The Way We Weren't	  Late one night recently when I couldn't sleep, I
sat up and watched 'The Way We Were' for the first time - old romantic
that I am. The final scene inspired this story. The rest of it came out of
my interest in exploring what would happen when the boy didn't get the boy
in the end. My inspiration for a partner for Ray (kudos to anyone who
recognises him - and his clothes) was inspired by a particular shot in the
second episode in series two of Twitch City (if you want to know which
shot, ask me) and fuelled by images created by my fevered mind after
reading Hard Core Road Show by Noel S Baker.
 
 Comments welcome at mullum@tig.com.au
 
 
 
 The Way We Weren't
 
 by Carol Trendall
 
 
 Toronto, November 2007
 
 The big Bell Jet Ranger held so steady that Benton Fraser could not say
for sure if the skids had touched the ground. He turned questioning eyes
to the pilot, then touched his right foot to the talk button on the floor
before speaking into the microphone attached to his headphones.
 
 "Have we landed?"
 
 The pilot said nothing, just flashed him a toothy grin and reached for
the ignition switch. Still grinning at Fraser he flicked it off, letting
the engine whine to a stop, the great blades slowly spinning down. He
pulled his headphones off and hung them in place on the console before
speaking.
 
 "What are you waiting for, Ben," he grinned as he opened his door and
slid from the chopper, "we landed ages ago."
 
 Fraser shook his head affectionately and smiled. This was a game they had
played many times before. Eli Greycloud was the best helicopter pilot in
the south east of Canada and he loved to tease his passengers this way. It
was sometimes infuriating, but always in a way that managed to endear him
to every one he encountered. When they first met seven years earlier,
Fraser had been instantly reminded of another, equally infuriating person
who had once shared his life, but he had long since ceased wondering if
that was the reason for his attraction to this cheeky Cree. Still shaking
his head, he pulled off his own headphones and followed Eli onto the
snow-covered tarmac.
 
 He rounded the front of the Jet Ranger in time to see Eli haul his pack
from the back seat and drop it on the ground in front of him, his long
black hair spilling over his shoulders as he moved. For a moment Fraser
considered tossing it back into the chopper and demanding Eli take him
home again. But his sense of duty would not allow it. He sighed, his
breath misting in the cold winter air. He had to do this. Only when it was
done would he let Eli take him back to the beautiful, frigid mountains
where they had made their home. 
 
 "Eli ..." he began, a wave of emotion choking off anything he would have
said.
 
 Eli straightened and tossed his hair back over his shoulders, then moved
towards Fraser. "I can stay, Ben," he said gently, touching a hand to the
Mountie's arm and sliding it down until he held his gloved fingers. "You
know I don't like the thought of you dealing with all this on your own."
 
 Fraser's leather clad fingers curled around Eli's bare hand and drew him
closer. His voice was gentle but spoke of old pain. "We talked about this
already. I have to do it on my own. " He squeezed Eli's hand. "I have to
deal with these ... demons ... before we can go on with the rest of our
lives."
 
 Eli smiled sadly and sighed before speaking. "I know. I just … worry …
This is such a big thing and after all these years … ah, Ben …" His arms
moved up to enfold the other man.
 
 Fraser let Eli gather him into his arms and hold him, rocking him
slightly. The comfort was welcome. Ever since he had received the call
summoning him to Toronto he had dreaded this day. Despite his best efforts
over the past two weeks, now that the day was here he was not sure that he
was at all prepared for it.
 
 Ever since he learned that Victoria Metcalfe had been arrested for jewel
theft in Toronto, his feelings had been a confused mess. He had heard
nothing of her since the night she was borne away on a train, leaving him
bleeding on a Chicago railway platform, shattered more by her betrayal
than the bullet that had stopped him going with her. That Victoria was
finally in custody did not surprise nor concern him in itself. In fact, it
was a relief. The chain of events that had been set in motion when she
appeared unexpectedly in Chicago had hung over him ever since, a sense of
non-completion niggling at parts of his life for more than ten years. 
 
 It had taken several years for the pain of Victoria's betrayal to abate -
several years before Fraser had been able to allow himself to love again.
When love did finally come it tore away the few remaining threads that
still tied him to Victoria Metcalfe - threads that had been present since
their first encounter on a snow-blown mountainside almost twenty years
before. Ironically that new love, too, had bloomed in the midst of a snow
storm on the side of a mountain, an unexpected but welcome addition to his
quest for the hand of Franklin.
 
 There was more to Fraser's trepidation than a fear of seeing Victoria
again. He was nervous about seeing his former partner again. When he had
learned that Ray Vecchio, too, was called to give evidence he panicked.
Although he and Ray had made peace with each other and with the havoc
wreaked by Victoria, it remained there between them, never to be spoken
of. At least now they would have the chance to finally lay it to rest. But
what of Fraser's feelings for Ray? 
 
 After Ray's disappearance into the world of undercover work with barely a
word, Fraser had promised himself that when he had the chance he would
tell his friend of his feelings for him. Sadly, when the time came there
were too many other factors - criminals to apprehend and scores to be
settled. Then Ray took up with Stella Kowalski and there was little point
in Fraser baring his soul. It had remained untold. Only one person knew
his secret. 
 
 "You were in love with both of them, Ben." Eli whispered a little later,
his hand and stroking Fraser's back through the layers of wool and
flannel. "They both meant something to you at one time. This can't be
easy."
 
 Fraser shuddered and tightened his arms around his lover, wondering anew
when he would stop being surprised by this wonderful man. Although five
years his junior, Eli was wise in ways beyond his years and understanding
in a way that bordered on psychic. In the seven years they had been
together they had shared much and Eli gave him succour in his darkest
moments, loving him unreservedly and unashamedly. 
 
 In the fledgling days of their relationship as they stuttered and
stumbled towards what they now had, Fraser had confessed every intimate
detail of his life to Eli. He hid nothing when he told of his first
meeting with Victoria and the near betrayal of his duty. He was equally
candid about her re-entry to his life and the damage she caused to both he
and Ray. Eli was the only person to whom he had confessed his long abiding
love for Ray Vecchio and his lover had accepted the information without
judgement. Eli knew also of the many months Fraser had spent searching for
the hand of Franklin with Ray Kowalski and knew the details of how two
equally damaged and emotionally insecure men had come together, finding
comfort where they had not thought to seek it before.
 
 "Yes, I was," Fraser answered eventually, drawing away and gazing into
Eli's warm brown eyes. "Which is why I need to do this alone. After this I
can officially mark that part of my life 'case closed' and get on with
loving you the way you deserve."
 
 Eli smiled and ruffled Fraser's hair. "You already love me enough."
 
 Fraser let him slip away, waiting while Eli pulled a suitbag from the
rear of the helicopter. He handed it over and Fraser took it silently,
testing the weight of his dress reds with his right hand. It had been
years since he had worn them. There was little need for them in the small
town of Moose Factory where he and Eli had made their home six years ago.
Even now, they weren't strictly required for this court appearance, but a
tendril of nostalgia had wormed its way into his heart and he wanted to
wear them when he saw Ray. Just like old times. 
 
 Collecting Fraser's pack from the snow, Eli helped him slip it onto his
shoulders and then stepped away.
 
 "I'll go then, Ben. I'll be back tomorrow evening to pick you up."
 
 "Thank you, Eli," he said a little breathlessly, then reached forward to
curl his left around Eli's head, drawing him in for a tender kiss. "I love
you," he whispered against Eli's cheek, clutching a hank of thick black
hair in his hand.
 
 "I know you do," Eli said, pulling Fraser's hand away and kissing the
palm, through layers of leather and wool. "And I love you."
 
 The two men stepped away from each other and Fraser strode across the
tarmac, listening as Eli's Jet Ranger whined to life again.
 
 
 It had been some years since Fraser had been in Toronto, but he found his
way to the Four Seasons Hotel without any difficulty. The facade was
imposing and the red-coated doorman intimidating as he waved Fraser inside
with gold trimmed gloves. Aware that his worn denim and flannel was out of
place in such a hotel, he made his way to the reception desk, cringing at
the thought of Canadian and US government funds being spent on such an
expensive hotel. There had been no option. When Victoria was apprehended,
hasty arrangements were made between the RCMP and the US Marshals and a
Toronto court date set. It was no-one's fault that Victoria's court case
coincided with the Toronto Film Festival and the only rooms available were
in five star hotels.
 
 Once Fraser was checked into his room he changed quickly into his red
serge, pleased to find it still fit perfectly. Standing in front of a
full-length mirror, he straightened his lanyard and resettled his Sam
Browne and he was instantly comfortable, although he still thought the
hotel far too opulent for an overnight stay. But there was no time for
worrying about that, he was due soon at a briefing with the RCMP lawyers.
Taking a deep breath, he gave a final, cursory glance at his reflection,
squared his shoulders and then headed off to deal with his past.
 
 Fraser expected Ray to have checked in by the time he returned. He would
leave a note at the desk in the hope that his old friend could meet with
him that evening. Fraser had not seen Ray since the other man had headed
south with Stella and he had headed north with Kowalski on their quest for
the hand of Franklin. Ray and Fraser kept in touch, exchanging letters and
Christmas cards and even they occasional photograph. Ray and Stella still
lived in Florida, their bowling alley doing surprisingly good business.
Their three children were all at school now and Fraser had spoken to all
three of them one time when Ray had called to tell him of his mother's
death. 
 
 He had long since come to terms with his feelings for Ray Vecchio, helped
in part by his short, but nonetheless sweet liaison with Stanley Raymond
Kowalski during their quest and then later eased to an infrequent thought
by the completion and contentment he had found with Eli Greycloud. But
still the prospect of actually seeing Ray after all this time did not sit
easy with him.
 
 The fact that it was Victoria Metcalfe who had brought them to this point
was an important factor. He and Ray had rarely spoken about what had
transpired after her appearance in their lives and they had never
discussed Fraser's feelings for her. Although anything he and the
dark-hearted beauty had shared was long gone, the thought of seeing her,
being in the same room with her, filled him with something approaching
real fear.
 
 In the weeks after he learned of her arrest and his required appearance
in Toronto for the courtcase, Fraser went over every aspect of his time
with Victoria, examining it from all angles and finally accepting that he
would deal with his feelings on the day. He prepared himself as best he
could.
 
 With these thoughts in his head, he made his way through the hotel, ready
to face whatever the day's events could deal him. Holding the lobby door
open for a stern woman in a business suit, Fraser tipped his hat and
waited until she passed, before stepping out into the cold Toronto air. At
the top of the stairs he took a deep breath, satisfied that he was in
control. I am a Mountie, he told himself.
 
 From out of nowhere, the concierge appeared and suddenly pushed past him,
racing down the wide stone steps towards a black limousine. Frowning at
the man's rudeness and paying scant attention to the growing crowd of
people at the foot of the stairs, Fraser began the short journey down the
steps only to be stopped suddenly in his tracks as a familiar head emerged
from the long black car.
 
 He realised suddenly that he had not prepared himself for every
eventuality.
 
 "Ray." 
 
 The word escaped his lips before he could stop it. Some remote part of
his brain registered that it sounded like a benediction.
 
 
 &&&
 
 Toronto in winter. 
 
 Ray shuddered, pulling his overcoat closer around his throat. He didn't
know why, it wasn't cold. The heating in the long black limousine was so
high that his companion had stripped off layers and now sat with sleeves
rolled up.
 
 "You OK, Ray?" Warm dark eyes twinkled at him from the opposite side of
the too large vehicle.
 
 "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, squeezing the hand that snaked across the
pale chamois seat between them, before turning to look at the slick city
streets as they whipped by. "I was just thinking about the last time I was
in Toronto." 
 
 The last time he had been in Toronto was with Benton Fraser - but that
was so long ago - more than ten years now. His thoughts drifted away as a
bark of childish laughter erupted from his companion on the other side of
the cavernous interior.
 
 "But I bet you weren't picked up in a fancy black limo!" This time the
laughter was almost a giggle.
 
 A smile pulled at the corners of Ray's mouth and he turned to look into
liquid brown eyes that twinkled with delight at the novelty to which they
had been treated. "Yeah, well, last time I was here I wasn't travelling
with a *'Big Star'*." Leaning across the butter coloured leather, he
pressed a quick kiss to the laughing mouth of his lover.
 
 "Yeah, that's right," his companion joked, self-deprecation in his voice.
"Dan McKillop, director extraordinaire. Watch out Spielberg."
 
 Ray reached for Dan's hand and held it between his two, turning slightly
in his seat. "You're a good director, Dan. I don't know shit about movies
and stuff, but the Toronto Film Festival invited you to show your film
*and* talk about it." His voice lowered to almost a whisper. "You gotta be
doing *something* right."
 
 Dan smiled shyly. "I guess you're right." He flopped back against the
seat and stared at the ceiling. "I still can't believe people like what I
do. I mean *I* like it, but I don't really expect other people to, not to
mention paying me lots of money for the privilege." Sitting forward again,
he gestured at the vehicle they travelled in. "And to pick us up in a limo
… it's … it's amazing." He shook his head and stared into the middle
distance. "Well … fuck me …" Dan's voice trailed off in wonder.
 
 Ray reached for him again and whispered hotly into his ear. "I just might
later."
 
 Dan laughed, but anything he would have said was lost as their
chauffeur's voice sounded through the intercom.
 
 "We're approaching the Four Seasons Hotel, Mr McKillop."
 
 
 &&&
 
 
 Fraser watched in rapt fascination as the familiar form of Stanley
Raymond Kowalski emerged from the depths of a long black limousine. There
could be no mistaking him. His hair might be a little less blonde and a
little less spiky and his dress sense may have matured, but he still moved
with the same catlike grace that had always set Fraser's heart pounding.
As it did now. Even after ten years.
 
 It took a moment for him to register that most of the people in the crowd
around the vehicle carried cameras and tape recorders. Voices rang out
from the throng, but he couldn't make out the words. Eventually, one
carried to him, louder than the others.
 
 "Mr McKillop, how does it feel to have your first feature film meet such
favour?"
 
 It was only then that Fraser noticed Ray's companion. Shorter than Ray,
with thick black hair and a five o'clock shadow he was dressed simply in
jeans and an oversized golden yellow sweater. He smiled shyly as he
answered the reporter's questions, glancing at Ray from time to time. The
pride in the smile Ray returned was obvious, even from a distance. There
was no mistaking it, they were lovers. Fraser was rooted to the spot.
 
 He watched while Ray's companion answered questions. When the reporters
had their fill, they thanked him for his time and moved away. With the
space between them suddenly clear, it only took a moment for Ray's eyes to
register the flash of red at the top of the stairs. Fraser felt heat rise
up his body as Ray's eyes lifted and eventually met his.
 
 Then suddenly he was climbing the stairs, taking them two at a time,
stopping in front of Fraser with wide eyes. The two men flowed into a hug
without realising they were doing it, holding each other for long moments.
Fraser pulled back eventually, clutching Ray's upper arms as he cast his
eyes over his friend, nodding approval at the slight changes in his dress
style. Gone was the scruffy, torn denim, replaced by new, neat jeans. The
dull, misshapen t-shirts he favoured had been replaced with a fine black
wool zip neck sweater. A charcoal coloured cashmere overcoat completed the
elegant look, providing a perfect contrast to the slightly spiky dark
blonde hair now shot with strands of silver.
 
 "You look … good … Ray," Fraser said, finally releasing his grip.
 
 Ray scrubbed a hand through his hair and beamed up at the Mountie. "Jeez,
Fraser, it's great to see you."
 
 The two men held each others gaze for long, silent moments and then
Fraser's eyes shifted abruptly to a movement on the stairs behind Ray.
Alerted by his lover's nearness long before Fraser's eyes slipped away,
Ray turned, flashing a warm smile at Dan. 
 
 He motioned for Dan to come closer, excitement making his eyes glitter.
"Dan, this is an old friend of mine." He turned to introduce them, but
Fraser was already extending his hand.
 
 "Sergeant Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police."
 
 Dan smiled warmly and shook the proffered hand. "Dan McKillop."
 
 "Sergeant?" Ray interrupted, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.
"When did that happen?"
 
 "Two years ago. One of the Sergeants retired and as no-one wanted to take
up a post in Moose Factory, they offered me a promotion."
 
 "That's great, man." Ray's eyes showed his sincerity. He turned again to
Dan. "Fraser and I used to work together."
 
 Dan's eyes widened. "You and a Mountie? Where?"
 
 "In Chicago," Fraser explained. "You see, many years ago I went to
Chicago on the trail of my father's killers and … "
 
 "He worked at the Canadian Consulate," Ray finished for him, "and we
sorta got stuck working together."
 
 "Wow." Dan's eyes lit up. "That's a great idea for a script, don't you
think? A Mountie stuck in Chicago. Think of the story lines."
 
 Ray shook his head affectionately and nudged Dan with his elbow. "Dan's a
movie director. He thinks everything makes a good script."
 
 Fraser indicated the press at the foot of the stairs, now pestering
another arrival in a limousine. "I saw the attention you received. I
assume you're here for the Film Festival."
 
 Dan blushed slightly. "Yeah, they asked me to come and talk about my
film."
 
 "You should come, Fraser. It's really great. Are you staying in Toronto
long?"
 
 "Until tomorrow evening. I'm testifying at a courtcase. You remember
Victoria Metcalfe?"
 
 Ray frowned, then nodded. "She's that woman … up on the mountain … the
one you …"
 
 "Arrested?" Fraser suggested.
 
 "Yeah, arrested."
 
 No one spoke for a moment. Fraser straightened slightly, remembering the
reason for his presence in Toronto.
 
 "Ah, well, I guess I should be going. I'm expected at the RCMP office for
a briefing." He tipped his hat at Dan. "It was very nice meeting you. Good
luck with your film."
 
 "Hey, listen, we're meeting a few people for drinks in the bar tonight.
Why don't you join us?"
 
 Ray grabbed his arm. "Yeah, Fraser. What do you say?"
 
 Fraser stared into Ray's eyes and nodded. He could deny him nothing.
"Perhaps I will." Filled with a sudden need to be away from this reminder
of his past, he muttered his goodbyes and dashed down the stairs, leaving
Ray and Dan staring after him.
 
 On the street he could breathe again. His reaction to seeing Ray so
unexpectedly had sent him reeling. On the other side of the street a woman
with a child in a pram provided the perfect distraction. She had just
crossed the street and was having difficulty lifting her pram onto the
sidewalk, her restless child unsettling a pile of packages on top. As soon
as Fraser saw the child in danger of tipping over, he dashed across the
street, heedless of the traffic. He reached the woman's side in time to
stop the baby from toppling into the snow, gathering the parcels in one
hand and steadying the walker in the other.
 
 The woman thanked him profusely, taking her parcels from him as he
righted the pram and set it on the cleared path. He settled the child into
his seat once again, bid the woman a good day and then turned to continue
his journey to the RCMP office.
 
 "You don't change, do you?"
 
 Fraser spun on his heels to find Ray standing on the sidewalk next to
him, hands tucked deeply into his coat pockets.
 
 "I can't change, Ray." Fraser looked across the street, but could see no
sign of Dan. He stopped closer. "That was always the problem between us."
 
 Ray smiled sadly and looked down at his feet, his expensive boots now
covered in snow. He kicked at them before answering. "Yeah, it was, wasn't
it?" 
 
 Lifting his stetson from his head, Fraser's sad smile matched Ray's. "I
think about you from time to time."
 
 Ray nodded and looked off into the distance behind Fraser. "Are you still
with that Indian?"
 
 "Eli? Yes." He looked at his hands as they twisted the brim of his hat.
"And the preferred term in Native American, although Eli is actually
Canadian and that technically makes him a Native Canadian, but then I
don't think …" He looked up and met Ray's steely blue eyes. "That's what
you hated about me, isn't it?"
 
 "I never hated you, Fraser." He lifted one hand and briefly squeezed
Fraser's around the brim of his hat. "Is he good to you?"
 
 "Ray …"
 
 "Yeah, of course he's good to you. People are always good to you. They
can't be anything else." Ray looked into the distance again. "Are you
happy?"
 
 "Yes, Ray. Very happy." His voice lowered to a barely audible whisper. "I
love him."
 
 Ray pursed his lips and nodded, still looking away.
 
 "What about you? Dan seems very nice."
 
 Ray made an amused snort. "He'd hate to hear you call him 'nice'." He met
Fraser's eyes again. "Dan's just … great … he makes me …" His voice
trailed off.
 
 "I know, I could see." There was a hint of regret in his voice. "How long
have you been together?"
 
 "Bit more than a year." Ray laughed suddenly, his eyes twinkling with
some memory. "It was Frannie who introduced us. She was dating some actor
guy who knows Dan and I went to a party with them and well … you know how
it goes …"
 
 Fraser gave a smile that said he didn't know how it went, but he
understood anyway.
 
 "So do you think …? I mean … is this …?" He wanted to ask if Dan was 'the
one' but thought suddenly that it sounded trite.
 
 Tilting his head to hide his embarrassment, Ray smiled shyly. "Yeah, I
think so." Kicking at a pile of snow he said softly. "But I still think
about you, you know."
 
 Fraser nodded. He knew.
 
 "I mean, I think how we were back then and how we could have been."
 
 Fraser thought about his own experience and what had passed since Ray had
left him in Tuktoyaktuk all those years ago. What he and Ray had shared
back then was so very different to what he now had with Eli and he
acknowledged, with some sadness, that he had never caused a smile like the
one Ray gave when he looked at Dan. Fraser knew there was a gaping,
yawning difference between what they both seemed to have found now and
what they had shared in the past.
 
 Fraser smiled sadly and fidgeted with his stetson. "That was the way we
were. We were … we were what we needed to be for each other then." He
paused and looked across the street to the hotel where another limousine
had arrived and was being flocked by the reporters. When he spoke again,
his voice had a faraway sound. "What we weren't … what we weren't … is the
way we are now."
 
 This time Ray smiled sadly and pushed his hands further into his pockets.
Lowering his head, he looked up at Fraser through his long lashes. "Funny
thing, Fraser, I actually understood what you meant just now."
 
 For reasons he could not explain, Fraser suddenly found his eyes filled
with tears.
 
 "You won't come tonight, will you?" Ray asked, his voice gentle and sad.
 
 "I can't, Ray." Fraser's voice was low and strained. "You understand."
 
 Ray nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to see you with that In … with Eli,
either." He stepped forward, closing the distance between them and
suddenly enfolded Fraser in a hug. "We don't want to see the way we
weren't."
 
 They held each other for long, long minutes and when they finally stepped
apart, both men wiped at moisture under their eyes.
 
 "Goodbye, Ray," Fraser said solemnly. "It was lovely to see you again."
 
 "Yeah, you too, Fraser."
 
 They held each other's gaze for another long moment and then Fraser
smiled sadly, replaced his stetson on his head, nodded at Ray then turned
on his heel, striding away confidently, his head held high. Suddenly, the
prospect of seeing Ray Vecchio and Victoria Metcalfe no longer seemed so
daunting.
 
 Ray watched until Fraser's uniform was a red blur, then turned and
crossed the street, determined not to start whistling any Barbra Streisand
songs.