Recollection	 Disclamer: The characters herein contained belong to
Alliance, as do many events and lines from the show. They have been
borrowed for non-commercial use, and no harm is meant to their copyright,
or creative intent. 

 This story was inspired by Hsu-Lyn Yap's Remembrance of Things Past. It's
good, go read it! This story, however, is my take of what happened
afterwards. Whatever you like, or don't like, e-mail me about, okay?
wellplaypeoria@hotmail.com 

 Warning: M/M. rated R. Contains steam, moderately strong language, and
mature themes. Lots of angst, and some other stuff I don't want to spoil. 

  Recollection 

 Ostensibly, Benton Fraser had his life back. He was again in Canada,
posted where he could make use of his father's cabin. He'd had meant to
rebuild it earlier; he had actually managed once to come up long enough to
make some temporary repairs, after that ill fated trip. When he had
returned six months ago, that was how he had spent his time when not at
work. Now, it was finished. Just like his life. 

 Ten months ago he'd lost it, senselessly in Chicago. So even though he
had made Corporal, and was again maintaining the right the way he was
meant to, he was hollow inside. *Blown apart. My heart ripped out.* Only
two things kept him functioning. His duty. And the knowledge, that while
Ray, his Ray, was gone, Ray Vecchio still lived. As hard as it was, though
his former lover didn't remember, he'd made him a promise once. *'In case
I should die, I want you to deliver the eulogy.'* "I'll live for you Ray.
Even though without you I'm already dead." 

 He moved around the small cabin, again the way it had been. Not quite.
Two changes had been made. One was the fireplace in the main room. His
father had never gotten around to doing that, though it had been mentioned
off and on most of Ben's years. At one time it was the difficulty of
getting brick up that far. Then, for a long time, the man saw no sense in
it. The reason had passed. 

 Later, lack of time had prevented him, until he was killed. The other
change had increased the small cabin's size by nearly a third. Ben hadn't
realized what he was doing, or why. It wasn't like he needed more space.
He found he'd even put another fireplace in the addition, rather larger
than the space warranted. 

  

 "Oh, G-d!" Ray awoke. When he could think, he knew it was the same dream.
He could never remember anything about it, though he wasn't in doubt what
had happened. The condition of his linens, not to mention the fuzzy
feeling he had when he woke made that unmistakable. *Sex dreams.
Incredibly hot, erotic sex dreams.* For the last three months, he'd been
having them. At first, he thought it was his lack of a social life. It
wasn't like he wasn't dating, because he was, just that there never seemed
to be any chemistry. A few times, he'd even gone up to their place, only
to realize he wasn't interested. Not his body, but his mind; they'd get to
a certain point and he'd find some reason to leave. *Like some schoolgirl
under the bleachers or in a back seat.* 

 "Might as well get up and take a shower." Something was very wrong, but
for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. It wasn't something he
could talk about. Admit he wasn't getting any action? That he'd turned
into a terrible tease? That some dream was taking over his nights? *Right,
like you need that, Vecchio.* As he lathered up, he realized he missed the
friend he didn't remember. An interesting person, Benny. Supposedly they
had been best friends. According to what he was told, Fraser and he had
been through a lot. He remembered them, but not Benny. *He'd have been
able to help. Tell me some Inuit story, some way to remember the dream.*
Wouldn't have told him what sort of dreams, of course. Fraser at least
wouldn't ask. *Not jump to conclusions.* 

 Ray just knew he was in Canada; he was a Mountie and he'd been recalled
home. Hadn't heard from him in the six months he was gone. *Do they send
mail out of Tuktoyaktuck?* Actually, he wasn't sure if that was where he
was. No address was left; he'd made everyone promise not to see him off at
the airport. *Surprised he'd let me drive him.* Would he have taken a cab?
Walked? *Right, like anyone walks to or from O'hare.* Must be glad to be
back though. Couldn't have been easy for him in Chicago, little real work
for him to do. Ray could see the man's sadness. *If only I could
remember.* 

  

 He'd picked up his mail today, expecting just his newspapers. They came
every two weeks, and he rationed them carefully. But in addition to the
Chicago Tribune subscription, there had been a large box. *Open it. Stop
staring at it and open it.* Inside, was, well, it was a care package. He'd
never gotten one before, but he'd seen others get them, while he was at
the Depot and then on various postings. There was no letter; but the
contents told him everything. Homecanned jars of pasta sauce. A recipe
book. Dief's favorite cookies. 'Caro mio figlio.' He put the things away;
eventually, he'd use the sauce. Now, it just was too hard. The smell of it
would take him back. The papers were enough. 

 The first month, he only read the weather section and the sports page,
setting aside the rest. Gradually, he got to where he could read the whole
paper. Last month he had finished going through the backlogged papers.
That was the only thing he kept in the addition. One day he realized why
he had built the new room. *The bathroom Ray always wanted.* Not that it
was a bathroom; there were no fixtures. Subconsciously, Ben had thought
Ray might come up sometime. Forgetting his lover wasn't his anymore. He
couldn't get that back; when Ray lost his memory, of Benton Fraser, they'd
never be the same. He got out two of the cookies, giving one, and then the
other to Dief. 

  

 Ray was slumped over his desk, trying to focus on the file open in front
of him. *I've got to get more sleep.* He was more and more waking up a
couple times a night, and rarely did he get a whole night's sleep. He
still went out, but never more than dinner and a movie. *What is wrong
with me?* At the station, everyone seemed to give him a wide berth. Welsh
didn't so much yell at him about his cases as coaxed and prodded.
Sometimes Jack, and other times Elaine, would sit at the empty chair by
his desk. There was this look of sadness he would sometimes catch in their
eyes; once or twice he thought he saw something like it in Welsh. 

 *Drive. I need a little drive to clear my head* Every so often he would
do this. Wasn't sure why. He'd end up going by the Canadian Consulate;
ocassionally he'd stop for a minute or two. *Is that the Dragonlady
looking out?* He recognized the man on guard duty as Constable Turnbull.
He pulled away. Never noticing the slight following glance. 

 "I've got to figure out what is the matter with me. I can't take these
dreams anymore, I don't know why I can't get close to a real woman, and I
want to know why everyone looks..." He really wasn't sure what they looked
like. His ma spent alot of time at church, or praying in her room.
Everyone was too damn nice to him. *Am I dying and no one bothered to tell
me?* Is someone else dying? Why would that change how they acted towards
him? "I don't understand any of this." Pulling back up at the station, he
tried to throw himself into his work. 

  

 Fraser lived by his routines. He spent as much time as possible working.
If that didn't take up enough of his weeks, he'd set out with his sled
team. Otherwise, he'd sit in the cabin, and read the paper or his father's
journals. Besides his fellow officers, and people he came into contact
with during his duties, he only saw the postmistress and the clerk at the
general store. Well, he saw other people, but didn't speak to them,
outside of bringing to attention they had forgotten some laundry in a
machine, or the like. He supposed that he should visit Eric someday. 

  

 Ray realized he'd been dreaming. *Thank G-d not one of those dreams.*
He'd dozed off on stake-out, with Jack sitting beside him. This one he
remembered. He was dancing with a tall woman. Not a very interesting
dream, but it was nice. *Disco.* It didn't look like a disco though.
Looked familar, what was it? *Crepe paper.* Yeah, that was familar
alright. How many dances in the school gym did you go to? But it was
strange, because this wasn't reliving some high school moment. It didn't
look like a Reunion. *Chaperones.* That made sense, but why would he dream
about being a chaperone? He'd never be a chaperone; not until his sister's
kids were much older anyway. Even then, it still wasn't very likely. *Only
teachers chaperone.* 

 A light went off in his head. *What if that wasn't a dream but a memory?*
He wasn't sure if he'd gotten them all back; the ones other than Benny.
How do you lose your best friend, and still remember so much around him?
*If it is a memory, who might she be? A teacher I suppose, was I ever
dating a teacher?* He couldn't remember that, it didn't even seem like
something he would do. But the woman in the dream was certainly nice
enough. What if he hadn't met her yet? *Great, Vecchio. That's real good.*
Still, in a way, maybe it made sense. What if this was the one, and he
screwed it up by being with someone else when she came along? It made at
least as much sense as anything else in his life right now. 

 *How would I meet a teacher though?* Well, it wasn't like they weren't
people, hard though that was to believe when he was in school. *Wait, I
know a teacher.* Right, Anne taught at a girls' school. Not all of the
teachers were nuns, these days. *So, I'll go catch up with Sister Anne.
What, and hope this mystery woman shows up?* 

 In the end it was the best he could come up with. If it was a premonition
or whatever, it wasn't impossible that he might just happen to run into
her. So here he was, entering a girls' school to talk to a nun, hoping
she'd find him a woman. "Anne. How's things going? Girls still being
naughty?" 

 "Boys haven't changed that much since we were kids. Mostly they're good
though. Is this a social call, or should I be worried?" 

 "What, like I can't just visit?" 

 "You never have before. Last time I saw you, I had a run-away student." 

 Ray couldn't remember that. *Maybe I know this woman. Maybe it is a
memory.* "Actually, Anne, I lost my memory awhile ago. I thought I had
gotten just about everything back, but I don't recall a run-away." 

 "If I wasn't a nun, I'd think that was a new pick-up line. You really
don't remember?" 

 "No. Though maybe some is coming back. Was I at a dance, here?" 

 "Yes. You don't remember the secret gangster cache?" 

 "Nothing. All I remember is dancing with a woman in blue. Tall. Think
there would be any pictures? Because I think this might be real
important." 

  

 He barely slept anymore. When he slept, he dreamed. They always ended the
same, leaving him crushed after so much happiness. *Ray, I'll never forget
you, but it hurts so bad to remember.* 

  

 He'd really thought he had something there, when he first saw the
picture. It was the woman from his dream, and they looked like they were
having a good time. He was glad he hadn't said anything. *I can see why
Benny didn't tell me about that case. Places changed, I wouldn't have told
him I went undercover as a woman.* Still, it did give him hope. If he
could get back one memory, surely others would start coming into place. 

 Because he really wanted to remember. He'd never had a best friend
before, though from what he was told, he and Benny had been the very best
friends any two men could be. *I want that back.* Even with the Mountie
back home, Ray wanted to at least have his past. *Can you miss someone you
barely know?* 

 Clearly, he could, otherwise he wouldn't be on a plane heading to Canada.
He thought, when he went into Welsh's office, maybe he could get some time
off in a month or so. Knowing it all sounded pretty stupid, he had worked
up a big speech; he only got out a sentence, before he was told to take it
right away. 'Just check in with me in a week. They have phones up there?
If not, send a telegram.' When he told Elaine, she had gotten him onto a
flight that very afternoon. Twelve hours after he'd left for work, he was
sitting in a plane wearing more sweaters than he thought possible, with
just two pieces of luggage and a heavy coat. 

 *I really haven't thought this out.* He was sitting in what had to be the
smallest sandwich shop in all of North America. Two booths and three
counter seats. *I don't even know where the cabin is, much less how to get
there.* "Eric!" Ray had rarely been so happy to see a familar face. It
took awhile for him to get the man to come over. "Eric, it's Ray Vecchio.
Would you know a Benton Fraser? He's a Mountie. Let me guess, that's how I
know you; could you tell me how to get to his father's cabin?" 

 Next thing he knew, he was standing on the front stoop, knocking. *What
am I going to say?* He started to open his mouth in reply to the answered
door, but no words came out. Benny, the friend he couldn't remember, was
standing in a hastily pulled on shirt, toweling his hair. Ray tried to
speak. Then he found his mouth taking over but his brain was gone. 

 Part of him wondered when Fraser would hit him. The rest of him was too
busy feeling how good kissing those lips felt to care. His tongue ran
along the smoothness, finding the teeth inside. When his mouth was filled
by a hot searching tongue, he hoped it would never end. 

 He was being held the slightest bit away. *Breathe.* "Shouldn't you close
the door?" *What did I just do; I mean, I've never done anything like
that, ever.* Ray didn't particularly care; as long as that wasn't the
last. He looked at the Mountie, wondering how he was going to react. The
way he was standing, leaning against the now closed door, scared him. "Um,
do you think you could help me out of these? Unless I should leave, which
I'd understand." 

 

 *Now, he throws me into the snow.* The thought scarcely had time to form
as Fraser turned from the door and flew over to where Ray was standing,
grabbing him by the parka. Instead of being dragged to the door and hurled
outside, Ray found the coat and then the jacket underneath being unzipped
and unsnapped and pushed off his arms. *Oh G-d! Don't ever stop.* Even
through the six or seven layers he was still wearing, he was nearly driven
crazy by the hands roaming over his back. Or was it by the hungry mouth
searching out every corner of his own? Wrapping his arms around the
Mountie, he moved his hands around the lower back, pulling on the hanging
shirt tail, finding bare flesh, hot and slightly damp. *He must have been
taking a bath.* 

 "Ray!" It was all he could say; he was too ecstatic, too filled with
emotion to find any other words. His life had come back, and he needed Ray
so desperately. He worked his lips along the stubbly jaw, back to the
smooth skin behind the right ear, lapping around and then darting his
tongue into the ear itself. Then he kissed his way down as much neck as
was avalible, across the Adam's apple, and back up the other side. There,
he covered the ear with his mouth, tracing his tongue along the edge. 

 *Oh G-d!* Thought wasn't within Ray's capacity; keeping his hands moving
across the broad back his only volition. All he knew, was whatever was
happening, it felt so damn good. He didn't care he was holding and being
held by a man. Nothing mattered at all. "Benny." His legs couldn't support
him. 

 He felt Ray slipping, and pulled him in tighter. He'd been incredibly
foolish. His lover probably was overheating, with all those clothes. When
did he eat last? He moved over to a low bench, sitting the lighter man
down, straddling the bench so he could support Ray's back while getting a
few more layers of clothing off. "I've missed you so much." He nuzzled in,
leaning Ray into his chest. He wanted to say more, but that was all that
would come. 

 Now, he was trembling. His brain had come back, and things were crashing
into place. He'd just meant to get his memories back of his best friend,
and instead he kissed him. *Throughly enjoyed it, too.* Moreover, the
Canadian didn't throw him into the snow, but took him into his arms. "You
smell good. Do you always smell this good?" The part of his mind that
should have been screaming at him was oddly silent. 

 "Ray, what's wrong? You're shaking; too cold for you?" Real smart, take
off too many of his clothes. "You should have called the post. I could
have brought in some real provisions; as it is, all I have is rice and
carribou. Not that I mind this kind of surprise." Benton draped a couple
of the sweaters he had just shucked off back over Ray, enfolding him in
both arms. 

 "Benny, I brought food. I don't know what all ma packed; that's what the
long bag is. Rice and carribou?" He leaned around, to look at the man
holding him. *So blue and happy.* "You love me." It wasn't a question,
though it amazed him somewhat. "Would you have ever told me?" The look in
the other man's eyes was so turbulent, he couldn't entirely read what was
there. Fear, desire, hope, sadness; and so much else. *He told you.* Had
he blown up? Told him he'd think about it? Had they been dating a little? 

 It was all starting to crash in around him, the emotions, the lack of
sleep. Right now, only two things mattered. Ray was here and willing. A
man used to his creature comforts, though he might well ignore them.
"Should I warm something up?" He cupped that lovable, travel rumpled face
in one hand while the other reassured them both neither was going
anywhere. 

 Part of Ray desperately wanted to say 'Yes, me.' Another was starting to
get scared; because he wanted this, because he didn't know exactly what he
wanted, because he didn't want to ruin a friendship he couldn't even
remember. *I'm not scared of Benny.* "Yeah." In the time that bought, he
thought about it. Benny, he trusted Benny. He could very easily let Benny
make love to him. *He loves me.* That bowled him over. Then he was scooped
into those arms and was being held and kissed and carressed. He was
kissing and hugging and carressing back, and then he looked into those
eyes. *Bright Madonna Blue.* As much as he didn't want to stop, he knew he
had to say something. Moving his hands to the other man's chest, pushing
him away gently, Ray gazed into that handsome face. 

 "Benny. This," What could he say? "That you love me, has got to be the
most fantastic gift that's ever come into my life. When I left Chicago, I
thought I was only looking for my past." It was all he could manage to
say. He'd been on the go too long, it was all so unexpected. 

 *NO!* Too much like his dreams, this not a memory, but a fantasy, yet
still ending in the same way. Ray, his Ray, gone. He sunk with a thud to
the floor, crumpling into a cross-legged position. Benton leaned nearly
all the way forward, his arms hugging his ankles as his body shook. 

 *Mother of Mercy!* "Benny." He didn't know what to say. "Benny." He
draped one of the sweaters from around his own shoulders over the sobbing
Mountie. *Why doesn't he make a sound?* Ray tried to get a look at the
face. *No tears either.* He might not remember, but he knew this couldn't
be a good thing. That it was instinctual, the result of long years of
practice; Ray had seen relatives, very rarely, sometimes others, via work,
hit so hard they forgot to moan or drop tears--this, looked different.
"Benny." He tried to console him by rubbing his back. "You don't have to
be silent." Ray mumbled along, slipping into Italian; what words was less
important than there be words. *What is going on in there?* 

 The sound was more like a drowning victim sucking breath, or the scream
of an animal snapped in a bear trap. "Speak to me, Benny. Whatever it is.
Whatever, Benny." Ray was rocking with the solidly built man. He scrambled
to figure out what had so set off the Canadian, but he couldn't clearly
remember his own words, let alone remember much about this man. 

 Fraser was starting to sound more like a person crying. Then he was
moving, pulling the food from its place over the fire, setting it to one
side to cool some. He walked away, and threw himself down. When Ray stood
suddenly, he was relieved to find that Benny had dropped onto a bed. 

 Part of him told him to let the Canadian cry it out alone, to grant him
that dignity. The rest screamed that that was the problem, that he had
spent too many years stifling; probably did so even when there was no one
to hear or see. That majority pushed him to go over to the bed. To use
touch to encourage the tears and sounds. 

 "Benny." Ray scooped him into a hug as the shuddering sobs slowed,
rubbing his back. "Food. Think you can manage? Come on, I figure you must
have at least two plates here." Ray dragged them both to their feet, and
supported Fraser until they could sit down to the warmed Ma Vecchio
prepared repast. 

 Benton ate as an automaton, moving bite-sized pieces into his mouth,
chewing, swallowing and repeating without really tasting. Ray dug in,
worried, but hoping food would make both of them better able to deal with
whatever was going on. 

 "Why did you come?" Ray wasn't entirely sure if the question was really
directed at him. Benny wasn't looking at him, or at much at all. The voice
was low. "Why did you bother." That was said even softer. 

 "I wanted the rest of my past back. I wanted my memories of my best
friend. Tell me what's wrong. Is it because I kissed you?" Ray didn't
honestly believe that, but was uncertain what else could be the problem. 

 "Yes. Hope is the worst form of torture." 

 *What was that supposed to mean?* "I don't get it Benny. Maybe because I
can't remember; there are things other than you I don't recall, you know.
Things you didn't even mention. Like a whole investigation. There might be
others. The point is, I'm here now. And it looks like my future is also
waiting." 

 "It's not the future; it could have been, but not now. 'A people without
a past has no future.' With different pasts, different futures." 

 "Damn it, Benny. This is a hell of a time to make like the oracle at
Delphi. That shit bored the hell out of me in high school English and I
refuse to live it. Everybody screwing up their lives because they twisted
everything around. Tragedy is for opera, Benny. You know, big sopranos and
tenors? Not life, not Mounties and cops. Didn't Aristotle say something
like that?" 

 "Not in the Poetics I read, not that they had either Mounties or cops at
the time..." Benny looked at Ray like he'd sprouted another head; which,
in a way, he just had. "Where is this all coming from?" 

 "Does it really matter? We were talking about pasts and futures. We have
a history, one we share. The main difference, is you remember it and I
don't. What I've heard, makes me want that past. This other, we both want
it. Don't we? Sure, it scares me, but that's life." 

 "It's not that simple." 

 "Who said anything about simple? Simple wouldn't have brought me up here.
Simple would have been finding some woman back in Chicago. You'll notice
where I am. This is not about simple. If I'm right, this has more to do
with love, and that's as complicated as it gets." 

 "Ray..." 

 "Do you want me? Yes or no? Do you want me." 

 "Ray. I love you. Nothing changes that, but that doesn't mean..." 

 "What the hell does that mean? Did I do something stupid or cruel; you
have to explain what the problem is, because I don't know." 

 *Ray.* There was no way to explain. He let his head rest on his knees. 

 "You seemed damned happy to see me when I got here. What changed? Getting
cold feet? Something you wanted but thought you couldn't have shows up and
you're not sure what to do with it? Myself, I am a little shocked. Because
this really complicates my life; that's not going to go away. So I really
want to understand what is your problem." 

 "We can't get it back, Ray. We can't." 

 *Back?* "We were lovers?" He asked it softly, partially for himself. "And
you didn't tell me?" Now Ray was getting much louder. "How long? How
long?" The other man couldn't speak, and just held up two fingers. "Two
weeks? Two months? Two years? Two years!" *You don't tell me about two
years!* "Why the hell not? Just answer that." 

 "You didn't remember." 

 "And?" 

 "Ray." 

 "Don't Ray me! You say you love me, that we were lovers for two years and
you just leave?" 

 "You didn't remember. Not that and not me." 

 That stopped Ray. It was one thing to have to introduce yourself as a
body's best friend; another as that man's male lover. Who doesn't
recognize you, or remember you. "Did you leave because I couldn't be there
for you?" He could accept that; didn't like it but could accept it. That
had split him and Angie apart, and there wasn't even any memory loss.
Still, Fraser was silent. "Benny?" A suspicion settled on him. "Or was it
some misguided sense of nobility? Because I can take you leaving for your
own good, but not for what you thought was mine." Ray, not contradicted,
continued. "That's just like you, Benny; helpful no matter how many people
it hurts. If I told you once, I told you a thousand times, nobody
appreciates it. You get wet, or miss the elevator, does anybody care? Do
little old ladies like feeling they need to be helped across the street?"
Ray was really laying in now. "What is this with you? What displaced
selfishness is it? I really want to know what is more important than love!
You aren't Bogart and there's no Nazi army." 

 "I don't know, Ray. It's just part of who I am." Finally it caught up
with him. "What did you just say? Did you just say what I think I heard?" 

 "I asked you what is more important than love." 

 "Before that. You have told me that before. Repeatedly." 

 "And it never sticks, does it? That people have to do things for
themselves; makes them feel good." Now Ray was noticing it. "Memories.
Well, attitudes I suppose." As Ray calmed down, how tired he was started
to catch up with him, such that he didn't even manage to stifle the yawn. 

 "Ray, you need to go to bed." Fraser went to his sleeping bag and started
to unroll it. 

 "What are you doing?" 

 "I need to sleep too." 

 "I am not kicking you out of your bed. I'll sleep in the bedroll." 

 "Ray, you'll be more comfortable in the bed." 

 "Only on one condition. There's enough room. Otherwise, I'm in the
bedroll." Ray watched as Fraser realized he fully intended to be stubborn.
When that was settled, Ray went to his other bag, and dug out his pajamas.
"You probably better store the rest of the food." He watched as Fraser
pulled out a few things, then hung the bag outside from the stoop roof.
The while he stripped down to his longjohns and put his pajamas over them.


 "Ray." His voices quavered as he saw the slim man standing by his bed. "I
don't think I" *can sleep so close to you. should try to.* "I really think
it would be better..." His mind balked at even thinking the words. Better
and not sleeping with Ray didn't belong together, regardless of propriety
or any other social concern. "Ray." 

 "You can have the bed to yourself. Your call." Ray wasn't too sure about
them sleeping together either, or about taking the bedroll. But he was
damned if he was going to let the Mountie not sleep in his own bed. 

 He was trapped and he knew it. He wasn't going to have Ray sleep on the
floor, and Ray wouldn't sleep in the bed alone. "Get in the bed; I have to
change." He pulled his red longjohns from under the covers and went into
the cold addition. 

 When Fraser returned, the two men stood for a moment, uncertain whether
they trusted the other not to head for the sleeping bag, should they get
into the bed first. Ray turned down one side. Fraser turned down the
other, and sat down. This was matched and raised by one leg under the
covers. Fraser saw and raised, putting both of his legs under the
blankets. 

 *Vecchio, do you want to do this?* He thought about the bedroll. Still,
he put the other leg into the bed. He waited for the other man's move,
trying not to think about the nipples he could see straining at the red
fabric. 

 Seeing that the American was holding, he lay part of the way down.
Wondering if Ray was going to bolt for the bedroll after all. *Ray,
don't.* Don't leave me, don't tempt me. Don't. 

 *Fine. Game over.* Ray fell back, flipping the covers up, both over
himself 

 and the Mountie. He tried not to breathe too hard, as his heart was
making plenty of noise. *Oh, G-d! This bed is way too small for this.* He
rolled to face out. 

 Fraser rolled to face out. *Ray, you shouldn't have done this.* As he
calmed himself down, he became all too aware of the heat coming off the
Italian's back. He fought the twin temptations of breaking for the
sleeping bag and ravishing Ray. 

 Eventually, sleep overcame them both. Dreaming. 

 *Yes. Ray, oh, Ray. Ray,* He shifted him just a mite. *ooh.* Slowly, he
realized he was feeling beard burn. One eye opened. He slammed it tight.
Slowly, he opened the other. Apparently, Ray was still asleep. *You aren't
supposed to wake sleepwalkers. This is wrong, I can't just...* That was
exactly what he wanted to do; he had wanted this for most of the ten very
long months he had been through. *Not like this. He'll wake up, and...*
Fraser knew if he was going to put a halt to this he had to decide how,
and soon. He rolled over onto his side, and then gently worked the other
man apart. 

 *Benny?* Ray tried to find him, waking in the process. "Benny, there you
are..." *Shit.* Right, we're in bed, but not for that. *I don't think my
body got the report.* Actually, he was quite sure. *This cabin isn't big
enough for this.* 

 Fraser was uncertain of what to do. *I could really use an Inuit story
right now.* He met Ray's eyes, looking very guilty. 

 "Dammit, Benny. Finally you have a comfortable bed... You love me. I,
well, I could very well love you. Not remembering, it's really a cramp;
I'd have to get to know you. How could you just leave? Answer that." 

 "It couldn't be the same." 

 "So you threw away two years?" *Yelling won't make him talk.* "Look. Do
you still love me? Not, are you still in love, but do you still love me.
Because you're right, it won't be the same. How does the saying go? 'You
can't stand in the same river twice.'" 

 "Ray, I do love you. I'll always love you." 

 "Then why did you leave? What was so much more important than love? From
what I've heard, we were the best of friends. I shot you, you made me blow
up the Riv. If that didn't make us enemies, we must be tight." 

 "I don't know, Ray. I just couldn't stay without you. It wouldn't have
been fair to you." 

 *Wouldn't have been fair to me for you to have stayed?* "Just how was
leaving fair?" 

 "You still had your life to live. That was all I had left." 

 "You couldn't stay without me, so you left? I thought you were Scottish,
not Irish." 

 "Pardon?" *Aristotle, Celts, Tragedy in translation? Fortune cookie Zen?*
Not that it was exactly Zen, if in a fortune cookie... *Babbling, you are
babbling.* 

 "All you had left was me still having my life to live? So you came up
here, not bothering to tell me we had been lovers for two years?" Ray was
past angry, and into sheer disbelief. "Too much Shakespeare at a tender
age? I can only hope you didn't swallow a Bible too." 

 "Ray, I don't understand. Are you babbling? Because you used to stop me
from babbling, though you don't take nearly so long, but then I'm not sure
I get what you are trying to say. Do you know?" 

 "You're worried if I'm babbling? Benny." *If I'm babbling, it's because
of lack of bloodflow to the brain.* "If I still had my life to live, how
could you not tell me about us? At least that you loved me. I missed you.
Needed you around." Ray just looked into confused blue eyes. "Even though
I didn't know, I just couldn't... Benny, apart we are incomplete. At least
I am." Ray rolled back over to face away. 

 "Together, we are better than we are separately. Can you forgive me?" 

 "Only if we can get some more sleep." *Right, like you can sleep like
this.* "Benny?" 

 "Yes, Ray?" Fraser had rolled to face out as well. 

 "Do people know? About us, I mean?" 

 "People?" 

 "Yeah, people. Who knows and who doesn't." 

 "Knows? Oh, everyone you'd think." 

 "Who, Benny?" 

 "Your family of course. Except for your uncle. People at the station and
the Consulate. We decided against telling Buck." 

 *This is just too damn weird.* "Welsh? My Ma? Everbody?" He wasn't sure
which astounded him more, that they knew and apparently didn't mind, or
that they knew and didn't tell him. 

 "Not everyone, just everyone who knows us. Almost." 

 "Are you going to tell me about the blue dress?" 

 Benton rolled over. "Hum?" 

 "That's the memory I got back. Dozed off and remembered dancing with this
tall woman. You know, I had to have Anne tell me it was you." 

 "I thought you wanted to sleep." 

 "Benny." Ray rolled onto his back, careful with the blankets. "Is there
anything since I lost my memory I should know? I mean, I was dating but...
It never went anywhere, honest." He looked into the blue eyes trying not
to drift off. "Night." 

 

 "Morning, Benny." He noticed he was alone. "Benny?" As he started to
panic, he noticed the note. 'Had to go into town. Outhouse behind the
trees at the end of the path. Will bring back supplies.' *Right, always
have to dress to go to the bathroom.* 

 Ray was defrosting by the fire. "No wonder he never noticed the cold.
That, that is a cold as it gets." *No, it probably gets even colder up
here.* He tried to shove the thought away from his mind. Ray started to
poke around, uncertain how long the Mountie would be gone. *Wonder where
that goes?* Ray opened the door and was chilled by the wall of cold.
*Newspapers. What, five years of the Runamukluk Herald? No, four months of
the Trib.* 

 Ray closed the door. The room confused him, having a fireplace though
clearly unused, except to store Chicago newspapers. *Why put a fireplace
in a room you don't plan to use?* A fireplace was an expensive
proposition, even though Benny had probably done the work himself. "How
the hell would you get that much brick up here?" 

 When Fraser returned, he found Ray dozing but sitting up in the bed,
blankets drawn up to his neck. Careful though he was in sitting down the
things he brought from town, the man stirred. "You know, this happens to
be the only warm place in the cabin." He voice shifted from joking
defensive to sheepish serious. "Fraser, we've got to talk." 

 "I know." He quickly divested himself of his outerwear, and set some
things to the fire. "Ray," 

 "This can't have been easy for you, and while I really wish you hadn't
just left like that, I think I understand. Dammit, Benny, I don't. Why?" 

 "I thought if I left, I thought. It was real hard, wanting you so much,
and I was worried and then. You didn't need to see that, so I came up
here." Fraser tried to collect himself, and started again. "You had
recovered from your wounds, but you still couldn't remember, me, us. I was
worried that I might, I don't know, but I was afraid of what might happen
if I stayed." 

 "I wish I could have figured out why you were so sad. I thought it was
being so far from home. That you'd be happy when you had your real work
again." Ray switched gears. "I thought Mounties didn't get scared?" 

 "They do. Just like Canadians have sex." 

 "Well, you had to wonder with Dudley Doright and Nell." 

 "Ray, the horse wasn't even the right color." 

 Ray motioned for the other man to sit down, and Benton closed the last
bit of distance to the bed. "Promise me one thing. Never do that again.
Don't shut me out. Can you promise me that?" 

 "I'll do my best. That's the most I can promise." 

 Ray assumed his most innuendo-laden look. A full-bloom blush was his
reward. "Since you're a Mountie, I accept your best." Then he turned more
conversational. "What about the blue dress? Or does it embarass you?" 

 "Actually, it embarassed you at the time. You never said why; it was just
clothes, after all." 

 "You dress up like a woman and that's all you can say?" 

 "Other than I have the profoundest respect for your sister, yes." 

 "How did I meet Eric? I ran into him at the sandwich shop. That's how I
got here last night, callled him over and got a lift." 

 "That was the tribal masks case." He saw the lack of recognition. "Two
masks, owned by the Canadian and French governments. There was a
sweatlodge in my apartment." 

 "I don't remember any of it. Just like I don't remember the gangster
stash. I can't believe I had Elliot Ness' gun in my hands and I don't
remember. Benny, do you have a thing about having your own bathroom?" 

 "What?" 

 "Well, you have a frozen outhouse, and in Chicago you shared a bathroom
with your neighbors. And what is the room with the newspapers about?" 

 "Actually, I think it's supposed to be a bathroom." 

 "No toliet, no tub." Ray thought for a moment. "I was supposed to buy
those, and the sink, right? Can't remember why, though." He looked at
Fraser real strange. "A bathroom with a fireplace? You'll have Robin Leach
through with a film crew." 

 "Wouldn't be much good unheated." Fraser willed himself away from the
thoughts those words, belatedly, conjured. "Last night." The question made
his breath catch. "No. Nothing to tell." He'd never be able to love
another. "What are we going to do?" 

 *Difference in vernacular, or is he honestly that straight-laced?* "Not
give up, that's what. Way I see it, we have two problems. First, I still
don't remember beans about our friendship. Second, well," Ray was getting
a tad bashful. "Well, we worked through it once, so I'm sure..." He snaked
out a hand to communicate what he couldn't say. "I really don't know how
to go about this." *How do I say this without offending him?* "I think the
first is more serious; if I had just forgotten we'd been... this would be
a hell of a lot simpler. That didn't come out right. Just, you deserve as
close to the original goods as possible. Right now, you remember a Ray
that I don't, a Ray that knows you." 

 Fraser was close to being swallowed by the dread that had haunted him for
the last ten months. "Ray." This flipflopping was tearing him apart. Hope
swinging him up only to have doubt plunge him down. 

 Ray noticed the other man wasn't looking so good. *Rollercoaster. G-d
damned rollercoaster.* Having no words for the situation, he drew closer
to the Mountie. Enfolding each hand into his own. "Benny, somehow we'll
work this out. What's mine, I keep. Past, future, you; I'm not letting any
of it go. Got that?" He looked over the other's face, seeing a slight
bobbing of the head. "Good." Pulling in closer he rested his forehead on
Benny's brow, kissing it as he parted. "So, what's cooking?" 

 They spent the rest of the day and into the evening talking. About what
Ray did remember, and Fraser relating things he didn't. Finally though, it
was time for sleep. Neither was up to a repeat of chicken poker. "Bed,
Benny. Okay?" Ray couldn't resist. "Why is it you finally have a decent
one, now?" He turned down the blankets, and waited for Benny to start to
get in, before doing the same. They were much too close in the bed, facing
each other. 

 Fraser started to roll over but was stopped with a hand placed on his
shoulder. "Benny." The hand ran to the pale neck hidden by the covers,
carressing the smooth flesh. It wasn't smart, but Ray wasn't interested in
smart just then. Nor in rushing things, though he knew this could very
easily get out of hand. That he was asking too much, for them to share the
bed and still just sleep. Dividing the bed last night nearly was too much;
sharing could only increase the danger. "Sorry." He withdrew his hand. 

 Ray felt the hand back rubbing his cheek, pushing at the stubble. Then it
was gone, and he could feel the shifting, but Fraser wasn't getting out,
just rolling over. Ray did the same, and their backs were nearly touching
but not quite. 

 *Ray, we have to conserve body heat. I suggest we share a carcass. The
insulation and combined body heat should allow us to outwait them.* *Don't
you have doors in Canada? We don't jump out windows in Chicago.* 

 He woke up. *Memories. Strange memories, but memories.* He couldn't just
wake Benny, though. "Ray?" It was very faint and sleep fogged. 

 "It's nothing, go back to sleep." That had just the opposite result, as
the other man sat partially up. "Light sleeper, I see. Did we really wear
our friend Flicka?" 

 "Yes, Ray." A moment's thought. "Anything else you recall?" He tried not
to sound too hopeful. 

 "Some Mountie who was tied to a caribou; no, that was a story. Did that
really happen, or was that just to reassure me when you strapped the pinto
to me? Human shield-- do they have kevlar in Canada. Either way, is it
always like that?" 

 "Well..." Pause. "Unusual circumstances do seem to abound." 

 "You are more careful about tasting things, right? It's gross, and just
asking for someone to spike some mud." 

 "I learned my lesson, thank you. It's not like people purposely bait
their tracks in the Yukon. Hide them, yes. Double back to divert pursuers,
certainly. Set a deadfall or a bear trap, on occassion. Drugged spoor,
no." 

 "Moosejaw. How big is Moosejaw?" 

 "Small. Though it didn't feel that way. Too many people. I hadn't gone
outside the Depot much in Regina." 

 "So they sent you to Chicago? Guess that must have shocked them when it
didn't work. You have been, forgiven? They gotten their heads out of their
butts?" 

 "I think they got tired. But no, I doubt they'll really ever forgive.
They just don't have anything else they could try." 

 Ray hoped the Mountie was right. "You sure? They won't be sending you to
the equator, or posting you in Antarctica." 

 "Well, I liked Alert, so I very much doubt they'd bother with
Antarctica." He tried not to think about the other example. The mere idea
of sentry in the tropics... 

 "Need some snow? An icicle, perhaps? Calm down, it's much too cold for
eavesdropping. Just never take a Spanish proficiency test." He put a hand
on the available arm. "They wouldn't?" 

 "No, I suppose not. Among some circles, those postings are considered
plums. Though I fail to see the attraction. 

 "So it doesn't appeal to those of the Arctic Circle. How did the British
Empire manage with all that serge, anyway?" 

 "Sometimes, they didn't. At least once they lost an entire regiment,
except for the Highlanders. I guess they got the last laugh." 

 Ray quirked an eyebrow, then voiced a 'how's that?' 

 "They had been told they'd be better off out of their kilts and plaids.
But it couldn't strictly be an order, so they refused." 

 

 "Brown uniform." *What?* "Uh, it just popped to mind. Why couldn't it be
an order?" 

 "Regimental uniform, part of the raising ordinance. Brown uniform?" 

 "I don't know. Scouts?" 

 "I wear a brown uniform. Inspector Thatcher nearly fired me because of
it." He paused, wondering if Ray would offer the rest. 

 "Blue. It should be blue. Why brown, then?" Ray started to smile wide.
"It's the old uniform, and they forgot to remove it from the handbook.
You're right, it has a little more panache." His eyes narrowed in the
darkness. "Almost fired you? Courted that over a uniform?" 

 "They aren't cheap, Ray. Except for the time my sleeve was on fire, and
getting stabbed in the leg, it's not like they wear out." 

 "Bindlestitch. Your sleeve was on fire?" 

 "Once. But the shirt underneath was fine. Bindlestitch?" 

 "Boots. You wouldn't let them cut them off. We had to help out a cobbler.
The boots went awol after picking them up from repairs. How exactly did
your grandma Scotchguard you at birth?" 

 "I think she scared the dirt. She was a formidable woman." 

 "With seditious reading habits. No, a habit for ordering seditious
reading material from the American Revolution. Why was that?" 

 "More readily available. And shorter. I was rather young." 

 "And just what would she have ordered if you were older?" 

 "The complete works of Adam Smith. Maybe followed up with Marx." 

 "Marx? I guess it was good you weren't older; I don't think that would
have played well. She really would have given you Marx?" 

 "After I finished Adam Smith. She once came across an Adam Ferguson, but
it was too badly damaged." Fraser realized they had drifted. "Ray, since
when do you refer to Greek literature?" *Or worry about the reading of the
Bible or Shakespeare in youth?* 

 "Isn't me? Must have sunk in deeper than I thought. Did your grandma ever
give you any Mark Twain? Really?" 

 Fraser thought it strangely made sense. One theory held people didn't so
much forget things but ceased recalling where the memory was stored.
Somehow, Ray's English classes had been located. *I wish they could had
been tapped more cheaply, and less dear...* How curious. 

 "Benny? Why all this stuff, I mean, don't get me wrong, but somehow I
thought, well... I'd think I'd remember other stuff first." 

 "You had strong reactions to all of them. Not always positive, but
strong. Like, with the boots, you couldn't believe anyone would spend so
much to repair old ones." 

 "Or that you were less concerned about your leg than them. Did you really
get hit by an otter?" *Whoa.* Now they were collecting, like a... glacier
calving. 

 "Ray, are you okay?" Fraser was holding the slimmer man tightly. 

 "Yeah, I, well, I got a little overwhelmed by a rush of them. Detective
Armani?" *Really.* Ray became very serious. "Sorry about the dead Mountie
crack. I didn't know, but I still shouldn't have said it. I'd have slugged
anyone who said something like that about a cop, just a random cop." 

 He couldn't resist those sad green eyes. "I know; you felt real bad when
you learned he was my father." One arm around his back and the other
across his front, his chin tucked over the shoulder. So close to Ray's
mouth. 

 Which he found latched to his own lips. Then the searching tongue probing
his mouth, insistent but slowly. Ray turning to pull them together,
rolling the Canadian on top. The kiss stretched into a series, placed such
they could breathe in between but neither could speak. Then Ray moved
along one jawline and then the other. Down onto the neck, darting out his
tongue along the way. Fraser was having a hard time remembering his own
name, or anything else. 

 *Oh G-d, Benny!* It just felt so right, the weight pushing against his
chest, pinning him to the bed. *A more than decent bed.* To think
Canadians didn't use these good mattresses--well, who knew? *What?* For a
moment Ray was confused, as it seemed that Benny was starting to glow, and
crackle. *Static. How can it be so, pretty? Like, little stars popping.* 

 "Ray. Ray. Oh, Ray." Fraser was trying to hold still, and discourage Ray
from moving around. He was not entirely pleased when he accomplished the
task. It took a moment to get his breathing in control. "Ray." Stern and
even. 

 "Benny." Hopeful, yet, searching. 

 What could he say? That this was a bad idea? "Ah. I don't think..." 

 "I know. It's just... When? I may never get all of my memory back, so how
much is enough?" 

 Benton pulled himself off. "I don't know. How much of my memory would you
want me to have?" 

 Ray propped himself up and ran his hand across his hair. "You'd have to
know what annoying habits I have, and be able to accept them. Same
situation? You remember everything except me? How I think, and how you
react to it. The little quirks that make you know what I'm feeling. I
don't know what else. That isn't everything I'd want you to know, but
that's what I would need. I'm sure there's more, but at least that." He
looked away and then back. "How do I get that? I remember things like your
boots and you always helping people, and this stubborn streak and your
grandmother giving you books instead of toys. Did you really feed one to a
walrus? I mean, aren't they big to hold something like that out to? That
your dad wasn't around much, and you felt guilty for not saving him. You
weren't even in the right time zone! Fraser, you can't do everything.
Okay, you come damn close, and I don't know how you do it, but you do, and
you got me doing it too. Even though I end up running through sewers, and
frolicking in garbage. Thanks to you I must be supporting half a garment
district. You have an Inuit story for every occassion, though I don't
think you tell them right. Still, they nearly always work. You don't lie,
though you can manipulate people into thinking something else. That's
right, taste mud just to convince them you know what you need them to tell
you. I'm a better cop, a better person for knowing you, even if I can't
remember how. I'd like to think you've gained something from it all, hell
if I can think of a damn thing. 

 "I'm human. Before you, I'm not sure I understood that. I never had a
friend before, not like you. Ray, you had no reason to trust me, or my
methods. I've never told you this, but, well, even when you going on about
how gross it was when I tasted evidence or that you couldn't believe
something I did or got you to do, you went with it. That's more than
anyone else ever did." 

 "You mean besides other Mounties?" 

 "Um." This was getting too close towhy he'd never told Ray. "No." 

 "No?" He looked over at Benny. "Right, you didn't have a partner." 

 He was torn between leaving it at that, and having Ray not know just how
special he was, or telling him the whole truth and inspiring another of
Ray's rants about the R.C.M.P. "Ray?" He felt a light buss on his temple. 

 "Go to sleep." Ray rolled over, and made himself comfortable. Fraser had
much to think about as he drifted off to sleep. 

 When Ray woke, again he was alone in bed. But he could hear sounds.
"Benny?" He got out of bed and looked around. 

 "Decided to join us? Come on, grab a plate." 

 "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" 

 "I switched days. If they really need me, they know where I am. Actually,
I suppose I should have asked you that question a couple of days ago." 

 "Welsh approved it when I said I was coming up here. Elaine found me a
flight. That's why I wanted to know who knew. What did you do, swear them
to secrecy?" 

 "What? No. Ray, I really am sorry about just leaving like that. I, I
couldn't tell you, not flat out." 

 "Why not?" Ray finished another fork full. "In two years didn't we work
through all this?" Ray gestured with the laden fork and popped it in his
mouth. "If, well, if we were married, would you just not tell me? I'd
think after two years, you'd think of it that way. It is like that,
right?" Ray noticed he had no answer. He focused on Fraser. "I thought you
didn't have a problem with this. You're the open minded one." 

 Ray had him there. It would have been abandonment. He couldn't figure out
why he had thought it the needful thing to do. "I guess I wanted it to be
your choice." It sounded lame to himself. 

 "Choice? Benny, let me get this straight, we are together, together, for
two years, I forget, and you just leave, and somehow, it's my choice?
Choice, you would have told me. Not that it should be a hard call. Two
years should be all the choice I'd need." 

 "Not knowing, well all the stuff that led up to that, I wasn't sure you'd
still... Ray, I mean, you'd been married, and you dated women, before
we... I really don't understand it either." Fraser didn't like what it
said about him. 

 "G-d, Benny. You hate it when I beat up on myself. Listen to me. I like
how you make me feel. When you aren't being stupid and making my brain
hurt, that is. That I'm not attracted to other men doesn't change that,
nor does the fact I have been attracted to women. So yeah, before you, I
went for women. But not since you. I want you, not them." Ray ate while he
let Benny digest that. "Isn't it pretty much the same for you, not that I
really give a damn. I doubt I'll be any less fine with anything the second
hearing." He did however wait, wanting to understand better. 

 "I was in love once, I thought I was. You remembered her, right after you
could talk. So, I can't really say. I, didn't pay much attention either
way." *Damn it, Victoria, why can't you leave me alone?* "I let her hurt
you, might have hurt you so much worse, and yet somehow... Ray, you don't
deserve me. You deserve better. I don't deserve you. How could you forgive
me?" *I don't forgive me.* 

 "That was before. Right? What was before, I don't have to forgive.
Otherwise, you'd have more to forgive me." 

 "Ray..." 

 "No. I don't care. I won't let Victoria win. I wasn't going to let her
destroy you then, and I won't let her do it now. We got through that hell
once, so don't you dare go back there." *What I remember is bad enough.* 

 Fraser was stunned. 

 "You promised to do your best, to not shut me out. So you've got to let
me make my own decisions, instead of 'protecting' me, or whatever you
thought you were doing." Ray paused to collect himself for the next part.
"Don't go tearing yourself up on my account, because I'm not into that.
You want me, don't settle for a newspaper subscription. You worry about
'for your own good' for yourself, not me. Not that I don't want you as
backup." He shifted gears. "Or front up. Benny, I can't say things will be
the same. I couldn't have promised that before though either. This cabin,
your bed, are too small if we aren't going to get past... what would you
call it?" 

 "What do you want to do?" 

 "See what happens." Ray place a hand on Fraser's thigh. "It's been nearly
a year." He looked into the blue eyes, hoping he could interprete them.
"How about you, am I close enough?" 

 "If I said no, would you hold it against me?" He put a hand over Ray's
thigh. 

 Ray leaned over, decreasing the distance between them. "You'd like me to
get closer?" 

 "Yes, Ray." Fraser encouraged with his moving hands. 

 

 The Beginning... 

 

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