The Letter	 The Letter by Iris M Gray

 Author's webpage: http://victoria.tc.ca/~wy236/fic.html

  

 <PRE> 

 Benton Fraser sat at his desk, pen in hand, trying to write a goodbye
letter. He was going up north on an extended leave of absence. He'd
applied for a transfer, but Inspector Thatcher wouldn't accept it. She did
seem to sense that there was something behind his desire to leave Chicago,
and she had tactfully suggested that he take some time off to "think about
his options." 

 His options? Option 1: Stay, and die a slow, agonizing death watching his
partner, Ray Kowalski, continue to flirt with everything female that came
his way. Option 2: Leave, and try to make some sort of life for himself up
north. It would be painful, leaving Ray, but not as painful as staying
with Ray. Not as painful as hiding his love for the Chicago flatfoot with
experimental hair. 

 Ben had contacted Buck Frobisher and arranged to rent a cabin from him.
He hoped that if he stayed in the Territories long enough Thatcher would
realize he wasn't coming back and grant his transfer. In the meantime, he
would do some fishing, maybe some hunting. Perhaps he could look up some
old friends like Innusiq or Quinn. 

 He returned to the letter he was writing. He needed a plausible, though
fictional, explanation for his sudden departure. But he found himself
writing the truth. 

 "My dearest Ray: 

 I wish that things could be different between us and that I didn't have
to leave. But I know that you could never love me the way that I love you.
That isn't your fault. I don't blame you for it. You couldn't have
expected that your male partner would fall in love with you. You like
women, I know. You couldn't hide your feelings for Stella even if you
tried. 

 It will be easier for both of us if I go. Inspector Thatcher has refused
to grant me a transfer so I have taken a leave of absence for the time
being. Leaving you hurts more than almost anything I have ever felt; the
only thing that hurts more is knowing that you do not love me. And so I
must leave. 

 Please don't worry about me. I'll be all right. 

 I love you, Ray Kowalski. 

 Ben" 

 Fraser read the letter over several times before dropping it in to his
recycling box. Then he picked up his pen once more and wrote a short note,
devoid of any feelings. 

 "Ray: 

 I'm sorry that I left without saying goodbye, but my decision to leave
was an abrupt one. I'm taking a leave of absence and going back to Canada.
I don't know when I'll be back. The Inspector has agreed to let my return
date remain open. 

 Take care, 

 Ben " 

 He hesitated before signing his first name. Ray never used it, though
Fraser had often wished that he would. But signing "Fraser" seemed too
cold. He sealed the envelope, placed a stamp on it and mailed it to the
27th precinct. Then he picked up his duffel bag and, calling to
Diefenbaker, headed for the airport. 

 Two days later Ray Kowalski found the letter on his desk. It was short
and to the point. Fraser had left and might not be coming back. But why?
It didn't say. Ray was stunned. There hadn't been any indication that
Fraser was thinking of leaving. He had been offered a transfer some time
ago, but he'd turned it down. That was during the dead pirate case, when
they hadn't been getting along. But he'd thought they'd worked through
their problems. 

 Maybe they hadn't. 

 Ray tried to stifle the tears that threatened. It wasn't possible, was
it, that Fraser had picked up on Ray's feelings for him? Was that why he'd
left? He thought he did a good job of hiding how he really felt about the
Mountie, even putting on a show of chasing after Stella. He'd actually
given up on his ex-wife a long time ago. But he hadn't told Fraser that. 

 The detective picked up the phone and called the Canadian Consulate.
Inspector Thatcher was sympathetic but unhelpful. She did know where
Fraser was, but she wouldn't tell Kowalski. She didn't just go around
handing out her people's addresses. That was private information. 

 "Inspector, could you at least tell me - is Fraser okay?" he asked. 

 "I honestly don't know, Detective," was Thatcher's answer. 

 Damn. Ray replaced the phone. He had no idea where Fraser was or why he'd
left. He supposed that his partner - former partner - didn't want Ray to
know where he was. And that hurt. 

 A few days later Constable Turnbull was emptying all the individual
recycling boxes from the various offices into the one big container that
would go outside to the curb. As he picked up the box in Fraser's office,
his curiosity got the better of him. So he was a little bit inquisitive.
Okay, a lot inquisitive. It wasn't like Fraser was here to see him. He
picked up the papers to see what they said. 

 Renfield was quite surprised at the letter near the top of the pile. It
was addressed to "My Dearest Ray." 'Ray' must be Detective Vecchio. He
recalled the blonde man's temporary asylum in the Consulate. He'd kind of
liked having the detective around, even if he didn't appreciate the merits
of curling. So this letter was to him, then. The young Mountie read the
rest of it. Goodness, he'd never guessed that his superior felt this way
about the American. He'd had some suspicions, but no evidence. Surely
Fraser hadn't meant to throw this letter out? It must have been blown off
his desk or something. Well, no, Fraser may have indeed meant to throw it
out. That didn't mean that it had to stay thrown out. Turnbull folded it
carefully and put it in his pocket. Then he hurriedly finished with the
recycling boxes and headed off to the 27th Precinct. 

 Ray Kowalski looked up in surprise when he saw Constable Turnbull heading
toward him. At first he'd seen the red serge and assumed it was Fraser. It
was painful to realize that it wasn't his partner but another Mountie. 

 "Hello, Detective Vecchio, " said Turnbull. 

 "What can I do for you, Turnbull?" asked Ray, trying to be polite. It
wasn't Turnbull's fault that Ray had thought he was Fraser. 

 "I have a letter for you, from Constable Fraser," answered the young man.


 "A letter?" Why had Fraser not sent a letter to him directly ? 

 "I'm afraid I only just discovered it today. Constable Fraser must have
forgotten to give it to you before he left. I found it in his recycling
box - it must have fallen in there by accident." He handed the paper to
Ray, then, with a slight nod, he left. Knowing the private nature of the
letter, he wanted to leave the detective alone to read it. 

 Ray read the missive in astonishment. Fraser loved him! But he had
believed that Ray could never love him in return, so he had left. Why
hadn't he said anything? //Well, why didn't YOU say something, stupid?//
he asked himself. After all, he'd put on a pretty good show of being
heterosexual, just so that Fraser would never find out how he felt. Time
to correct that. 

 Once again, Ray called the Consulate. Once again, Inspector Thatcher
refused to tell him where to find Fraser. Damn. Then he had an
inspiration. Turnbull. The young Mountie had delivered Fraser's letter to
him. Maybe he would give Ray Fraser's address? 

 As quickly as he had the idea, though, Ray dismissed it. He didn't want
Turnbull to get in trouble with the Ice Queen, which he surely would if
she found out. Hmm. Maybe there was a way to get around the Inspector. He
dialed the number that used to be Fraser's direct line, which, for the
moment, was being answered by Turnbull. 

 "Yes, Detective?" Turnbull said when Ray identified himself. "What can I
do for you?" 

 Man, and he'd thought Fraser was polite. Turnbull was even more polite
than Fraser. "Well, I was wondering if there was anyone that Fraser was
planning to see when he was up north, any friends in particular ... he uh,
he asked me to send him some stuff in care of a friend, but I just can't
make out the friend's name." 

 Turnbull smiled at the request. He had a pretty good idea what the
detective really wanted to know. "Any packages for Constable Fraser can be
sent in care of Sergeant Buck Frobisher," he answered. 

 "Thank you, Turnbull. I'm sure that's the name I wanted." 

 "You're welcome, Detective. And give Constable Fraser my regards when you
see him, will you?" 

 Ray was left staring at the receiver as Turnbull hung up. Sometimes he
wondered if he underestimated that man. 

 It took some detective work, but Ray was finally able to locate Buck
Frobisher. The Sergeant did know where Fraser was staying and offered to
give Ray the necessary directions and supplies if he could make it up
North. The detective was quite determined that he would make it up north,
and he thanked the senior Mountie for his offer. "I'll be there as soon as
I can," he promised. 

 That was, if Welsh would let him go. 

 Somehow, he managed to beg, plead and cajole his Lieutenant into giving
him a few days personal leave. And he was on his way north. North to where
Fraser was. 

 The young woman in the seat next to his was chattering non stop. She was
going on about her boyfriend, who apparently worked up north. She was on
her way to see him and couldn't stop talking about him, how wonderful he
was, how good looking he was, etc. Finally, Ray gave her what he hoped was
a winning smile and said, "Yeah, I'm on my way to see my boyfriend, too." 

 The young lady was quiet after that. 

 At the airport, Ray's seatmate was met by the man whom he assumed was the
'handsome, wonderful' boyfriend. A white-haired Mountie was there waiting
for Ray, and he introduced himself as Sergeant Buck Frobisher. "So, you're
Benton's friend," said Frobisher. 

 Benton. Funny, Ray never really noticed Fraser's first name. He was
always "Fraser." "Yeah, we worked together in Chicago," he answered. 

 "Then you must know the other young man who works at the Consulate,
Turnbull." 

 "Yeah, I've met him a few times." 

 "Fine young man, Turnbull. I'm certain that with Ben's example he'll grow
into a fine officer." 

 As they got into Frobisher's four-wheel drive vehicle, Ray asked, "So,
have you known Fraser very long?" 

 "I've known the lad all his life," replied the Sergeant. "I was partners
with his father. I must say I'm glad that he has friends in Chicago.
Benton always seemed to have a hard time making friends. Perhaps it was
because his grandparents moved around so much." 

 "He must've been lonely," commented Kowalski. 

 "I'm certain that he was. His mother was dead, his father was away much
of the time. But he never complained." Frobisher sighed. "That was part of
his father's influence, of course. Robert saw displays of emotion as a
sign of weakness. He probably told Benton to 'be a man,' or told him that
'big boys don't cry.' " 

 Ray frowned. That did explain some things about Fraser's behavior. The
Mountie never displayed any type of emotion that Ray saw. That was
probably also why he had left rather than telling his partner how he felt.
"Did Frase- uh, Benton - date girls, very much?" 

 The older man looked thoughtful. "Well, I wasn't around much more than
his father, so I didn't see much of his social life. But he did go out
with my daughter a few times. Still, he always seemed more comfortable
around other boys than he was around girls. Normal for a teenager, I'm
sure." 

 Normal for a teenager, maybe, but Fraser was a grown man and he still
wasn't comfortable around women. Ray couldn't help but find that
significant. 

 Frobisher provided Kowalski with a Skidoo and some basic supplies.
Luckily, the cabin wasn't far away, since Ray was not experienced in
surviving in the north. It was also fortunate that the Skidoo had a good
light on it, because it was dark almost around the clock at this time of
year. It took most of a day, but finally the detective arrived at the
small cabin. Diefenbaker was outside, and greeted his friend excitedly. 

 "Let's hope your human is happy to see me too," Ray said to the half-wolf
as he gave him a pat in greeting. Then the cabin door opened. Fraser must
have heard Diefenbaker barking. 

 "Hey, Fraser. How are ya?" Ray asked as calmly as he could. 

 "Ray." Fraser didn't know what to say. What on earth was Ray doing here?
How had the American found him? "Er ... what are you doing here?" 

 "I got your letter," replied Kowalski. 

 "My letter?" All he'd said in his letter was that he was leaving. He
didn't know how that could have prompted Ray to come all the way out here
to see him. 

 "What about my letter?" asked Ben. 

 Ray shivered. "Look, can we go inside? I need to talk to you." 

 "Very well." Fraser led his American friend into the cabin. It was small
and sparsely furnished, but stocked with what looked like enough supplies
to last for several winters. Obviously Fraser was planning to stay here
for a long time. 

 When Ray had removed his heavy outer garments and was seated in front of
the fire, he started to say what he'd been going over in his head for the
last several days. 

 "Guess you wonder what I'm talking about," he began. 

 "You mentioned something about my letter," Fraser prompted. 

 "Yeah. Your letter. But not the one you sent. I mean the one that you
didn't send." 

 The letter he didn't send? Surely Ray didn't mean ...? "What letter would
that be?" 

 Ray removed the well-worn letter from his pocket and handed it to Fraser.


 "Wh-where did you get this?" the Mountie asked in shock. 

 Ray smiled. "Seems it fell off your desk and landed in the wastebasket.
Turnbull found it and thought you musta forgotten to mail it. So he
delivered it to me. He thought I'd want to see it." 

 Turnbull? Turnbull had read his letter to Ray? 

 "Hey, don't get pissed at Turnbull. He thought it was important. And it
was - is - important." 

 "I never meant for you to see that letter, Ray," Fraser stated. 

 "I kinda figured that. But why the hell not?" the blonde man demanded. 

 Feeling a bit defensive, the Canadian replied, "Because I didn't want you
to know how I feel about you." 

 "And again I ask, why the hell not?" 

 Fraser groaned. "Ray, most men do not want to hear that another man is in
love with them." 

 "I'm not most men," Ray said quietly. "That is exactly what I want to
hear. As long as that man is you, Fraser. Ben." It was the first time he'd
ever called his partner by his first name. He liked the way it sounded. 

 Avoiding the other man's intense gaze, Fraser said, "Ray, you can't mean
that." 

 "Like I asked before, why not?" 

 "You're a police officer, Ray! The Chicago police department isn't
exactly accepting of ... alternative lifestyles." 

 "What lifestyle? This isn't a lifestyle, Fraser! This is me, Ray
Kowalski, in love with you, Ben Fraser. The Chicago P.D. can go to hell
for all I care." 

 Fraser was about to argue some more, but he stopped short. "You - you're
in love with me?" he asked. 

 "Why do you think I came all the way up here, ya idiot?" 

 "I love you, too, Ray. But it won't be easy for you, being a cop and
being in a relationship with a man." 

 "So who says we have to tell anyone?" 

 "People are bound to find out eventually, Ray. Especially with Francesca
working at the precinct." 

 Ray stepped forward and took his partner in his arms. "As long as you're
with me, Ben, I can handle whatever they throw at me. Will you come back
to Chicago with me?" 

 "Yes, I will," came the Mountie's response as he returned the embrace.
"Do you really think I'm an idiot?" he asked with some amusement. 

 Ray smiled into his lover's shoulder where he had rested his head. "Yeah,
you're an idiot. But you're my idiot." 

 Fraser kissed him softly. "And you are mine." 

 END 

 </PRE>