Reports of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated	Reports of My
Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated by Iris Gray

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

  

 <PRE>
 Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me, I don't make any money from
this. Ratings: Slash, m/m, drama, romance. PG. Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
 Feedback: wy236@victoria.tc.ca 

 Reports Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated 

 

 Constable Benton Fraser looked around him in satisfaction. He was all
prepared for his trip up north. His 'unofficial' partner, Detective Ray
Kowalski, (currently undercover as Ray Vecchio) inspected the gear Fraser
had packed. "That's all you're taking?" asked Kowalski. 

 "Yes, Ray. I am going to be travelling mainly in a canoe, after all. I
won't have a lot of room for necessities, let alone luxuries." 

 *Not that he even believes in luxuries* Kowalski thought to himself.
"Well, Frase, have a good trip," was all he said out loud. Inwardly he
added, *I will miss you like hell.* "Where is it yer going, again?" 

 "I don't believe the area has a specific name, Ray. Just a series of
rivers near my father's cabin in the Territories. It empties into a lake
in a national park. It's a beautiful place," said Fraser. 

 *Nothing could be as beautiful as the man standing before right now*
thought Ray to himself. Then he wondered, *Gawd, when did I get so sappy?*
"Well, send me a postcard or somethin', " he said. 

 Fraser smiled. "I doubt I will be anywhere near a post office, Ray." He
turned to his wolf. "You're going to be staying with Ray while I'm gone.
You know you hate quarantine, so I'm not taking you with me. No, we've
already discussed this. You're staying with Ray. So behave yourself." He
turned and held out his hand to his partner. "Goodbye, Ray." 

 Ray took the proffered hand and held it a moment longer than was strictly
necessary. "See ya, Frase. Be careful." *I love you, Fraser.* 

 "I will be, Ray," said the Mountie. "And thank you kindly for looking
after Diefenbaker for me." As he walked out the door he turned for a brief
moment to look back at Ray, who was bent over his desk wrestling with some
paperwork. *I love you, Ray. I wonder if I will ever be able to tell you?*


 

 As he settled in for the flight to the Territories, Fraser pulled a small
notebook from his pocket. He'd gotten into the habit of keeping a journal
since his father's death. He'd only begun to really know his father from
reading the man's journals. He doubted there would be anyone to read *his*
journals when he passed on, but he found the act of recording his thoughts
to be relaxing. He didn't really have anyone to talk to- unless his
father's ghost counted as 'someone' - and writing was a way of organizing
his thoughts and feelings. He'd been doing that a lot lately, especially
since he met Ray Kowalski, especially since he realized he was /falling in
love/ with Ray Kowalski. He found himself addressing what he was writing
to Ray, saying what he had never dared to say out loud. 

 *Ray - 

 I wonder if you ever notice the way I look at you sometimes. You never
say anything if you do. Sometimes I think I catch you watching me, but I'm
sure that's just wishful thinking. Did you know that you remind me of a
cat? The way you move is so graceful; your long, lean body seems to almost
flow from one place to another. That is probably why you are such a good
dancer. When I saw you dance with Stella I couldn't help but wish that I
was the one you were dancing with, that I was the focus of your attention.
You don't seem to realize it, but you are beautiful, and I love to watch
you. I love /you./ It wasn't sudden. I don't know if I 'fell in love' with
you as much as I grew to love you. I only wish I knew how to tell you. * 

 He tucked the notebook into his duffel bag as the plane landed. 

 

 Ray shoved aside the papers he had been working on. Fraser had been gone
for three days. Three days that felt like a lifetime. He could barely
recall a time when the Mountie hadn't been around. Yes, he did have a life
of his own before he took over Ray Vecchio's, but it seemed like a distant
memory. Sometimes pieces of it intruded - the Botrelle Case, Stella - but
Fraser had been there and helped him through them. He'd taken this
assignment to get away from his own life. He'd taken over Vecchio's cases,
become part of Vecchio's family, and become Benton Fraser's partner.
Somehow the Canadian just seemed to always be there. No matter what he was
working on, Fraser became part of it. The Lieutenant didn't seem to mind.
He'd said Fraser was 'free to liase his head off.' However, the kind of
liason that Ray had been thinking of lately was probably not the kind
Welsh had in mind. 

 Hell with it. He wasn't going to get any more work done today. He walked
over to Frannie's desk. "Frannie," he announced, "how about you let your
brother buy you dinner tonight." 

 Frannie beamed. "Why thank you, Ray. That would be nice. Let me get my
things." 

 Ray and Francesca settled down to some massive plates of pasta. "So, Ray,
have you heard from Benton since he left?" asked Frannie. 

 Ray scowled. "Frannie, he's only been gone three days. And it's not like
he's in the immediate vicinity of a telephone or a mailbox." 

 "Geez, you're touchy! Anyone would think /you're/ the one that's in love
with him, not me." The look that crossed Ray's face at her words brought
her up short. "Ray! You /are/ in love with him, aren't you? Come on, spill
it. Tell your sister the whole sad story." 

 *Well, why not tell her,* thought Ray. Frannie at least understood what
it was like to have unrequited love for the Mountie. "Okay, Frannie, but
this stays between us. No one else can know, got it?" 

 "Cross my heart, Ray. Seal of the confessional. I won't tell a soul." 

 Ray was so relieved to finally be able to tell someone of his feelings
for his partner that he poured out everything in a rush. His stunned
surprise to see this amazingly gorgeous man was his new 'partner.' The
implicit trust Ben had shown him almost from the beginning. The time
Fraser had saved his life on the Henry Allen, and the time he- with some
assistance from Diefenbaker - had saved Ray from a mugger who was going to
kill him for his gun. Fraser giving him asylum at the Consulate and
proving him innocent of shooting Volpe, when he hadn't even been sure
himself that he was innocent. The undercurrent of electricity he sometimes
felt running between them, that he felt every time he touched the Mountie
- accidentally or on purpose. Everything that had made Ray fall in love
with Benton Fraser. 

 Frannie looked at him with empathy. "I know how it feels, Ray. He's
untouchable, isn't he? I could show up completely naked at his door - in
fact, I already /have/ shown up naked at his door - and all he would do is
be annoyingly polite and send me home to Ma." 

 "That must have been before he lived at the Consulate," said Ray. 

 "Well, yeah, I wouldn't try it now - it'd really piss off the Inspector
and would shock the hell out of Turnbull." 

 Ray laughed. It felt good to have someone to talk to. He'd never had a
sister before, and now he had two, Frannie and Maria. Well, they were
Vecchio's sisters, but he treated them as if they were his own. 

 He took Frannie home and stopped in to say hello to Mama Vecchio, who of
course loaded him down with enough food to feed an army, or in this case,
Diefenbaker, for a few days. He gave Mrs. Vecchio a hug and gave Frannie a
brotherly peck on the cheek, then headed home. 

 

 Fraser pulled his canoe up on shore and set about making camp for the
night. He smiled at the scenery around him. Even though he had adjusted to
life in the city, he lived for the few short weeks of vacation every year
when he could spend time in the wilderness that was his true home. He
wished he could have brought Diefenbaker with him. He wished he could have
brought Ray with him. *One day, Ray, I will bring you up here* he said to
himself. 

 After he had eaten, Fraser took out his journal. Again, his thoughts
turned to his partner. 

 *Ray: 

 I thought of you tonight as I prepared my camp. I would very much like to
show you this place. This is my world. You have allowed me to share your
world, and yet you have never seen mine. I imagine you sitting next to me
at the camp fire. I miss having you to talk to. I wish that I could hold
you in my arms and tell you what you mean to me. I wish - * 

 Fraser's journalling was abruptly interrupted. He heard something -
someone ? - moving about in the bush. An animal? Bear? Wolf? He didn't
think an animal would come this close to a campfire, especially with the
smell of a human all around. Most wild animals did not like to approach
humans. He put the journal back in his duffel bag and stood up. 

 A man stepped out of the trees. His hair was long and tangled, he had
many days' growth of beard on his face, and his clothing was torn and
ragged. Moonlight glinted off the barrel of the gun he held. "Hello,
neighbour," said the man. "I seem to be in a bit of a bind. You see, I
recently took a little walk away from federal prison, and I've been
bushwhacking along here in the hopes that the 'authorities' will not be
able to track me. But I'm afraid I lost my boat and my supplies in a
stretch of rough water. So I am going to borrow yours." 

 Fraser just nodded and kept his hands at his sides. 

 "Now normally,. I would have to kill you," the man said as he picked up
Fraser's duffel and started to move the canoe in to the water. "But seeing
as how we are in the middle of nowhere, and miles away from any police or
forest service, I think I will just let Mother Nature have her way with
you." He launched the canoe in to the river. 

 "I really do not think it is a good idea for you to attempt to travel the
river at night," said Fraser. "It is difficult to navigate when you don't
have enough light." 

 The stranger just laughed. "Nice meeting you, neighbour," he said.
"Thanks for the canoe." He paddled off downstream. 

 Fraser sat by the fire and assessed his situation. He still had his
bedroll and his food. He had stored his food in a tree a short distance
away so as not to attract predators to his camp. The duffel had contained
his wallet, a map, compass, clothing, toiletries and first aid supplies.
And his journal. *Well, I hope he finds my journal interesting reading*
thought Ben. *I just hope he doesn't come back and kill me if he reads it
and realizes I'm RCMP.* But he probably wouldn't have to worry about that.
He imagined the convict would be far downstream before he had any chance
to sit down and go through Ben's things. *Well, I guess when daylight
comes I will just have to start walking. If I follow the river I will
eventually come to the park, and there will be Park Service employees
there who will be able to help me out. However, I should not travel too
close to the river in case I run in to my 'friend' downstream.* 

 What he couldn't have known was that, after he had made it a few
kilometers downstream, the convict's luck had run out. He struck a rock.
The canoe shattered. He hit his head and was pulled under by the rapid
current. He never regained consciousness. Benton's duffel remained in the
wreckage, and was later found by the Forest Service, who happened to be
looking for the escaped convict. They didn't know that the man they were
looking for had drowned. They just found a wrecked canoe and some personal
items belonging to Benton Fraser, RCMP, liason with the Canadian Consulate
in Chicago, USA. 

 

 "Vecchio!" boomed Welsh's voice across the precinct. Ray groaned to
himself and headed for his lieutenant's office. Sometimes he wondered if
he would ever hear his own name again. 

 When he stepped in to the office, he was surprised to see Meg Thatcher,
Fraser's boss, the Ice Queen, standing there. "Close the door, Vecchio,"
said the lieutenant. He looked very serious. "Inspector Thatcher has some
news about Constable Fraser." 

 The Inspector was holding a brown paper package in her hands. "I received
this package along with a cable from the Canadian Forest Service in the
Northwest Territories. Apparently Constable Fraser's canoe struck a rock
in a rough stretch of water and broke up...they found his things in the
wreckage. They haven't found a - body- yet." She handed the package to
Ray. "These are his personal effects...the arrangements he made in the
event of his...death...state that you are to have them. You are also to
take care of his, er, wolf." 

 Ray took the package wordlessly. He couldn't quite seem to make his brain
work. Fraser was dead? He wanted Ray to have his stuff? Oh, sh*t, he must
have meant the *real* Vecchio to have them. Well, along with all the rest
of this undercover garbage he'd have to keep it until Vecchio came back.
He noticed the room was spinning. Funny, that. Why would the lieutenant's
office spin around? Ouch. His face was pressed up against something that
felt kind of like linoleum. Oh. The floor. He was on the floor. How'd he
get there? Must be something to do with the room spinning. Welsh should
really have maintenance check in to that. The office was defnitely /not/
supposed to spin. 

 Ray felt someone lift him to his feet. Lt. Welsh had his arms under Ray's
and was lifting him off the floor and on to a chair. The Inspector was
gone. Frannie was there with what looked like a first aid kit, probably to
tend to the cuts and bruises on his face caused when he impacted the
floor. He remembered the time Fraser had tended to some cuts on his face
with some concoction he claimed to have made from pregnant sea cows or
something. Fraser. Sh*t. The room threatened to move again. Frannie
grabbed him. "Ray! Ray! Don't faint again, Ray, please." Her eyes were red
and she had obviously been crying. Faint? He'd fainted. In front of the
Ice Queen, yet. Great. He probably wouldn't have anything to do with her
anymore though, if Fraser was...gone. 

 Fraser was gone. Ray had a million questions but didn't know where to
start. The Inspector wasn't there and he didn't feel like seeking her out
to ask a lot of morbid questions. And he didn't think he was up to seeing
the Consulate right now, seeing it without Fraser in it. Suddenly his life
seemed terribly bleak. Fraser had been the best part of this undercover
assignment. Life without Fraser in it didn't seem like much of a life at
all. 

 The lieutenant was speaking to him. "Sir?" Ray croaked in response. 

 "Detective, I want you to go home. Take a leave of absence for a few
days. If you need to talk to someone the department has therapists on call
24 hours a day." He handed Ray a card. Then he turned to Francesca. "Ms
Vecchio, take your brother home. I don't want him to drive. Don't worry
about coming back to work today. I think you could use a few days off
also." 

 Francesca nodded. She took Ray's arm and he got up. Moving on autopilot
he followed her through the precinct, only to be stopped by Detective
Huey. "Ray," said Huey. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened to Big Red.
Look, I know what it's like to lose a partner. If you want to talk about
it, I'm here." Ray muttered "Thanks" and kept following Frannie. 

 Once in the parking lot, Frannie turned to Ray and said, "Keys." He
handed them to her. She unlocked the passenger door of his GTO and
carefully settled Ray into the seat before getting in herself. As she
manuevered the car into traffic Ray realized they weren't going in the
direction of his apartment. "Where ya takin' me, Frannie?" he asked 

 "I'm taking you home with me, Ray. You need family right now - we both
do." 

 

 Fraser stood at the river's edge. He had made pretty good progress in
travelling on foot, but he still had a long trip ahead of him. He thought
of the time he and Ray Vecchio had fought their way through the forest -
with Ray carrying him, since he had been unable to walk - and made a raft
to carry them down river. Unfortunately, he didn't have an axe with him to
cut down trees, so he couldn't make a raft. He'd have to keep walking. Not
right now, though. It was getting dark and he was tired. 

 He missed his journal. He'd done a lot of thinking in the past few days.
He felt as if he'd been given a second chance - the canoe thief could have
killed him and didn't. He wasn't going to let the bush do him in, either.
He would make it back to Chicago. And when he did, he had something
important to tell Ray Kowalski. He wouldn't let anything stand in his way.
He didn't want to die without telling Ray how he felt. And he wouldn't. 

 Fraser set about making a fire for the night. Fortunately he'd kept his
matches in his pocket rather than in his bag. When he was finished he had
a small bite to eat - he had to ration his food - and unrolled his
bedroll. He wondered what it would be like to have Ray sharing that
bedroll with him. Hopefully he would get a chance to find out. He went to
sleep, dreaming about his partner. 

 

 Ray had finally persuaded Frannie to let him drive home. He'd promised to
call her when he arrived, and he had. Now he was alone. Alone with his
thoughts, with his grief. He was still in shock, really. He didn't feel
anything. He could not believe that Fraser was dead. The Inspector had
said there was no body; the forest service believed it had washed
downstream somewhere, and there was some question as to whether it would
ever be found. Ray would be in charge of making arrangements for a
memorial service. He'd done that once before when Fraser pretended to be
dead in order to infiltrate a funeral home being used as a front for a
crime ring. The 'funeral' had turned into a circus. He didn't want that to
happen again. He decided not to have any kind of service. Maybe if they
*did* find a body he would, but until then he would cling to the hope that
possibly, just possibly, Fraser was still alive out there in the
wilderness somewhere. 

 His eyes fell on the package of Fraser's belongings that the inspector
had given him. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened it. He'd seen
just about everything when he'd watched Fraser preparing for his trip, but
he hadn't seen the little notebook before. It was in surprisingly good
shape for having been in the water. Some of the pages were stuck together
but the writing inside was still readable. He wondered if he should be
reading it, then he noticed that some of the writing seemed to be
addressed to him. He flipped to the earliest mention of his name. It was
dated around the time he had first met Fraser. 

 'I have been spending some time with Ray Vecchio's substitute. He's very
different from his predecessor. But I like him. It wasn't his fault that
no one informed me of the sudden departure of Ray Vecchio or that Ray
Kowalski would be impersonating him.' 

 Ray smiled. Fraser 'liked' him. Diefenbaker approached and whined at him.
"Oh, hi, Dief. I don't know where your master is. I don't know when he's
coming back. I don't even know *if* he's coming back. But if he can, he
will." He put the journal aside. Diefenbaker needed to be walked. 

 When Ray returned from taking Diefenbaker for his constitutional, he
picked up the journal again. He wanted to see what else Fraser had to say
about him. Most of the earlier entries described cases they had worked on
together, with a few comments about something Ray had done that Fraser had
found particularly intriguing or, in some cases, irritating. He skimmed
through a few more pages and came upon an entry that stunned him. 

 'I think I am in love with Ray Kowalski.' 

 *Fraser is in love with me?* 

 He read a few more pages, finding the pieces that were addressed to him
specifically, the ones in which Fraser poured out his heart on the pages.
The jealousy the Mountie had felt in watching him with Stella. The fear
that he would not be able to prove Ray innocent of the Volpe shooting in
time to prevent him from going to jail. Ben's wish that Ray could have
accompanied him on his trip North. 

 *Fraser is in love with me.* 

 But was Fraser even alive? That was the question. What good did the
knowledge of Fraser's love do him if Fraser wasn't even alive? But he had
to be alive. That was all there was to it. There was no other possibility.
Ray walked over to the window and looked out into the night sky. 

 "If you're out there, Fraser, come back to me," he whispered. "I love
you." 

 A few days later, Ray was back at work. The Lieutenant hadn't been too
happy to see him back, but he'd explained that he needed his work to keep
him occupied, keep his mind off other things. Welsh had reluctantly
agreed. Then, one day after his return, Inspector Thatcher was back. Ray's
heart pounded. 

 With no preliminaries, Thatcher stated, "They've found a body." 

 "And...?" asked Ray. 

 "You are listed as Fraser's next-of-kin, detective. They want you to go
and identify it, tell them whether it is Constable Fraser or not." 

 He had to go to Canada? He had to go identify Fraser's body? NO! His mind
shouted. It couldn't be Fraser. He wouldn't believe it. But he would go.
If it *was* Fraser, Ray owed him this much. 

 Ray flew to Vancouver, and from there took a series of smaller and
smaller commuter planes until he arrived at a small Northern town with an
unpronounceable name. He was met by an officer from the nearest RCMP
detachment. Ray noted that the man's uniform was nothing like Fraser's. He
wore a light grey short-sleeved shirt, dark pants with a yellow stripe
down the side, and a cap, not a Stetson, with a yellow band around it and
an RCMP crest on the front. 

 The constable took Ray to a small hospital. There he was shown to a small
room where a sheet- covered body lay on a table. Ray took a deep breath
and removed the sheet. "It's not him," he said in relief. 

 "You're sure, detective?" asked the Mountie. 

 "Yes, I am sure. Don't you guys keep records of some sort on your people?
This is not Fraser." 

 "Very well. Thank you for your time, detective. Sorry you had to come all
the way up here." 

 *I'm not sorry in the least* thought Ray. *This could mean that Fraser is
still alive.* 

 He clung to that thought all the way back to Chicago. 

 

 Finally, after many days of walking, Fraser found himself in a park. And
where there was a park, there would be Park Service. However, they might
not be that easy to find. Yes, this was a National Park, but it was a very
*big* National Park. Fortunately, though, there were trails. No more
breaking trail as he went along. Eventually he would find someone. 

 By his count, he was already several days overdue to return from his
vacation. He hoped no one back in Chicago was worried about him. He
doubted it. No one worried about Benton Fraser. Inspector Thatcher would
be annoyed with him. Ray might wonder where he was. But no one would worry
about him. 

 Several more days went by before Benton found himself at the end of the
trail. To his surprise and pleasure he discovered there was a special bus
that picked up and dropped off people who wished to hike the trails in the
park. There were already a few people waiting in a small parking area, and
most of them looked as bad as Ben imagined he must. The bus would take him
directly to the airport if he wished. He would have liked to stop in the
village and get some clean clothes and maybe a shower and a shave, but he
had no money, just his plane tickets, which he hoped he could exchange for
new ones. Unfortunately, he had no idea how he would pay for bus fare. 

 He struck up a conversation with a young woman who was waiting for the
bus. He hated to do it, but he told her of his predicament - not about the
man who had stolen his canoe, though. He just said he'd 'had an accident'
which resulted in the 'loss' of his canoe, and all his things with it. The
young woman appeared to believe him - maybe he looked worse than he
thought. She spoke to some of her fellow travellers and soon she had
collected enough money for Fraser's bus fare and even something to eat at
the airport. Ben insisted she write down her name and a convenient mailing
address so that he could send her some money when he got back to Chicago. 

 Many, many hours and several plane rides later, Benton was finally back
in Chicago. Only now that he was here, what could he do? He couldn't call
a taxi. He didn't even have any change for a telephone. More walking.
Where to? The Consulate seemed a logical choice, but he did not really
want to show up there looking the way he did. He'd washed himself up in
the washroom of the airport, but he really did look frightful. Ray. He
would go to Ray's. 

 

 Ray woke with a start. He'd fallen asleep on the couch, probably from
sheer exhaustion. He hadn't been sleeping well ever since the day the
Inspector had told him Fraser was dead. Missing. Fraser was missing, that
was all. He refused to believe otherwise. He glanced at the television and
switched channels around until he found one that told him the time. Four
a.m. What had woken him? Then he heard it. A knock on the door. Who the
hell would be knocking on his door at four in the morning? He went to the
door and looked through the peephole. Fraser - a dirty, disheveled Fraser,
but still definitely Fraser - was standing in the hallway. Ray flung the
door open. "Fraser!" 

 "Hello, Ray," said Fraser, and fainted. Ray caught him and lowered him to
the floor. He would have liked to carry him to the couch or a chair, but
Fraser was a bit heavy for him to carry. Ray also wasn't certain if Fraser
was injured in some way, and lifting and carrying him might make it worse.
He grabbed a pillow from the couch and sat on the floor with it in his
lap, then raised Fraser's head and placed it on the pillow. 

 Fraser opened his eyes and looked up in to the face of Ray Kowalski.
Where was he? He thought for a moment, and remembered. He'd walked from
the airport to Ray's apartment, almost dragging himself for the final few
blocks. When Ray had opened the door, he had collapsed. Now he seemed to
be lying on the floor, but his head was on a pillow. A pillow in Ray's
lap? That was an interesting scenario. "Hey, Frase," said Ray with a
smile. "Where ya been all this time?" 

 "In Canada, Ray," said Fraser. 

 "Well they musta put you through the wringer while you were there,
because you don't look too good, besides the fact that you're two weeks
late getting back from yer vacation." 

 "Things did not go exactly as planned. My canoe was stolen, and most of
my possesions, and I had to walk a few hundred kilometers to find help." 

 *Well, that explains the wrecked canoe and finding his stuff in the
river.* thought Ray. "Can ya get up, Frase?" he asked. 

 "I think so, Ray," the Canadian replied. He slowly got to his feet, with
Ray supporting him from one side. 

 "Now then," said Kowalski. "I think you need a shower. Actually, make
that a bath, I don't want ya falling and hitting yer head or anything." He
helped Fraser into the bathroom where he ran a hot bath, then stripped off
the Mountie's clothes. *I've fantasized about taking his clothes off for
months* Ray thought to himself *but not quite like this.* He helped his
friend into the tub then sat on the toilet to keep an eye on him, in case
he passed out again and slipped under the water. "You okay, Ben?" he
asked, unconsciously using his partner's first name. "You need anything?" 

 "I'll be fine, Ray," Benton answered. "Thank you kindly." He was
surprised to hear Ray call him "Ben." Ray had always called him "Fraser"
or occasionally "Frase." He really wanted to talk to Ray, to tell him
everything, but at the moment he was simply too tired. 

 When Fraser was finished with his bath, Ray drained the tub. "I'll go get
you a robe, " he said. "Stay here." He called Diefenbaker. "Look Dief, yer
master's back. Keep an eye on him for me, willya?" 

 When Ray returned, Fraser had dried himself off and was talking to
Diefenbaker. Ray briefly allowed himself to admire Ben's body before
handing him the robe. "Here ya go," he said. "Now, how about some food? I
bet yer hungry." 

 "Yes," said Fraser. "I haven't had much to eat in the last few days. But
you don't have to go to all this trouble - " 

 "Fraser. What are friends for? Come on and sit down, and I'll get you
some of Mama Vecchio's pasta." 

 Fraser did as Ray instructed, and soon Ray had microwaved a small plate
of pasta for him. "Not too much right away, Frase, or yer stomach won't be
able to handle it. Don't want ya to get sick - well, any more sick than ya
are already." 

 "Thank you kindly, Ray." 

 As Fraser ate, Ray contemplated sleeping arrangements. "You can have my
bed tonight, and I'll sleep on the couch. And don't even *think* about
going to work tomorrow. Or today, sh*t, I guess it is 'today' already." 

 "You don't have to give up your bed, Ray. I can sleep on the couch.
Actually, I have my bedroll with me." 

 "Fraser, you slept in that bedroll for a month in the bush. You will
sleep in my bed tonight." *Oops, that sounded a little more suggestive
than I would have liked.* 

 Benton was too tired to argue with his partner. "Very well, Ray. But you
still don't have to sleep on the couch. We can share your bed. I would -
appreciate the company." 

 Even knowing how Fraser felt about him, Ray was surprised at the
forwardness of the Mountie's request. He reminded himself that Fraser
didn't know Ray had read his journal, and Ray wasn't planning to tell him.
"Okay, I will ... keep you company. But don't start tellin' me any Inuit
stories or anything. You need to sleep before you pass out again." 

 "Understood, Ray." Ben got up and swayed a little. Ray was at his side in
an instant, putting an arm around his waist. He had to admit that he liked
the feel of Ray's arm around him. Maybe he should tell him that sometime.
Not now, though. He let Ray lead him to the bedroom and put him to bed. He
was asleep almost immediately. 

 Ray slipped out of his clothes and got in to bed beside Fraser. He
briefly allowed himself to think of the erotic possibilities of the
situation, then clamped down on those thoughts. Even if Fraser wasn't
actually injured, he was half-dead from exhaustion. There was no way Ray
would take advantage of him. He needed to have a long discussion with his
partner, but there would be time enough for that when Ben was feeling
better. He looked over at Ben: the Mountie was dead to the world. Ouch.
*No using the word 'dead' in referring to Fraser.* Without allowing
himself to think about what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around his
friend and fell asleep. 

 Ray awoke early the next afternoon, still wrapped around Fraser. He
smiled to himself as he carefully got out of bed to avoid waking his
partner. He hadn't had any nightmares for the first time in weeks. Fraser
was better than a dream catcher for chasing away bad dreams. He pulled on
some clothes and went to make breakfast. On his way to the kitchen he
stopped in the living room and carefully placed Fraser's journal back in
the duffel bag. He didn't want Ben to know he'd read his private thoughts.
He felt a bit guilty for having read the notebook, but at the time he
hadn't even known for certain that Fraser was alive. On that subject, he
supposed he should phone the Ice Queen and inform her of her liason
officer's return. He didn't want Fraser showing up at the Consulate and
giving her heart failure. Assuming she had a heart. The way he'd seen her
treat Fraser made him wonder about that sometimes. 

 He dialed the Consulate's number from memory, and after a brief argument
with Turnbull, was put through to the Inspector. "What can I do for you,
Detective?" asked Thatcher. 

 "Um, are you sitting down, Inspector?" 

 Meg Thatcher wondered what kind of game Detective Vecchio was playing.
She had no idea why her liason officer had spent so much time with him, or
with the other man who had carried that name, as she had found both of
them to be extremely irritating people, about par for the course when it
came to Americans, in her experience. Though, to their credit, both of
them genuinely seemed to care about Constable Fraser. Then again, she had
frequently found Fraser irritating, too. "Yes, Detective, I am seated.
What is it? Is it something to do with Constable Fraser?" 

 "Uh, yes, Inspector. He's back." 

 "What on earth are you talking about, Detective? I don't have time for
games." 

 "No, uh, ma'am, I mean Fraser's not dead. He wasn't in that canoe when it
smashed up. He's here, in Chicago, in my apartment." 

 Meg stared at the telephone in astonishment. Fraser was alive? "Let me
speak to him, Detective." 

 "No, you can't do that, he's asleep. He was in pretty rough shape when he
arrived last night. He's spent the last month or so hiking through the
bush, and he walked to my place from the airport. He's exhausted, and he's
probably also half-starved and dehydrated. I'll get him to call you when
he feels up to it, okay? Bye." Ray quickly put the phone down before
Thatcher could argue with him. Then he put a CD in the stereo and went
back to making breakfast. 

 

 Fraser woke to find himself alone in bed. Had it only been a dream that
Ray was holding him last night? He had woken a few times and felt Ray's
arms around him. It had seemed quite real, but he had been exhausted. And
now he was hungry. He heard jazz coming from the stereo and thought he
heard Ray moving around. He got out of bed and put a robe on. After
freshening up in the washroom, he went in to the kitchen. 

 "Morning, Frase," said Ray with a smile. "Or, I guess, afternoon.
Hungry?" 

 "Very." 

 "Well, I ain't a gourmet cook, but I made some bacon and eggs for ya." He
put a plate down in front of Fraser and sure enough it contained bacon,
eggs and toast. Ray then set a mug of tea down next to the plate. "Thank
you kindly, Ray," said Fraser. He felt slightly stunned. Certainly, Ray
was his friend, but he hadn't expected this kind of 'royal' treatment from
him. He was feeling positively pampered. 

 Ray sat down with his own plate of food and a cup of coffee. "Listen,
Ben, ya need to know something. Remember ya told me yer canoe got stolen?
Well, someone found it all smashed to bits in the river. Yer stuff was in
it, and everyone assumed that you'd been - " he hesitated - "killed.
Actually, I think the Canadian goverment had you declared dead. The Ice -
er, Inspector, told me because I'm, well, Vecchio is, your next of kin."
He took a deep breath, then continued. "But I didn't believe it. They
didn't have a body. You know yer way around in the bush. They did find a
body in the river, and I had to fly up to Canada to tell them it wasn't
you." 

 "Oh, dear. I must phone the Inspector and tell her - " 

 "No, Fraser, I already took care of that. I told her you weren't dead. I
told her that you were in kind of rough shape and that you weren't up to
talking at the moment, and you'd call her when you felt better." 

 "I do feel better now, Ray," Fraser argued. 

 Ray sighed. "Well, if ya want to call her, the phone's right there. Go
ahead." 

 Fraser went to the phone and Ray busied himself cleaning up the dishes.
When Fraser returned, Ray asked, "So, how did the Inspector react to your
return from the Great Beyond?" 

 "Great Beyond what?" asked Fraser, sounding puzzled. Ray grinned. "Figure
of speech, Ben, referring to wherever people go when they die. What did
your boss have to say?' 

 "She was rather surprised to hear from me, but appreciated my contacting
her so quickly. She gave me a week's sick leave to regain my strength." 

 "How generous of her," said Ray sarcastically. "I'm going to call Lt
Welsh and tell him you're back and that I'm taking some time off 'till
you're better, then we should see about finding you some clothes. I have
your bag that you lost when that guy wrecked your canoe - there's some
clothes in there. I'll throw them in the laundry and they should be okay."


 "Ray, you don't have to take any time off work to look after me. I can
take care of myself." 

 "Fraser, you collapsed in my doorway less than twelve hours ago. You've
had some rest and some food, but you're still weak. I have some leave time
saved up. I wasn't planning on using it to take care of a sick Mountie,
but I'd rather use it for that than for planning your funeral. Now, if you
don't want to stay here with me, I can take you to the Vecchios and let Ma
and Frannie look after you." 

 Ben smiled and raised his hands. "I surrender," he said. Then he turned
serious again. "Ray, why are you doing all this for me?" 

 Ray hesitated. This was the opening he'd been looking for. It was now or
never. He took the plunge. "Ben," he said, deliberately using his friend's
first name. "You're my partner. And you're my friend. And you're so much
more to me than just my partner or my friend. I love you, Fraser." 

 Fraser looked pleased and stunned at the same time. He gulped a couple of
times and smiled. Then he said, very softly, "I love you too, Ray." He
stepped forward and very gently kissed his partner. Ray returned the kiss,
wrapping his arms around Fraser and holding him tightly. Fraser noticed
tears in Ray's eyes. He lifted Ray's face to look directly at him. 

 "Ray, what's wrong? I just told you I love you - why are you crying?" 

 "Fraser - Ben - I was so afraid that you were gone for good.. They told
me you were dead. I didn't want to believe it, I tried not to believe it.
But you were gone for so long. I was afraid you were never coming back. " 

 "But I'm here now, Ray. And I'm not going anywhere." He held Ray and
kissed him again. 

 "I have a confession to make," Ray announced suddenly. 

 "What is that?" asked Ben. 

 "I read your journal," Ray answered. "I shouldn't have, it was an
invasion of your privacy, but I wanted to get to know you and understand
you better. And when I thought you were dead, it was all I had left of
you." 

 "I understand, Ray. I'm not upset. Actually, I'm flattered that you care
enough about me to /want/ to get to know me ." 

 Ray grinned. "Oh, I definitely want to get to know ya. I want to get to
know ya /intimately/. But I think that will have to wait until you're a
bit stronger." 

 "I agree," said Fraser a bit sadly. Then he smiled. "You know, I am still
rather tired. Perhaps I should go back to bed." 

 "Oh, you definitely should do that, Ben," said Ray. "You need your rest.
Actually, I haven't been sleeping well lately. I think I should go back to
bed too. D'you mind sharing the bed?" 

 "Not in the least, Ray," said Ben. "Not in the least." 

 </PRE>