Symphony of Simplicity by L.A.K.     Symphony of Simplicity
 by L.A.K.   

  Pairings: Ray Vecchio/Renfield Turnbull (Yes, you did read that right!),
Vecchio/Fraser
 Teaser: Turnbull and Ray are closing in on the fugitives Fraser and
Victoria. Somehow, they still manage to find each other.
 Notes/Disclaimer: Copyright to Alliance. Thanks, Cheryl, for all the
advice - it helped greatly! I am forever indebted to my Archive uploader
Sally. 

 **This is the third in a series of four:**
 Part One: Choreography by Gilda Lily (Thanx, Gilda, for letting me
continue this!)
 Part Two: Strange Duet by L.A.K.
 Part Three: Symphony of Simplicity  

   Symphony of Simplicity
 by L.A.K.  

  He could tell it was after midnight. It was warm here and peaceful,
despite the raging blizzard outside. He could hear the snowfall, the wind
whipping up and landing the frozen particles all around in a melodious
frenzy. Yes, falling snow did have a sound, when you got far away enough
from the city's deafening presence. He realized he must've fallen asleep.
He felt content and honestly did not want to wake up. It was a very deep,
yet short sleep. One he needed, seeing what their journey was going to be
like soon. 

 Fluttering, consistent keystrokes could also be heard in the background,
like the snowflakes outside. It made him remember where he was. It
occurred to him that every day he was able to wake up and go just a little
longer and not remember. He did not smile, but was grateful for that
simple advancement. Until, of course, the truth would wash over him like a
bucket of ice water. 

 Still, that extreme pain was something he was recovering from a little
more at a time. It came in waves, but the injury to his soul was closing
as they came closer to their goal. And they *were* getting closer. Like a
well-executed ballet, for every move their target made, they were not far
behind. Stealthily, they were tracking them and laying out plans for the
future. 

 *The future...* 

 The Detective stretched out, feeling his limbs pop, his gun nudging him
in the ribs. He did admit to a little thrill at the memory of being handed
his badge back, with Lt. Welsh's blessing to "go get the bastard." He
cracked his interlaced knuckles and twisted his neck to the side. Ray
Vecchio was just glad to have a future and knew he probably wouldn't have
one if it hadn't been for Renfield Turnbull. How could he have turned his
back when Ren came to him with such a plan? 

 He squinted his eyes to look at the man on the other side of the room,
who hadn't even turned around. His back was straight and his eyes were
fixated on the computer screen before him. His hands moved over the
keyboard in a quick rhythm, his pace steady, but hurried. At first mention
of the person they needed to use, Vecchio went ballistic, raging and
screaming as Turnbull crumbled before him. 

 It took the Italian days to come to grips with the fact there really
wasn't much else they could've done. It was just another two-step with the
devil since the odd duo had teamed up together. At least this time, he'd
made the reluctant decision with eyes wide open, knowing whom he was
dealing with from the beginning. 

 Ray sighed. Rennie had been working for non-stop for weeks now.
Especially ever since Ray went nuclear at his suggestion. He felt sorry
for the poor kid. He was convinced he would find someone, *anyone* else to
aid them as efficiently as their past help had been. All with no luck. Ray
did smile now, upon the realization of his sympathy. He couldn't believe
he was still capable of feeling anything for anyone, especially after what
he'd conceded to as of late. 

 The compromise was just another level of Hell he'd had to endure to make
progress. Yet the shy, determined Constable had displayed such utter
passion in his quest, *their* quest, it was hard not to give the man
credit. He smiled wider, awed by Rennie's tireless efforts, despite the
combined loathing of their latest informant....and his own warped sense of
generosity. He mused to himself: was Ray Vecchio really the "Hope Springs
Eternal" type? 

 That hope, was however, being attacked by a new cancer. It was the fear
of finally confronting Fraser. The search had gone well in the last month,
with their contacts being surprisingly helpful. Sure, there were the lies
and the false leads, but Turnbull ingeniously cross-referenced each and
every one, making the dishonest tips apparent. Ray had no idea how he was
going to react, seeing "Benny" (ick!) trying to kill him while attempting
escape. The steps in this dance were leading to one Hell of a finale. 

 They were slyly, cautiously closing in. 

 Soon, they would head out, leaving behind the computer, the warmth of the
outpost, with little to go on except what information they'd learned in
the past months and...trusting the advice of someone who'd love to see him
dead. He shrugged. 

 *Maybe it was the CD player with all that classical music that changed
his mind. Or the subscription to Scientific American.* Ray thought. 

 Once in the wild, Diefenbaker could also help them track the suspects,
with him knowing Fraser's mind, and the Territories, better than anyone.
And, should they get lost, the Canadian authorities had instructions as to
their general whereabouts at all times. It would also take no trouble to
find them when they had apprehended the criminals. 

 Ray squeezed his hands to his eyes. He *hated* all this watching his back
every moment of the day and night. It was like being in some bizarre,
LSD-influenced opera. Anticipating the worse, he had Ren dig up some vital
information and squirreled it away with one of the few people he still
trusted. So now, he felt reasonably safe, even in the lion's den of the
Mountie outpost. 

 As he had since he started this endeavor, he let the person in charge
know that someone was holding a list, a very damning document of names.
All of whom were involved with Victoria and Fraser in the faulty
construction of the dam. 

 Sure, most had been exposed when Fraser turned in Gerard, but the
dark-haired Canadian had made it nearly impossible to find his own
immediate allies. That is, unless you've scorned a fellow Mountie. There
was, in that case, very little that could hide from Ren. Should Ray or
Turnbull meet with an untimely death or injury, he informed the head
Constable, well, it wouldn't be a shock to see that list of names appear
in the Whale Blubber Sun-Times Newspaper. Mrs. Zuko would soon be
receiving word via email that they were okay and not to run to the press
just yet. 

 "Damn it!" Ren snapped, slapping his hands on the table. 

 Ray looked in his direction. 

 "What's wrong, Ren?" 

 The Mountie obviously did not hear him or was too engrossed in his work
to respond. Ray glanced at the clock and did a double take. It was 2:35
a.m. 

 "Ren..." Ray said admonishingly, "Don't you think it's time to pack it in
for the night? Rennie!? Answer me!" 

 "I'm...fine, Ray. Just a bit of a setback, but we're still on schedule." 

 Ray sighed. He knew what Ren was trying and he actually felt a little
guilty for his initial outburst regarding their present informant. 

 "Ren," he said, getting off the couch and slowly making his way over to
the man still concentrating on the computer. "Give it a rest. I know
you're exhausted. You've been going at this for over twelve hours. I was
at it before that. You've done your duty, just stop for now. Get some
sleep." 

 "I can't. I...must do this." Ren insisted, his fingers creating a tired,
broken cadence over the keys. 

 Ray knelt before him. 

 "Look, I forgave you, okay? I know there was nothing else we could've
done. We've made a Hell of a lot of progress in the last few weeks.
Especially after going almost nowhere for weeks before that." 

 The typing halted. The soft song of letters being depressed was silenced
and it made the room seem incredibly quiet. The forlorn blue eyes finally
looked down, away from the screen that previously had him mesmerized. 

 "But, I betrayed you, I-" 

 "No, you didn't. You suggested something and I went nuts. You couldn't
have had any idea how strongly I felt about that." 

 Ren unexpectedly turned to face his partner. 

 "But, I promised you, Ray, that I would find someone else. This...is what
I mean when I say I become obsessed. Do you know I can't remember the last
time I ate a full meal or the last time I slept more than four hours
straight?" 

 He fidgeted in the chair, not wanting to continue, but obviously feeling
he must. 

 "This is how I cope, Ray. I focus my attention, *all* of it, on something
else - a goal, a task, anything that requires me to be so busy I *can't*
think about anything else. That way I can't think about..." 

 His eyes grew wide, his voice trailing off. 

 "What, Ren?" 

 "Nothing." 

 "Nothing, my foot. Come on, what is it?" 

 "I...that I miss him." 

 Ray's eyes also widened for a second, but relaxed in mutual
understanding. It was hard, so very hard, to forget such intimate
betrayal. 

 "I know. Me, too." Ray said, his voice compassionate and hurting. 

 Ren straightened his back and his face grew serious. He set his jaw and
spoke in his most solemn voice. Ray felt a slight chill creep up his spine
at the other's man conviction. 

 "I will find an alternative for us, Detective." 

 Ray slumped his shoulders. This was like beating puppy who couldn't
control his bladder while the dog was living outside anyway. Talk about
futile. They were so close to Fraser and Victoria they could practically
spit on them, but Turnbull was intent on finding another contact who
didn't make Ray sick inside. The kid's self sacrifice was unreal. 

 Gazing into those guileless cerulean eyes, there was an odd feeling in
his stomach now, but it wasn't at all nausea. It slowly made it's way down
to his nether-regions, the stirring an almost forgotten one. Ray looked
away, aware of what he was feeling for the Mountie and mentally cursed
himself. 

 *What?! After falling for this shit once, what's wrong with me?! It is
that blasted red uniform that gets to me or what?!* 

 But Rennie wasn't wearing his red serge now. He had on a pair of blue
jeans that were fairly new and a faded RCMP sweatshirt. His hair was
perfect and... 

 Ray found himself cupping the cheek of the man before him, the look of
intense fervor on the Canadian being replaced by wide-eyed shock. Ray
heard himself speaking, his mind just now catching up with the words. 

 "I know you're trying, but it's all right, Rennie really. I'm just glad
we've come this far. No matter what happens, I'm thankful for all you've
done to help me." 

 A warm hand was placed over Ray's. 

 "I-it's okay. I'm...h-happy to help." 

 The Italian knew they were both babbling, but he didn't care. Rennie was
just as excited as he was. He quickly leaned in, meeting soft, warm lips
against his own. The Canadian responded, his mouth parting and inviting
Ray's tongue inside. He slid his arms around Turnbull's back, overjoyed he
could feel aroused without the pain, the terror stifling it as it had for
so many months. 

 He chuckled a bit, knowing how completely impossible all this seemed when
he first met Rennie. If there were two that never meant to be together, it
was them. Ren embraced him, quickly slipping off the chair, to his knees.
Turnbull's moves were like that of a song incarnate. He was fluid and
precise, when played correctly, his body like a beautiful, magical
instrument. Ren's moaning was music to his ears. 

 Tiny kisses rained over the detective's neck and face, like a bow
flitting over a violin's strings, causing his pulse to quicken by the
second. He was feeling again! It came rushing back, like a melting
avalanche, a flooding wave of awareness. He gasped when Ren latched onto
his earlobe and suckled gently. 

 "Rennie...." he moaned, returning the favor of being ravished with his
own sensual exploration. First, that sweet neck was lightly caressed with
his lips, feeling the vibrations of Rennie's rapid pulse, his nose
brushing Ren's ear, a little licking at the lobe. His skin was so soft,
his lips supple and moist. It gave Ray chills to think of that sensuous
mouth elsewhere. 

 The look of longing from the younger man was spurring Ray on. The
detective aggressively pulled him closer for a deep kiss, his hands
sliding under the sweatshirt, gliding over the taut muscles and hot skin
of his back and chest. Turnbull hissed, the sound harmonious with Ray's
increased breathing. He found his way under Ray's beige cardigan, his hand
lightly stroking a nipple. 

 Ray gasped again and had to restrain himself from throwing Rennie down on
the carpeted floor. It was late and there really wasn't much of anyone at
the outpost who would disturb them, but he certainly didn't want to get
caught! 

 That thought ran straight from his mind as Ren captured his lover's
mouth, the nipple now being rolled and pinched. The back of Ray's neck was
seized and he felt himself grow dizzy with Ren's tongue darting in and out
at all angles. Vecchio mused it was all that restrained youthful energy
finally seeing the light of day. He marveled at the gloriously erotic opus
they were creating. Turnbull arched his back, his erection made evident
against Ray's thigh. 

 The lust within jumped tenfold and the Italian threw caution to the
blizzard outside. He pushed Ren down, landing almost on top. He was giving
in, surrendering to the love Rennie was offering. They would heal, close
that awful wound Fraser created by loving one another. 

 There was the most annoying, occasional beep in the background. 

 It continued, creating a disturbing sequence. Finally, Ren looked deep
into his green eyes and cursed words he didn't know the *truly* innocent
Mountie was aware of. Finally, Ray realized it was the computer. The
despised party Ren had been conferring with was now getting back to him.
It didn't kill Vecchio's desire, but it did make it wane considerably.
Rennie looked up at Ray and smiled a bit. 

 "I'm sorry, Ray. Perhaps...later?" 

 "Um, sure." The Italian nervously replied, while standing. He helped his
partner up. 

 They embarrassedly glanced at each other. 

 "I...should get back to work." Ren suggested. 

 Vecchio rolled his eyes, but he knew there was no arguing with the
stubborn Canadian. 

 "Fine. But you knock it off soon, okay? I need you well rested. We have
plans, you know." 

 Tracking Fraser and Vicky in the tundra was going to require them to get
all the rest they could. The oddest look of hesitant restraint combined
with wanton desire came over Rennie's face. 

 "Oh Ray, I'll rest up plenty if *that's* your plan for me." He cooed. 

 The computer was persistent, but Turnbull just smiled and placed a sweet,
lazy kiss on Ray's lips, ignoring the look of shock he was getting.
Finally, he glided away, back into the chair and turned his attention to
the screen. Ray managed to back off, finding his way back to the couch. He
stretched out this time and felt himself drifting. He smiled as he slipped
into sleep. He was going to love the look on Fraser's face when he slapped
the cuffs on him. He'd do it for Ren, if nothing else. 

 Ren began typing, hating every second of it. Still, the information given
by the contact had been invaluable. He'd been right. Fraser and Vicky were
getting sloppy. Given, no ordinary police force would've been able track
them this far. But Ren and Ray had more than simple officers of the law at
their disposal these days. 

 It angered Ren to no end that they probably could've arrested them at
least a couple of times, had not their informant obtained such glee at
giving them grief. The news of his dinner salad bar being revoked usually
got him back on track of genuinely helping them. 

 **Kind, sir:** Turnbull typed, not being able to think of a title that
would truly suit the man he was speaking of, **Your help has been most
enlightening. I do believe we are not far from apprehending the fugitives
in question. As stated in our agreement, you will continue to receive the
rights and privileges after they have been arrested. However, should you
abuse any of these allowances, they will be removed at once. This includes
if we are not able to bring about an arrest.** 

 It took a few minutes, but the email was received and the instant
messenger returned with a reply: 

 **I assure you, Constable, the pleasure has been all mine. I have enjoyed
aiding you and Detective Vecchio in your task. You both were wise to
swallow your pride and come to me. I still say, Ren, 'Zealots are great,
as long as they're on your side'.** 

 "Yeah, right." Turnbull mumbled. It was something the man mentioned while
he was in his presence. He made Ren tell all of his story, what Fraser had
done to Ray and him and how they needed help in catching Victoria and the
ex-Mountie. It had been excruciating. The message continued. 

 **I am most grateful for the opportunity to match my wits against a
worthy opponent. It's rather difficult when one is as removed from society
as I am. And the two you are tracking are quite wily, but stupidly in
love, which is their weakness. I would like to converse with this
ex-Mountie once he is brought in. We seem matched in intelligence,
tracking skills and an absence of traditional morals. I appreciate his
lack of conscience, the purity of no regret. It is a symphony of living by
simple necessity. It is admirable.** 

 "I think I'm going to puke." Ren stated. 

 **I thank you for the computer especially. Without it, I would not have
been able to do the research necessary. It has provided many hours of
entertainment. I am surprised at how addicting the Internet can be, seeing
I've always considered myself the independent type.** 

 Ren's stomach rumbled with unease. He remembered just what *kind* of
research had been conducted besides working for them. It ranged from
animal dissections to a myriad of sexual fetishes. It made the guards
vomit on sight. 

 **I will leave you now, Ren. I appreciate the chance to use my skills and
hope to hear from you in the near future. - Carver.** 

 Rennie sighed and shook his head. 

 *My God, this man is a sick.* 

 He turned off the computer, refusing to responding, wondering how many
more levels of pride they would have to sacrifice before living normal
lives again. He glanced at the dozing detective and knew there was no way
that would ever happen. They would be together soon and then, there was no
going back. He found himself smiling, liking that idea. He was going to
love the look on Fraser's face when he discovered what he'd lost - in the
both of them. 

 END 

 Dedicated to Freddie Kasaab - and all "Zealots"