking apprehensively at Dr. Davis. "What's wrong?" 

She smiled, reassuringly. "More good news, actually. The rest of the tests
came back. All negative." 

Ray collapsed back against the pillows. He hadn't even been aware of how
tense he had been. He closed his eyes, relieved. "Thank God." He began to
tremble in reaction. She sat down beside him and pulled him up for a hug.
He clung tightly, shaking uncontrollably. She realized that he was crying.
She soothed him as she would a child. "That's OK. Go ahead." She
comforted.  

She began rocking him, stroking his hair. For all it looked so spiky, it
was surprisingly soft. It wasn't long before he cried himself to sleep. As
she gently lay him back down, he shifted to his side and mumbled "Stella."
She paused. Ms. Kowalski had called several times, requesting permission
to visit. She had turned down each request. However....This wasn't the
first time he'd called out her name. She wondered...She looked up when Ben
peeked around the door. She motioned him in. She stood up and indicated a
couple of visitor's chairs far enough away to not disturb Ray. When they
were seated: 

"Tell me about Stella."  

Ben pondered the request. "Shouldn't you ask Ray?" 

She shook her head. "Say her name, and he gets upset. Tell me what you
know, please?" She paused, glancing at Ray. "I need more information
before I'm going to let her back in here."  

Ben nodded. "I don't know her very well. But, well, sometimes she seems to
still care for him, other times she seems to dislike him strongly." 

She nodded encouragingly. "They *are* divorced. That's normal. What about
Ray?" 

Ben blushed, he felt like he was passing secrets he shouldn't be. "I know
he met her when he was twelve or thirteen and has been in love with her
ever since. I don't know how old they were when they got married, nor how
long the marriage lasted. I suspect they married young, he became a
policeman and supported her through her education as she became a lawyer.
I know he wanted children, she wanted a career. They divorced." 

She stared at him. Short, concise, informative. "And he worships the
ground she walks on." She finished for him. 

"I believe he also mentioned that she was from a, er, better class than
he." 

She ground her teeth, but then she looked over at the patient. "I'll bet
he's never dated another woman in his life." She muttered. 

Ben looked surprised. Recalling the first day he met Ray, how he chatted
up every female in the station, trying to get a date, and how he hadn't
seen him talk to another woman since, except on business. "I think you're
right. He likes to dance." 

The sudden non-sequiter fazed her. "What?" 

"He likes to dance. Ballroom, formal. He's quite good, from what I've
seen; he even has dance steps painted on his floor for practice." He
paused, remembering when he met Stella, the way she and Ray had danced
together. "When they danced, it was like..." his eyes clouded in memory,
"Like a movie, Fred Astair; Like they were made to dance together." He
opened his eyes, blushing again, embarrassed. 

"You like them both, don't you?" she asked, touching his arm. 

"I...well, actually, I hardly know her. However, I have seen the way he
looks at her, it's only obvious how he feels about her." 

"OK. The next time she calls, I'll let her see him. But not alone!" she
warned. 

"Understood." 

It was the next day, Saturday, when Stella called again. She didn't know
why she kept putting herself through this. Ray was going to be fine. They
were divorced. They didn't have a relationship. But. She sighed, but she
still cared. So she made the call; and was startled when the doctor agreed
to allow her to see Ray, but only with a chaperone. She agreed. 

When Ray was informed that Stella would be coming in to see him, he was
overjoyed. He fidgeted and worried, stressing over the fact that she was
going to come, wondering *when* she would come.  

It wasn't until Sunday afternoon that Stella made it in. Fraser sat in the
corner farthest from them, giving them as much privacy as he could. She
took a good long look at her ex-husband, realizing just how awful his
injuries looked. She was almost shy. 

"How're you feeling, Ray?" she sat primly on a chair beside his bed, not
touching him, noticing he still kept the bear at hand, idly stroking and
fondling it. 

"I'm OK." He hated how he still got so tongue-tied around her. They'd been
married, for crissakes. "How've you been?" so polite, so formal.  

"Busy. I sorry, I..." she suddenly found herself unable to talk to him.
She rose to leave.  

"Stella!" he sat up, reaching for her, unmindful of the pain quick
movement caused. 

She stopped, not turning to look at him. Not moving. 

"Please?" The plea whisper-soft. So full of emotion that it caused a tear
to form in her own eye.  

Her shoulders slumped. Slowly, she turned back, eyes searching his face.
She couldn't believe that she hadn't seen the damage to his body before.
The bruises were starting to fade; he was able to lie on his back without
agony nor fear that he would tear out the stitches. He still had a great
deal of pain, but seemed to be managing it. He was coherent, not as if he
were on heavy doses of pain medication. The IVs had been removed. He was
healing, physically. The doctor had read her the riot act before allowing
her this far. She had to have a chaperone. That annoyed her, then she
remembered her last visit. He had been hurting, in terrible physical pain.
And she had added insult to injury by her previous actions. She couldn't
fathom how he could possibly want any contact with her. Yet he did. Here
she was. Now what was she going to do about it? 

Hesitantly, she approached again. "I'm sorry, Ray." Afraid to come too
close. 

His gaze was worshipful. He cautiously extended a hand to her. She gently
accepted it. His grip tightened, and he gently tugged her closer, urging
her to sit by him on the bed. Reluctantly, she complied. She was rewarded
with his shy smile. "I'm glad you came." I miss you. I love you. I wish we
could be together, again. 

"I'm sorry. I really blew it when I was here before. I hope you can
forgive me." I wish I didn't care for you so much. I wish we could have
worked things out between us. I wish... 

Ray held up the bear, offering it to her. "You can have this, if you want
it." No offers to trade. No pleading. If it offended her so much, he was
more than willing to give it up. 

She covered her surprise. She took the proffered toy, gently examining it.
It really was very soft and cuddly. She set it in her lap and gently
stroked it with her free hand. It *was* soothing. Soft and warm. She
brought it up to her face. It smelled of Ray, his warm cuddly smell. She
realized that he was speaking to her. She opened her eyes to find his
concerned gaze on her. 

"Stella? Are you all right?" worried about her. Are you sorry you came? Do
you hate me that much? Afraid for himself. 

"Oh, Ray." She handed him back his bear. Then she disengaged their clasped
hands. He knew better than to try to hold on to her. That was the surest
way to drive her away. She sat and looked at him. Watched him struggle to
not show how he was feeling. Realizing that all he really *did* want from
her was a cuddle. At least for now. She reached for him. He met her
half-way. The embrace was cautious, he was afraid of driving her away, she
was afraid of hurting him.  

He buried his face against her at the point where neck and shoulder meet.
Inhaling her perfume, soaking up the warmth from her body, relaxing into
her embrace. "I won't break." He whispered. Pleased when her grip on him
tightened. Relishing every minute contact. His hands starting to stroke
circles on her back. Rubbing her shoulder blades, feeling her cheek as she
rested her face against the top of his head. Sighing in contentment.
Grateful for her presence.  

She hadn't realized just how much she missed this. He had always been a
terrific cuddler, she recalled, resting her cheek on the top of his head.
The feel of his hands on her back and shoulders causing her to relax into
the embrace. Her own hands lightly stroking his back, forcing herself not
to flinch when her fingers snagged on the stitches, soothingly soft on the
welts and bruises.  

Content to hold and be held, they remained in their embrace for nearly
half an hour, not talking, just gently touching, nothing intimate.
Finally, Ray raised his head, looking her in the eye, but not completely
breaking the contact. Not wanting to break the mood. He lifted one hand
and brought it to her face, pushing her hair back, stroking her cheek,
letting his thumb drift across her lips. His eyes asking permission. The
tip of her tongue slipped from between her lips and caressed the
questioning digit. Moving his hand to cup her jaw, he moved closer and
kissed her, a soft, gentle kiss. She disengaged their lips, moving for a
better angle, she kissed him, a bit harder, still gentle, questing. She
opened her lips and her tongue reached out to caress his lips. His mouth
opened, his own tongue joining the play, keeping it gentle, soft. Minutes,
hours? later, they broke the kiss and embraced once more. Just holding
each other. 

Finally, Ray released her, sitting back against the raised head of the
bed. Holding her hands in his. Eyes soft, contented. 

"Thank you." He whispered, squeezing her hands. 

She sat and looked at him. "You're welcome." She was trying to remember
why they had broken apart. At times like this, she never wanted to be
anywhere else but in his arms, at other times, she knew she could gladly
kill him. Why couldn't it be more like this and less like the other? 

Ray picked up the teddy bear. "I told you that I'd trade you this for a
cuddle. Here." He swallowed hard, startled by how difficult this was; by
how much he had come to depend on the toy. 

She reached out and stroked the bear. "No. You shouldn't need to buy a
cuddle." She looked into his eyes, "No one should ever have to buy a hug."
Hoping he understood the heartfelt apology she couldn't speak in words. 

He smiled. "Thank you." 

She rose, preparing to leave.  

"Will you come back?" Will you visit me again? Will you give me another
cuddle? 

"Yes." She was curious, "How long are they going to be keeping you here?" 

Ray sighed, "Couple more days. Sometimes I have trouble breathing, I get
muscle cramps in my ribs, you know?" He couldn't go very far with his
knees in splints, either. "And they want to see if they can take the
stitches out of my back. They say I'm healing really fast, you know?" He
was starting to ramble, so he shut up. 

"I'll come back tomorrow, after court, OK?" He nodded. She bent down and
gave him another kiss, "I'll see you then." He nodded, and she turned and
left. 

Ray closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep. Then he remembered
the 'chaperone'. He looked over at Fraser. "Sorry about that." No, he
wasn't. Not about what happened. Just for having to have an audience. 

"Not a problem, Ray" the mountie said, standing and moving over to the
other bed. "I just got up and left, for a while." He smiled in
embarrassment. "I'm afraid I make a terrible chaperone." 

"No. Just a considerate one." Ray adjusted his bed so he could sleep. Ben
left to take Diefenbaker for a final walk for the evening. 

"I really don't want to do this." Ray was in a wheelchair, legs, for this
trip, out of the splints. He was nervous, scared. He *really* did not want
to go to this therapy session. 

"I know. I understand. It's necessary." She pushed him down the hall and
into the meeting room. The rest of the group was already there. Five
women. All victims of rape. All working through the fear, the anger, and
the despair. Jen was already doubting the wisdom of making Ray come to
this. Since they had caught the men responsible, he had been almost
cheerful, at times. Still... 

"Good afternoon, ladies." She greeted when she had gotten Ray positioned
in the circle of women. One rather large woman glared at Ray. 

"What the F... is he doing here?" angry, bitter, antagonistic. 

"The same thing you are, Chris." Jen answered patiently. 

"Why?" Chris growled. "This is our group. What's a *man* doing here?" she
made the word sound like a curse. 

"Why are you here?" Jen asked. 

"You know why. That SOB who raped me." Belligerent, challenging. 

"So was Ray." 

Chris didn't have an answer for that. The other women looked at Ray in
surprise and commiseration.  

"OK. Now, if that's settled?" Jen began, "Right. Who wants to start?"  

A small, mousy woman raised her hand. "I guess I could go first, Doctor."
She volunteered.  

Jen smiled at her. "Thank you, Sally." 

Sally told the story of her attack and rape at the hands of one of her co-
workers. Hearing the tale, Ray became agitated.  

"What is it, Ray?" Jen asked him, when Sally had finished her story. 

"Didn't you call the cops?" incredulous. 

"Yes. He's awaiting trial, now. I'm here to try to get up the courage to
face him in court." She seemed to shrink into herself. 

Jen watched him, closely. Wondering what he would say. He met her eyes,
his own haunted. 

"If you don't testify, he'll probably walk. Then he'll be able to do it
again. Only the next victim might not be as lucky as you were." Ray
finally said. 

Chris laughed. "Oh, yeah. That's a man talking for you. You don't know
squat! They'll rake her over the coals until the jury is convinced that
she *asked* for it." 

Ray shook his head. "Who's prosecuting?" he asked Sally. 

"Uh, Ms. Kowalski, from the State Attorney's office." 

Ray grinned. "You met her yet?" she shook her head, no. "You'll like her.
She's a real tough broad. One who won't take any guff from anyone."  

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?" Chris challenged. 

What was with this woman? "Couple months ago, she was dating that
alderman, the one got busted for being crooked?" at their nods, he
continued. "Well, at the same time, she was prosecuting this guy for
beating up on his wife. He was stalking her. Tried a couple of times to
blow her up with explosives? Didn't stop her." He didn't mention that she
was his ex-wife, nor his involvement in the case. He looked at Sally,
"She's real nice. She won't let anyone beat up on you, honest." 

Sally smiled at him. "You sound like you know her pretty well." 

He smiled, sadly. "I've known her since we were kids. She's the best." 

"Come on, don't give me that crap. What's your story?" 

"Chris, you know it's policy to let the newcomer go last. Why don't you go
next, instead." This was definitely a bad idea. At least with Chris
involved. 

Chris told her story, how she'd been mugged, and then raped by a pair of
teen-aged boys who had assaulted her on the El, and forced her to go with
them to an empty lot, where they had repeatedly raped her. 

Ray looked at her. If he didn't know better, if she were a man, he would
accuse her of bragging about it. He shook his head, nah, couldn't be. He
asked "How many times?" 

"Five, all together. Guess I was just too much woman for the little
punks." Top that you... 

"They ever catch them?" 

"Yeah. They're in juve till they turn twenty-five. Hope they come out
fags." Her glare said that she wished the same thing for him. 

"Ray, I know it isn't your turn, yet, but would you be willing to tell
what happened to you?" She'd forgotten how mean Chris could be, how she
seemed almost proud of her ordeal. Ray met her gaze, his questioning. "All
of it, if you're willing." Put Chris in her place, please. It would help
the other mice in the group. 

Ray shrugged. "I was on my way home......." 

When he finished, the other members of the group remained silent. Ray was
starting to feel a bit nervous. But, then Jen stood and placed a hand on
his shoulder. "Thank you, Ray. I know how hard that was for you." She
looked at the women. Chris' jaw was clenched, anger? Pain?  

"You see, you are not alone. Ray's assailants have already been picked up.
When he goes home in a few days, he'll have a chance to relax and finish
healing. " She turned to him. Her eyes glistening, "You have been very
brave, Ray." I shouldn't have put you through this, her expression said.
"Thank you for coming." The other members of the group, Chris being
noticeably absent, stood and gathered around him, he started to feel a
little closed in, when they engulfed him in a group hug. Ray returned it
as best as he was able.  

He whispered to Sally, "Stella's supposed to be stopping by this
afternoon, I could introduce you to her, if you want." Sally nodded in
agreement. 

Jen was surprised that Ray hadn't had any problems with the group.
Pleased, as well. Grateful that he had been able to solve the problem
she'd been having with Sally. They had been working for nearly three
months, trying to help her find the courage to face her attacker again.
She decided to cut Chris form any future sessions, as she seemed to be
more of a problem, than a help. She'd send her to another group she knew
of, one which dealt with people stuck in anger. 

After Ray and Stella's visit that afternoon, Ray told her about Sally, and
her fears. Stella was more than happy to talk to her, reassure her. When
she left, Jen was surprised to see her smile and hear her laugh. She
stopped Stella, as she was leaving, having gone back to see Ray, again. 

"What did you tell her? We've been working for months trying to get her
through this." 

Stella smiled, glad she was no longer on the doctor's list. "I filled in
the details that Ray left out about that case. He hadn't told them that he
was my ex."  

"Of course, not. It wasn't important to the case."  

Stella just smiled. "I told Ray that I won't be back for a couple of
weeks, I have to go out of town on a case. I'll see him when I return."
They parted amicably. 

"Thank you, Ray. You were more help than I thought possible." Jen told
him. 

"Glad I could help." 

She looked at his chart. "You can go home tomorrow." 

Finally. released from the hospital. Going...home. Not *his* home. The
Vecchio home. Fraser had warned him about the loud, rambunctious family.
The thought terrified him. Almost as much as Mrs. Vecchio did; except,
well, she made him feel so safe, and loved, and cared for...The idea of
being taken care of, in a nice safe environment, made him feel able to
face the future.  

His cell phone rang. "Vecchio." it was the lieutenant. He wanted him down
at the station to ID his attackers in a line-up. "Yeah, sure. I can stop
by on my way home." he couldn't help a shiver as he thought of seeing the
seven men again. He hugged his teddy bear tightly, unconsciously, as he
disconnected from the call. He could do this. He *had*, *needed* to do
this. 

Hospital rules required him to be transported by wheel chair to the exit.
Fraser, he expected. Mrs. Vecchio, he did not. She was almost smothering
in her concern for him. It felt good. "I gotta stop by the station, to ID
those guys." He informed them, with only a faint tremor in his voice, as
Fraser held the car door for him, Mrs. Vecchio was already in the back
seat, with Dief. 

"Not a problem, Ray." Fraser told him, as he closed the door. 

"Why do you have to do this, Raimundo?" Mrs. Vecchio asked, unable to
understand why, so soon after his injuries, he would be interested in
seeing the men who had hurt him so badly, again. 

"The sooner I ID 'em, the sooner they go to trial, Mrs. Vecchio." he
explained. 

"Ma. You are my *son*, remember? You always call me 'Ma'." she chastised,
gently. 

Ray was still very fragile. Her words brought tears to his eyes. "Yes,
ma'am. I mean, Ma." 

She leaned forward and patted his shoulder. "That's better, caro." 

Fraser slid behind the wheel, fastened his seat belt, checked to see that
the others had theirs on, "Ready?" he asked. At their nods, he started the
car, backed out of the parking space, shifted into drive, and piloted them
to the police station.	

Dr. Davis had warned them to stay close to Ray, to provide comfort and
support. Also, and perhaps most important, to give him the feeling of
safety. It still surprised Ray, however when both Fraser and...Ma,
accompanied him to the two-way glass walled room from which he would pick
his abusers from the line-ups. He knew the drill, there would be no more
than two or three of his attackers in any one group. 

Mrs. Vecchio found the station fascinating. She had greeted her daughter,
Francesca, with a big hug, when she saw her. In the viewing room, she
looked about with great interest. Even though her son had been a policeman
for many years, she had never been inside the station before. Lieutenant
Welsh, Detective Huey, two people from the State's Attorney's office, and
one defense lawyer, were there. Ray was surrounded by the people he knew,
Fraser, then Ray, then the lieutenant, then Huey, then the three lawyers,
and Mrs. Vecchio sat directly behind Ray. Her hands resting on his
shoulders, providing comfort and support. He had reluctantly left the bear
in the car. Diefenbaker sat *on* Ray's feet. Ray was grateful for
everyone's presence.  

The lieutenant was pleased. Ray was looking very calm, professional, cool,
but he could feel the barely perceptible tremors, where their shoulders
touched. He patted Ray's hand reassuringly, where it lay gripping the arm
of his chair, knuckles white. He was rewarded with a faint smile, and firm
eye contact. 

"If you don't mind, Lieutenant, could we get this show on the road?" Ray
almost said 'Please.' He managed to stop himself in time. He didn't need
to beg, here. Diefenbaker raised his head to Ray's knee. They made eye
contact. Dief smiled, showing off his large, sharp teeth. Ray stroked the
animal's head, scratching him just right, behind his ears. No. He was
safe, here.  

Welsh looked at the assembled group, leaned forward, picked up the phone
handset, and spoke into it. "OK. Send in the first group." 

Ray readily ID'd two of the goons from the line-up. The State's Attorneys
were impressed. It was a good line-up. All eight men similar enough
looking, to them, that Ray's quick ID surprised them. Ray couldn't
understand why they seemed so surprised. "Look, I was beaten by them for
more than two days. I'm gonna see them in my nightmares for the
foreseeable future, you know?" He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his
voice. Not fear. The goons couldn't touch him, here, now. The second group
had three more of the goons in it. Again, Ray easily picked them out. The
third and last group held one goon, and the snappy dresser. When Ray ID'd
them, there was a startled gasp from the woman behind him, her hands
digging painfully into his shoulders. 

Ray squirmed from her grasp, turned and asked, "What's wrong, Ma?" That
had *hurt*. 

The look she gave him scared him, a little. There was horror, disbelief,
and finally anger. "Angelo? Cousin Angelo did this to you?" She started to
mutter in Italian, under her breath. "Can I talk to him?" she asked the
lieutenant. 

Why him? These Vecchio's were nothing but trouble. "You know Angelo
Capelli, Mrs. Vecchio?"  

All eyes were on her. She clenched her teeth. "He's my cousin. He moved to
Las Vegas, thirty years ago, maybe more. He's never been back." She looked
at Ray, "He's Uncle Gino's son." Everyone in the room was in shock.
Finally, Fraser broke the silence, 

"Ah, doesn't your Uncle Gino, uh, live with *you*, Mrs. Vecchio?" He knew
he'd met Uncle Gino at the Vecchio home, he was sure of it. Was it the
same Uncle Gino? 

Her lips tightened in anger. "Si, he lives in Ray's house, just like the
rest of the family. He's my mother's brother." She looked at the
lieutenant and the lawyers, "Please, may I speak to him?" 

Welsh looked at the lawyers. None of them objected. "Sure. Why not." 

The line-up finished, the same group moved to the interrogation room. The
defense attorney insisted that anything Mrs. Vecchio said to her cousin
could not be admitted into testimony. The State's attorneys started to
argue.	

Ray ended the argument, by agreeing with the defense lawyer, to everyone's
surprise. "He's right. She wouldn't testify, anyway. What she's got to say
to him is personal. I'm not sure anyone should listen in." They wrangled
for a bit longer, being lawyers, and finally agreed that only the
lieutenant, Ray, and Fraser would observe. 

"And I'm not sure Ray should be here." Welsh murmured to Fraser, who
smiled one of his more enigmatic smiles. 

"I think what she's going to say to him may make a very big difference.
Both to the case, and, more importantly, to Ray." he paused, "I've had the
misfortune to hear a few of her tirades when Ray has displeased her. She's
truly angry about this. I'm glad I'm not on the receiving end of her
temper." He glanced at Ray, who sat, tense, afraid, with the wolf again
sitting on his feet, head in his lap. "I think it will help Ray, too. It
will prove that she's serious about what she told him before." his smile
gentled "I know what it was like when she decided to adopt me into her
family. I was only Ray's friend. He's her *son*, and she's like a mother
bear when it comes to her cubs. I almost feel sorry for Mr. Capelli.
*Almost*." A strange, vindictive light sparkled in his eyes, "This should
be most enlightening" 

Welsh shivered at the intensity in Fraser's eyes. He was glad *he* wasn't
the source of the mountie's rage. 

That had been stupid, trying to go back to finish off the cop. He should
have died before the mountie found him. He should have bled to death
before he was found. He'd had five or six hours to do it in. But...he
hadn't. Now they were all good and caught. It was doubtful their lawyers
could get them out of this one. He wondered why he was in the
interrogation room. His lawyer should be here with him. Where could he be.
He was really starting to worry. Then the door opened. Instead of cops and
lawyers, it was... 

"Ramona?" his cousin? What was *she* doing here? He didn't notice the
expression on her face. 

She stood before him, the table between them. "You did these things to my
son? You had him beaten? Whipped? Tortured? YOU VIOLATED MY SON? YOUR OWN
COUSIN? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? WHY? WHY? ANSWER ME. TELL ME YOUR LIES."
She stopped, shaking with rage. She drew several deep breaths, struggling
for control. When she had it, she continued, "Your father lives under our
roof. *My* son provides for *your* father. You haven't been back for
thirty years. No one was left to take care of Uncle Gino. *We* took care
of him. Because he was family. And this is how you repay us? By doing this
to your own blood?" She ran out of air. Still shaking with fury, she spit
in the face of her cousin. 

He sat in shock. She had married...the realization hit him. That was his
cousin. His blood. His family. The horror of what he had done descended
upon him. He had no excuse. No defense in the light of what he had done.
He had violated his own family. There was nothing worse. His cousin spoke
again. 

"Uncle Gino has lived with us for eight years, now. *You* had him put in a
home, with no family, no friends. After my husband died, Raimundo went and
got him. He said that he was family, and deserved better. My son
remembered his duty, his responsibilities to family. You have forgotten."
she took a deep breath, and asked, calmly "Have you nothing to say?" 

He couldn't meet her eyes. "I forgot you had married Vecchio. We were told
that one of our people was a plant, and that the man calling himself Ray
Vecchio was an impostor." He glanced at her, "I didn't know he was
family." 

Mrs. Vecchio started pacing, "You couldn't ask questions? You just go out
and, and..." hands gesturing angrily, she couldn't finish "You forgot who
I married? You forgot all the letters I wrote to you over the last eight
years, telling you about your father? You forgot my name? You couldn't ask
me about my son?"  

With each word, it was like a sharp pin in his heart. In his business,
family was everything, and he had broken faith with his family.  

"You are dead to me." 

The words shocked him further. More than anything else she had said. "What
about Papa?" 

"You should have thought about him a long time ago. I will explain
*everything* to him. He will stay with us, where we will continue to care
for him, as we always have. But you are dead. You will not be
acknowledged, no one will contact you. You are dead." She again spit in
his face, then turned and left the room. 

Ray, Fraser, and Welsh had watched in awe. They had just watched a short,
stout, middle-aged Italian mother, reduce a hardened, tough, high-up
member of the Mob, to tears, disowned by his closest family. The family he
had ignored for so many years. The family he had left behind to 'get
ahead'. Now he was nothing. He was dead to them, the worst fate possible.
He buried his head in his hands and sobbed. 

Ray had been unable to watch without reacting. He had drawn his feet up
into his chair, wrapped his arms around his knees, and started rocking
himself. Fraser noticed, and sat beside him, drawing him into a hug.  

"Shhh. It's all right Ray. That's classic 'Bear defending cub'. It's all
right." Ray was trembling, Welsh moved over to Ray's other side, sat down,
and gripped Ray's shoulder.  

"I'd sure hate to have her mad at *me*." he was in awe. "You think you
could maybe get her to hire on as an interrogator?" 

Ray stopped rocking, looking at Welsh in surprise. The picture of Mrs.
Vecchio in an interrogation room, was ludicrous. Only... he'd just seen
what she could do. He uncoiled, relaxing. "She scared the shit out of me."
he admitted, then, a tentative smile, as the realization hit him, "She did
that for *me*." surprise, awe, tears silently running down his cheeks, as
she entered. 

She saw her *son*, and rushed to him, gathering him into her warm,
comforting embrace. "Caro, Caro, what's wrong? Are you all right?" 

Ray started to giggle. Mrs. Vecchio pushed away from him, exchanged
worried looks with the others. Ray looked up into her face, then looked at
the still crying mobster on the other side of the glass, and laughed
harder, hysterically, uncontrollably. Mrs. Vecchio looked worriedly at
Welsh, then at Fraser, who sat there grinning. 

"You don't understand. Leftenent, did you by any chance videotape them?"
Fraser asked, gesturing at the glass. 

"Uh, yeah. Only, don't tell anyone. We weren't supposed to." he cautioned.
Fraser chuckled. "You need to show Mrs. Vecchio the tape. Maybe then
she'll see what's so funny." Ray was still out of control, and Fraser
stood, pulled Ray to his feet, placed an arm about Ray's shoulders, and
led the still laughing man from the room. 

Ray was still laughing, out of control, when they reached the car. Mrs.
Vecchio trailed along behind them, concerned, confused. Ray continued to
laugh all the way to the Vecchio home. It took both Fraser and Mrs.
Vecchio, to get him out of the car and into the house. Fraser pulled Ray
into the living room, and forced him to sit on the couch beside him, as
Mrs. Vecchio watched, her brow furrowed with worry. The house was quiet,
everyone, for once, out. 

"Ray!" Fraser said sharply, giving him a shake. "Ray! Stop it!" Ray's
laughter turned into sobs, and Fraser gathered the slighter man into his
arms, cuddling him the way he had learned to comfort his friend in the
hospital. "It's all right, Ray. You're safe. He can't hurt you any more." 

Mrs. Vecchio sat on the other side of Ray, also wrapping her arms around
him, holding him tightly. "Shh, Caro, it's gonna be all right, shh." She
rubbed his back, as she would any of her injured children or
grandchildren, solid, warm, comforting. 

Ray gasped, forcing himself back together, "I can't believe I was so
afraid of him. Just the thought of, of seeing him again left me shaking.
An' then you go in there, and...and ..and..." he started laughing again,
choking on his laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks, "and you make
him cry like a baby in less than ten minutes." He wiped his streaming
eyes, hiccuping once, as he again sought control. "Ten minutes. It took
them more than two *days* to break me. And you did it in...in..." he
laughed, the hysteria easing, as the real humour of the situation reached
his soul.  

They continued to hold him, hugging, rubbing his back, as he healed. They
say that laughter is the best medicine. In this instance, they were right.
Ray finally stopped laughing. He was holding his bruised ribs, trying
desperately to not cry from the pain he had caused himself. He looked at
the two people holding him, and smiled. It was as though the sun had
suddenly shown down through a blizzard. He wiped his face with his hands,
his tears finally ceased. He was having a little trouble breathing, but he
didn't care. He reached his arms around his companions, hugging them both.
 

"Thanks. I needed that. I...I can still see his face. An' I was *afraid*
of him. Of them." He shook his head in wonder. "That was so...I dunno..."
he shook his head, bemused. 

"Cathartic, I believe is the word you are looking for." Fraser said,
softly; arms still around his friend. "That means, the release of
emotions, a sort of healing process." The others nodded, agreeing. 

"Yeah. Cathartic. I'll have to remember that. " Ray went limp, emotionally
and physically exhausted. He leaned back on the sofa, sighing. In just
moments, he was sound asleep. 

Mrs. Vecchio and Fraser gently pulled away from him, easing him down to
stretch out on the sofa. Fraser placed a pillow under Ray's head, then
moved to remove Ray's shoes. Mrs. Vecchio brought a thick woolen afghan,
which she spread over the sleeping man. They watched Ray sleep for a
while, the contented grin on his face reflected in the faces of the
watchers. 

Finally, Mrs. Vecchio gathered herself together. She gently touched
Fraser's arm, "Come, Benton, Caro. Let's go into the kitchen, I'll make
tea. And I need to start dinner, you can help." Ben nodded, and, with a
final glance at the sleeping Ray, followed her to the kitchen. 

In his dreams, Ray was again being held in that small room, being menaced
by the six goons. He flinched in his fear, trying to curl into a fetal
position to protect himself. The creep came in, started asking him who he
was. He started to whimper. Suddenly, a short, slightly dumpy looking
woman came into the room, waving her arms, and screaming and spitting at
the creep and his goons, who suddenly turned into little boys, cowering
from the formidable SUPER MOM. When they had been routed, she turned to
him, and... 

"Ray? Are you all right?" She gently caressed his cheek, anxious. She had
heard his whimpers in the kitchen, and had rushed to comfort him, Fraser
close behind.  

He opened his eyes and saw her, he giggled. "I'm OK. I was having a
dream." He smiled at the two concerned people in front of him. "Really.
I'm fine." 

"You didn't sound fine, Caro." Mrs. Vecchio chided, stroking his still
bruised cheek.	

"It started out like usual, " Ray explained, sitting up, disentangling
himself from the afghan, he began to fold it and set it on the sofa beside
him. "They were all there, and creep, I mean, uh, Angelo, had just started
asking me who I was, and...and" he started giggling, again, helplessly. 

"Easy, Ray. You don't want to hurt your ribs any more." Fraser cautioned. 

"I know. They hurt like hell. I can't help it, though. I'll bet you laugh
too, when I can tell you how it turned out." He held his aching ribs,
gasping for breath, tears of laughter and pain flowing down his cheeks.
Mrs. Vecchio stood up and went into the kitchen to bring him back a glass
of water. When he had managed to get his giggles under control, he drank
the water, and continued: 

"Thanks. There I was, scared to death of those seven guys, and suddenly,"
he giggled again, pointing at Mrs. Vecchio, "*You* came through the door,
dressed like...like..." he was laughing again, "Like Superman!" he howled.
"Y-y-you...you were cussing them out in Italian, a-a-an-and and you spit
on them, and they all turned into scared little boys, cringing from you.
Th-th- then...y-y-you...then you chased them away...and-and-and y-you you
woke me up." He howled with laughter.  

Mrs. Vecchio and Fraser exchanged perplexed looks, then, Fraser could see
it. His eyes started to sparkle with humour, his mouth formed a smile,
then a grin, and soon he was sitting on the sofa beside Ray, howling with
laughter, tears running down his face. Mrs. Vecchio still didn't get it.  

"I don't understand? Ray, Benton, are you all right?" Each time either man
looked at her, or each other, they only laughed harder. She shook her
head. "I don't understand. When you can talk, come and explain it to me,
Caros." She walked away, shaking her head in confusion. 

"Sh-sh-she w-w-w-was d-dressed like...like Superman?" Fraser managed to
gasp out through his laughter and tears. "I-I-in tights? W-with a -a-a-a
cape?" The two men were leaning together, shoulder to shoulder for
support, arms supporting aching ribs, laughter and tears mingling
together. 

"Yeah, wi-wi-with 'SUPERMOM" across her-her chest, in great-big letters."
He was weakening, He leaned back tiredly. "I think my nightmares will
never be the same, again."  

"I don't think I will ever be able to look at Mrs. Vecchio again without
picturing her...Oh, Dear." He collapsed back against the sofa, as well,
still laughing helplessly. "My ribs ache. You must be in agony, Ray. Shall
I get you your pain medication?" he asked, when he could breathe and talk
normally. 

Ray was still holding his ribs. They hadn't been wrapped, because of the
stitches still in his back. He nodded. "Yeah. I think a pain pill right
now might be a pretty good idea. Maybe it'll knock me out and get rid of
the giggles." He was gasping, trying to breathe shallowly, but not doing
very well at it. Fraser stood up, picked up Ray's discarded glass and went
to the kitchen to get the medication and another glass of water. 

Mrs. Vecchio looked curiously at him, as he entered the kitchen. She had
her sauce simmering on the stove, and delicious odours were beginning to
waft through the room. Fraser sniffed, appreciatively.	

"Mmmm. Smells good, Mrs. Vecchio. Ray needs his pain medication." He was
surprised to discover that he could look Mrs. Vecchio in the eye and not
break out in a fit of giggles. Of course, her worried expression might
have helped with his control. "I suppose you need an explanation?" he
offered. 

"Please." She wiped her hands on her apron, and went to sort the correct
medication for Ray. She glanced at the clock, and added his antibiotics as
well. Fraser filled the glass with ice water from the refrigerator.  

"Have you ever seen Superman?" he asked, as he closed the refrigerator
door, turning to look at her. 

"Of course. That nice young actor who was hurt falling from his horse,
Yes?" She handed him the pills. 

"Do you remember the Superman Costume?" 

"Yes, blue tights, red cape?" tentatively. 

"Ray saw you in his dream, dressed like Superman, with 'Supermom" written
across your chest in big letters." He couldn't help it, he giggled.
Struggling for control, "I'm afraid the picture was too much for us. I'm
sorry, if it offends you..." 

She had listened intently. Now she was picturing it. She looked down at
her apron, her dress...she met Fraser's eyes. She smiled, grinned, and
started laughing. Long and hard, tears running down her cheeks. "Oh. Oh!
No wonder you couldn't stop laughing. Me?! In tights?!" Uncontrollable
laughter. 

"Are you all right, Mrs. Vecchio?" Fraser asked, concerned. She waved him
off. 

"Yes. Oh! Yes. I'll be just fine." She managed to bring her laughter under
control "Oh, dear. He sees me as a super hero? Why do you suppose that
is?" she wondered. 

"When you confronted Mr. Capelli, you left him in tears. You never laid a
finger on him. Just words. You didn't use any of the normal police tactics
of intimidation. Just mama bear protecting her cub." She looked up at him,


"Is that what you thought of me? An angry bear?" she didn't know whether
to be angry or pleased. 

"Oh, yes. I know of nothing more ferocious than a bear protecting her
cubs. I have seen a black bear take on and drive off a grizzly that was
three times her size, in defense of her young. I meant it as a compliment.
I know *I* certainly wouldn't want you to be angry with me! And God help
anyone who intentionally hurts any member of your family." There was
almost something wistful in his voice, perhaps, even envious. 

She noticed. She reached out to him and pulled him into her arms. "Oh,
Caro. You are as much a part of my family as anyone." She hugged him,
hard. He gently returned her embrace. There were tears in his eyes. 

"Thank you. You have always made me feel welcome, here, Mrs. Vecchio..."
she cut him off with a shake.  

"You are *Family* Benton. You will call me Ma, like everyone else,
capisce?" his smile was beautiful to behold. He hugged her, again. 

"Yes, ma'am." She glared, "I mean, Ma." She hugged him once more, then
released him with a gentle push. 

"Go. Go. Ray needs his medicine." Fraser picked up the pills and glass of
water he had set on the table, and took them back into the living room to
Ray. 

Ray was back to lying on the sofa, eyes closed, pain lines around his eyes
and mouth.  

"Ray? Here are your pills. It's also time for you to take your
antibiotics." Ray opened his eyes, and groaned.  

"I don't think I can move. It didn't hurt this bad before." He struggled
to sit up, grimacing in pain. Fraser set the glass on the end table,
handed Ray the pills, and helped pull him back to a sitting position, so
he could take them.  

"I think, perhaps, we should get you to bed, Ray. I'm sure you'll be more
comfortable there." Ray nodded. Fraser left him sitting up, and went to
check with...Ma, to see where to put him. 

Though the fire had done minimal structural damage, the smoke and water
had required them to replace most of the furnishings and personal objects
in the house. Oddly enough, the one room *not* damaged, was Ray's. Ma
insisted on Ray using Ray's room. "It only makes sense, Caro. Where *else*
would he sleep?" her logic was irrefutable.  

Fraser had to help Ray climb the stairs. Right hand gripping Ray's right
upper arm; left arm around Ray's back, hand on Ray's hip, to support him.
Ray was so tired, so weak, that he nearly had to be carried up the stairs.


"I'm sorry, Fraser." He muttered, exhausted. "I guess I just laughed too
hard." He nearly stumbled as they reached the landing. By the time they
reached the room, he could barely stand. Fraser held him upright with one
hand, while he pulled back the bedclothes, then gave Ray a gentle push to
make him sit on the side of the bed. Ray was barely conscious, the pain
medication, on top of the emotional roller coaster the entire day had
been, taking it's toll. Fraser carefully undressed Ray, unzipping and
removing his sweat shirt, leaving him in his sweat pants, under shirt, and
socks. Just in case he was cold-blooded, although, to Fraser, the house
was almost too warm...Fraser carefully arranged Ray in the bed, covered
him with the sheet and blankets, then tucked him in, snugly, but not so
tight that he would feel restrained.  

He watched Ray sleep for a while, amazed by how relaxed he looked, like a
child, sleeping safe and snug in his bed. He abruptly realized that this
was the most peaceful he had seen Ray, ever. Of course, he'd never seen
him asleep, prior to the abduction, but he was positively angelic, now, as
he slept. He turned at the sound of Mrs. Vecchio entering the room behind
him. She looked down at the sleeping Ray, and smiled. 

"Like an angel." She whispered, reaching out to stroke his cheek, then she
leaned over him as he slept, whispered something in Italian to him, and
kissed his forehead. Ray shifted in his sleep, a soft smile on his lips,
turning on his side, facing the room. She stroked his hair, fluffing it
into its usual spiky appearance. 

One of his neighbors was having a fight with her husband. They were so
loud, that he thought they were right outside his bedroom door. He
snuggled further under the covers, then realized that he wasn't in *his*
bed. His eyes fluttered open, "Aaugggh!" he yelled, jumping back, then
realized that it was only a child; and that the sudden movement had
*hurt*. The child couldn't have been more than three or four, he figured.
"Who are you?" he asked the child, perhaps a bit more sharply that he
meant to.  

The child stuck its fingers in its mouth. "Unca Ray?" the little treble
voice asked, uncertain. This was uncle Ray's room, but this man didn't
look like uncle Ray, did he?  

Ray shook his head, OK. This had to be one of the little Vecchios, no,
Maria's kids. Maria and Tony. His sister's kids. "Uh, yeah. I'm uncle Ray.
Which one are you?" he asked, much more gently. 

"Theresa." 

OK, a girl. "Uh, would you mind? I'd like to get up now." The little girl
nodded, turned and left the room. Ray was now coherent enough to look
around his environment. The furnishings were pretty nice. Warm colours,
family pictures on the walls, a book shelf with quite a few paperback
books, a small stereo system, and a TV, with cable. He realized that this
must be Ray's room. He climbed out of the almost too comfortable bed,
curiosity, hunger, and the need for the bathroom urging him up. His shoes
were downstairs, so he started for the door in his sock feet. He paused to
look at the photographs on the wall. Most of them were of family. There
were several of Fraser and a slender, balding man, this had to be the real
Ray Vecchio. He examined the photos closely. He noted the happy smiles of
the two friends, the apparently comfortable closeness, and felt a stab of
envy. Then he remembered all the times he awoke in the hospital, being
held, comforted, cuddled, and smiled. He wished he could meet this Ray.
Fraser's best friend. He looked like a good guy, even if his taste in
clothes was a bit much for him (who was he kidding? He had no taste). But
he knew that was not true. He was just not into clothes. They were to keep
you warm and decent, nothing more. There was a photo of Ray and the little
girl, Theresa, he reminded himself. The love between them was apparent,
even in the photo. It was obviously taken without the subject's knowledge.
Theresa was standing before a crouching Ray, showing him something, he had
just looked up, into her eyes, and the smile was...beyond his ability to
describe. He learned more about the man he was impersonating by looking at
him in the photos, than he had memorizing his files and cases. Those were
just facts. This was the inside of the man. He looked like a good guy.
Must be, with his mother. He noticed that there were no pictures of
Vecchio's dad, anywhere. Pictures of when he was a kid, and his sisters,
and, was that an older brother? Cousin? There was only one picture with
him. One thing he noticed, was that in most of the photos of the child and
teen-aged Ray, was the sadness, the defiance, the hurt in his eyes. No
pictures of the dad. Bad father. He knew Ray's dad had been dead
about...eight years. When he went to the rest-home and brought his
great-uncle Gino home. For a man to whom family meant everything, no
pictures of the dad.  

His own parents had been loving and supportive. They had moved to Arizona
when his dad retired, wanting to be out of the cold. He couldn't blame
them. They had been older parents. He'd been a late surprise. But he
always felt wanted, loved. At least by his parents. He just wasn't as able
in school, he knew he was a disappointment to his parents where school was
concerned. It had just been so hard. And the teachers just didn't care.
But. But they loved him. Unreservedly. Unconditionally. The only people
who didn't base their caring on his performance. Until now. Fraser liked
him, just as he was. He'd more than amply demonstrated that by coming and
finding him. And staying with him through this mess. And now there was
Mrs....Ma. It humbled him. When this started, she hadn't wanted anything
to do with this deception. Now. Yeah, there was guilt on her part. If he
hadn't been the decoy, if Ray hadn't agreed to go under cover, none of
this would have happened. But he did. And it had. And she had adopted him
as her stand-in son. He felt all warm and fuzzy inside. And if he didn't
find a bathroom soon, he'd be warm, fuzzy, and *wet* *outside*, as well. 

He stepped out of the door just as Francesca was walking by, still in her
civilian aide uniform. "Hi, Ray," she sounded almost shy, "How are you
feeling?" she was thinking of the times she had sat with him in the
hospital, worrying about him. Holding his hand. Giving him a hug, when he
needed one, or just because she wanted to. This was a very nice guy. One
who would never hit a woman. He wasn't as cute as Fraser, but... 

"Uh, Francesca? Where's the bathroom?" He looked uncomfortable, almost
squirming like a kid. She smiled at him and pointed. "Thanks." He hurried
to the indicated doorway, and through it. 

Francesca continued on down to her room, to change. Maybe? Why not. She
decided to dress for dinner. Nothing too glamorous, just, subdued. Ray
seemed to prefer that. Not that she was going to come on to him, or
anything. Even if she wanted to she couldn't. Not until Ray got back, and
this charade was over. She paused, as she sorted through her clothes,
searching for just the right outfit. He had been like a hurt, frightened
child, in the hospital. She had cuddled him as she would her nieces and
nephews. He had been so scared. Who wouldn't have been? She was scared
just looking at the stitches on his back, and the bruises on his chest and
stomach. She shivered, just thinking about how bad he'd looked. Not that
he looked much better yet. His face wasn't swollen so much as before, and
the bruises were fading. She sighed, as she pulled out her black sheath
dress. No frills, no flounces, just straight, not even too tight or slit
up the back or side. She didn't really like it, but Ray had bought it for
her one birthday. Said it was classy, like her. She didn't try to stifle
the tears. She missed her brother. 

When he finished in the bathroom, Ray made his way down the stairs, firmly
grasping the balustrade for balance. Even with the pain medication, he
still hurt. The wonderful smells of Italian cooking drew him like a magnet
toward the kitchen. There he found Fraser and M-ma, sitting at a table and
talking as they sipped their tea. At his appearance, Ma stood up, 

"Caro, come, sit, dinner will be ready in about an hour. Do you need
something to tide you over? You slept so long, you missed lunch. You must
be starving." She pushed him down in the chair she had vacated, and
bustled around the kitchen, pouring him a cup of tea, and setting a plate
of biscotti before him. He picked up a slice of the crisp amaretto
flavoured cookie, took a bite, and a sip of tea.  

"Mmmm. This is terrific, ...Ma." He was getting used to calling her that.
She beamed at him. He pushed the plate toward Fraser. "Man, you gotta try
this. It's wonderful." Fraser took a piece, sniffed it, then tasted it.
Dief moaned from under the table, begging for a bite. "Sorry, Dief. This
is too good to share with you. Probably give you a stomach ache." Ray
teased, then surreptitiously slipped a piece to the beast. 

"Ra-ay, Fraser chastised, "He really doesn't need that. They are
wonderful. Thank you Mrs....Ma." The two men exchanged shy, pleased grins.
The man who barely remembered his mother, and the man who's mother had not
kept in touch, much, since they moved away, feeling that he was a grown
man, and able to take care of himself, now. Ray ate a second piece of
biscotti, taking the edge off his hunger, but leaving him still looking
forward to the great smelling dinner that simmered away on the stove. 

Fraser had warned him. He was sandwiched between Ma Vecchio, and Fraser,
with Francesca across from him, next to Tony, who was across from Maria,
and Uncle Gino, who was next to Tony, with all the little family members
at the other end.
And...all...of...them...were...talking...and...shouting...at...the...same.
.. time. He'd never seen anything like it. He lifted frightened eyes to
Fraser, who leaned close. 

"Don't worry. They only attack the ones they love." He said with a smile,
and a glint of mischief in his blue eyes. Then he noticed the
perspiration, and the trembling, as the noise overwhelmed Ray. Ma noticed,
as well.  

"QUIET!" she shouted. The room immediately fell silent. All eyes on the
matriarch. Ray gagged, put his hand over his mouth, and ran from the
table.	

"Excuse, me. I'll take care of him. Fraser rose and dashed after Ray.  

Mrs. Vecchio glared around the table at her family. Her lips compressed in
anger. Francesca, who had, for once not been involved any of the noisy
squabbles, joined her in glaring at the rest of her family. The formerly
noisy members sat, sullenly glaring at each other. "Ray is not feeling
well. He just got out of the hospital, today." The matriarch spoke, had
Ben or Ray been there, they would have recognized the same tone of voice
she had used on Angelo Capelli. Francesca had managed to get a look at the
tape. She blushed and cringed. "Each of you will apologize to Ray. One at
a time. *Quietly.*" she glared at each in turn. None of them would meet
her eyes, except Francesca, who placed her napkin on the table, and rose. 

"I'll go see if they need help, Ma." She offered, softly. Her mother
nodded, and she followed after Ben and Ray. 

"Easy, Ray. Just take it easy." Fraser said in a low soothing tone, as he
held his friend, as he emptied the contents of his stomach. It didn't
taste nearly as good coming back up, he had the presence of mind to think.
His sore ribs and abdominal muscles were screaming at him. There hadn't
really been very much in his stomach, to begin with, and he ended up with
dry heaves. Ben looked up when Francesca came into the bathroom. 

"How's he doin'?" Ben shook his head. She looked concerned. "Should I call
the doctor?" she had one of Dr. Davis' cards.  

Ben wrapped his arms around a now sobbing Ray; looked up at Francesca, met
her eyes and nodded. Even though Ray had wanted out of the hospital, away
from all the sounds, smells, and lousy food, the doctor had been doubtful
whether Ray was ready to go home. He had promised that if there were any
problems, that he would call her, and she would come over to determine
whether Ray would be able to stay home, or would have to go back to the
hospital. In Ben's opinion, they would be going back to the hospital,
because he had promised Ray that he would not leave him alone, he would
again stay with him, as before.  

While Francesca called the doctor, Ben cleaned Ray up and helped him back
upstairs and into bed. Ray looked positively miserable. Ben tried to
comfort him. "It's all right Ray. You just overdid your first day home."
Ray turned toward the wall, not wanting to talk, but Ben wouldn't let it
go. He sat beside Ray on the bed, and started to gently rub Ray's
shoulder. "Don't worry. It will all sort itself out." 

"I suck." Came Ray's barely audible whisper. 

"No, you don't, Ray. This was a rough day for all of us. You just got out
of the hospital. You go to the station to ID your assailants. You come
home to a strange place. You get adopted by a veritable mother-bear of a
woman, who defends you and breaks the leader of the people who hurt you.
You have a nightmare that ends with hysterical laughter, and then, to top
it all off, you have your first experience of a normal Vecchio dinner."
Ray rolled over and looked at Ben with horror. 

"That was normal?" Ben nodded. "I'd hate to see them mad at each other."
Ben smiled. 

"I have observed that although they are loud, and sometimes angry, their
anger passes quickly, and they never really mean any harm." He smiled,
"That's just the way they are. I understand they are quite normal for an
Italian family. 

Ray thought about it. "No wonder he broke down over being declared dead to
them. He's gonna be awful lonely." He whispered, and shivered. As Ray lay
thinking, something occurred to him. 

"Fraser?" 

"Hmmm?" 

"They're gonna walk." Fraser, who had been sitting in a rocking chair,
slumped on his tail bone, relaxed, and nearly dozing, while they waited
for the doctor, sat up abruptly.  

"What makes you think that, Ray?" puzzled. 

"I can't testify." Horrified. 

"Why not, Ray? You are an excellent witness. They won't be able to touch
you, Ray." He moved over to the bed, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"I can't be sworn in. They ask you to state your full and true name. I
can't do that, Fraser. My true and full name is Stanley Raymond Kowalski."
He started trembling. Fraser pulled him up into a hug, holding him tight
against his chest. 

"We'll think of something, Ray. Don't worry about that just now." 

When Dr. Davis arrived, she found an exhausted Ray fitfully dozing, with
Fraser in the rocking chair beside the bed. 

"What happened?" she asked, softly. 

Ben sighed. "I'm afraid we overdid it, today." He related the events to
her. Finishing with Ray's dream of Supermom. 

"I'm afraid we were both quite hysterical. You've seen Mrs. Vecchio, can
you picture her in blue tights and red cape?" he chuckled again at the
memory. 

She joined him, laughing softly. "That's wonderful. I'm glad. It's a very
promising dream. It shows that he's healing. Of course, the vision of her
driving that monster to tears was probably the best thing that could have
happened. It shows him that he is stronger than he thought. The fact that
he realized that it took seven men two and a half days to break him, and
his mother took ten minutes to break the leader of the gang that hurt him,
demonstrates to him that he is the strong one. The one in charge. That he
can handle this, and come through it stronger, better." She was sitting on
the edge of Ray's bed, making her examination as she spoke. Even in his
sleep, he was excessively tender in the rib area, flinching at even her
gentlest touch. 

"I think we need to wrap these ribs, after all. If he's going to be
laughing, support of those abused muscles is more important than his
discomfort from the stitches in his back. I'll show you how to wrap him,
and you'll need to check the stitches two or three times a day, just to
make sure they stay clean. He can sleep without being wrapped, but
shouldn't be moving around without them." She finished her exam, gently
pulled Ray's shirt back down, and tucked the covers back around the still
sleeping form, ending by stroking Ray's face and smoothing his hair back.
"I hate to wake him up, but..." She made a decision. "Tell you what. I'll
come by tomorrow morning, on my way to work. That way, he can get a good
night's sleep, and we won't have to disturb him." She said, rising from
the bed and moving toward the door. 

Fraser nodded his agreement. "What time? If it's early, I can be up to let
you in." 

"I have late hours tomorrow, say eight-thirty?"  

Fraser agreed, and escorted her down the stairs. Mrs. Vecchio met them in
the foyer.  

"How is he, doctor?" She asked, worriedly. She was afraid the doctor would
make them take Ray back to the hospital, where there was no one to care
about him. She was surprising herself by how much she was starting to care
for this man. He was different from her own son, but in many ways he was
the same, too. The gentle, hurting, child locked behind the tough
exterior. Her strong maternal instincts wanting to cushion him from the
outside world's hurts. 

"He's going to be just fine, Mrs. Vecchio. I'll be back in the morning to
wrap his ribs." At her worried look, she continued, hurriedly "It's just
for support. The muscles are still so tender that any untoward movement
causes him excessive pain. He'll be just fine in a week or two. Honest."
She smiled and touched the older woman's arm, reassuringly. "Normally, my
patients don't find too many things funny enough to laugh themselves into
more pain. However, this has been an unusual case from the outset." She
was thrilled at the support these people had been willing to give her
patient. Even if the laughter was part hysteria, it was an excellent sign
of emotional healing. For everyone involved. She made more reassurances,
promising to show Mrs. Vecchio, as well, how to wrap Ray's ribs and care
for his injuries, now that he was home. 

With Ma on the warpath, the rest of the family remained subdued throughout
the evening. Ben, Francesca, and Ma Vecchio spent their time in the
kitchen, talking. Discussing Ray's newest problem of not being able to
testify. The very thought that the men who had done this getting away with
it had Ma in a fury. 

"They must be punished." She declared, angrily. "The things they did....."
she started ranting in Italian, hands gesticulating wildly. 

The others waited out her tirade. Francesca shyly, for her, came up with a
possible solution, "Ma?" her mother looked at her youngest child, still
distraught.  

"Si, cara?" 

"What if you were to talk to Angelo and.." 

"Do not say that name! He is dead to us!" her mother interrupted her,
furious. 

"Please, Ma. Let me finish. Please?" pleading. 

"What is it Francesca?" Fraser asked gently. 

"Well," looking to her mother for permission to continue. At her nod,
Francesca continued. "What if Ma, here was to talk to Angelo again, and
tell him he could, maybe, I don't know, maybe talk to his dad and explain
what happened, to him, you know? Make him take all the responsibility? In
exchange for him and his goons pleading guilty." She looked for
reassurance from the others, then rushed on, "You know, let Uncle Gino
decide whether or not to disown him for what he did. Give him back a
little of the family, as long as they plead guilty to what they did to
Ray. Then Ray wouldn't have to testify, and they'd be punished, and
everything..." she trailed off, insecure of her reception. When she gained
the courage to look at the others, she saw a calculating expression on her
mother's face and a pleased smile on Fraser's. 

"That might work." Fraser said. He looked at Ma. "The offer will have to
come from you. I'm sure you could persuade him to take the deal. It
wouldn't look good to the rest of the mob to discover what he had done to
his own cousin. I understand they take a dim view of such actions with
close relatives." He knew he couldn't force it on her. She had to decide
for herself whether or not to put Ray through any more anguish. His
expectations were rewarded. 

"Si. You are right. He has been through enough. I will do this." That
settled matters as far as she was concerned. When she again spoke to the
vile man, she would make him an offer he dare not refuse. If the men who
had helped him torture Ray learned of the family connection between their
boss and his victim, his life might be forfeit from his own people. Family
abuse was frowned upon. Especially when unjustified. 

Fraser went with Francesca when they approached the Lieutenant with the
idea. He agreed and sent them on to the State's Attorneys, who also liked
the idea. By the time the meeting had been set with the various parties,
another week had passed. The meeting was rather anti-climatic. Angelo had
jumped at the chance to try to make amends to his relatives. He and all of
his goons agreed to plead guilty. Angelo's error reflected badly on them
as well. The fact that Ray had survived made them all more than willing to
cut a deal. They knew that seeing the photos of Ray's injuries coupled
with his testimony would make an excellent case for the death penalty.
They plea bargained the charges down to twenty-five years to life. With
good behavior, they could be out in ten to fifteen years. 

Ray's bruises had faded to near invisibility. His ribs were still strapped
when he was up, but the stitches had been removed from his back. He was
feeling almost healthy again. His nightmares had a tendency to end up with
an hilarious parody of Mrs. Vecchio as Supermom to the rescue. He hadn't
had a 'cuddle attack' in several days and was able to move around on his
own, even to the point of driving himself to work.  

His first day back. The squad room was it's usual bustling self when he
entered. Huey was the first to see him. He stopped interviewing his
prisoner and stood, drawing the attention of his partner, Dewey, who
followed the direction of his gaze and also stood. By the time Ray made it
to his desk, the room was silent, all police officers standing. Lt. Welsh
stood in the doorway of his office, for once not leaning on the jamb. Ray
looked up, noticing the silence. He glanced, nervously, at his co-workers.
The lieutenant started to clap. Huey joined immediately, then the others.
Ray sat down to thunderous applause. It left him feeling at a total loss
for words. His eyes misted from the emotions brought on by the welcome. He
met the eyes of his brother cops, and smiled. It was good to be home. 

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