Unfailing - by Ashinae   
 

Rating/Warning: R. Language, slash, sex, refers to some violence. 
Pairing: Fraser/Vecchio 
Disclaimer: Don't belong to me, never will, weep moan complain. One scene
is borrowed from an episode of Xena, and something Ray says is taken, sort
of, from Queer as Folk. I don't own either of those shows. 
Spoilers: none 
Summary: The end of "Victims of Love." 
Notes: Well, it's finally over!! I say finally, but I haven't even been
working on this series for two weeks - it seems like forever. I want to
take this time to thank *several* people. First, to Jo and Sally - thank
you for supporting me, encouraging me, and putting up with my crap. I love
ya both! 
Thank you to *everyone* who has taken time out of their lives to write to
me about "Victims." It means so much to me :) 
Oh, and my sincerest apologies to ALL Kowalski fans. Never again, I
promise. 
Anyone who has missed the rest of the series, they can all be found here
on Hexwood :) 

Feedback, please! :) caindra@yahoo.com 

* * * * * 

UNFAILING - July, 2000 
by Ashinae 

* 

We have been doing this for a week. 

Even after we solved the case, Ray and I went and found another club. So
we continue, going out, tormenting each other to the point of breaking,
going back to my apartment and having sex. 

And each night, Ray leaves after I fall asleep. 

I don't try to stop him. I could try, but I won't. 

I'll take what I can get from him. I need what he can give me, and if this
is all I can have I will cherish it until he takes it from me entirely. 

He doesn't realise he's killing me. 

He gasps in my ear, moans my name, as I beg him for more. 

We don't see or speak to each other except for when we go out, when he
comes back to my apartment and takes what I can give him. I give him
everything, and I know that is more than my body. It is my heart and soul
and all that I am, but it's never enough. Never enough for him, never
enough for me. 

We're not friends, not lovers; I don't know what to call this. 

We never do this face to face. I don't think either of us could handle to
look in each other's eyes as he takes me. It might be our undoing, and we
might admit things neither of us can say. That we can't and don't trust
each other. That we both blame ourselves for everything that has happened
to destroy what we have. That I love him more than my own life, for there
is nothing of my life to love. 

I am nothing without him, and he knows that. He is afraid of that, as much
as I am. 

We are slowly destroying ourselves and each other... and what's left of my
sanity. I don't know when this will end, except that when it does, I'm not
sure if life can continue at all. 

** 

I'm sitting at my desk, trying to concentrate on doing some paperwork, and
all I think about is Benny. Fraser. Benny. God, I don't know what to call
him anymore. It was always *so easy* to call him Benny, before, when
things between us were bordering on perfect, and life was good and we
loved each other unconditionally, and I didn't think we could ever lose
sight of ourselves and each other. It's easier to call him Fraser now,
because it's more... detached, I guess. Less personal than a nickname. 

I used to always be the only one who would *ever* have been able to get
away with such a goofy nickname for the guy. 

When I call him "Fraser" he gets this look in his eyes, like it hurts. But
the same thing happens when I call him "Benny" and I just don't know what
to do half the time. 

Last night I called him, get this, "Baby", like he's some five-dollar
hooker or something. 

Getting him into bed has been just as easy as if he really was one. 

It's the pants, dammit. I think he bought an extra pair or something,
because he knows they drive me nuts. He wears those fucking leather pants
and these white shirts and it's almost impossible to keep from ripping
them off of him on the spot and ravaging him on a table in the club we've
been going to. 

He probably wouldn't stop me. 

Like the humiliation is part of the whole self-punishment kick he's been
on. 

My thoughts come to a screeching halt when someone clears their throat
from beside my desk. 

You know, I'm amazed she *owns* jeans. Of course, they've definitely been
ironed. 

I blink a few times. "Uh, Inspector, uh, hi." 

Thatcher nods. "Detective." 

I wave at the chair next to my desk. "Have a seat?" 

She nods again. "Thank you." She sits down and looks at me very seriously,
clears her throat. "It has not been a practice of mine to concern myself
with the lives of my fellow officers, especially on my day off. But I am
very concerned about Constable Fraser." 

I honestly didn't see that one coming, although I really shouldn't be that
surprised. "And you came to *me* for...?" 

She sighs, looks away from me for a second, and when her eyes meet mine
again, they're holding an expression that I can't believe I'd ever see:
sadness. "Detective--Ray. Fix the problem. You're the only one who can." 

"What do you mean, fix the problem? There is no problem," I lie. "There's
nothing wrong." 

Thatcher lets out a slow breath, knowing quite well that I'm lying. "He
has requested a transfer back up north," she tells me. "I haven't put it
through. I-I can't send him back with him the way he is now. I'm afraid of
what he might do to himself. At least here, I can keep an eye on him." She
fixes me with a level, steady look. "He's not the same. I think you're the
only person who can save him, but it's your choice." She stands. "Don't
let him down, Detective. Whatever has transpired between you, you have to
let him go, or forgive him. He's killing himself." She glances away, and
says softly, "Please," then turns and walks away. 

* 

I lay sprawled on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as Ray works his way
down my body with almost loving gentleness. 

I'd almost forgotten how gentle he could be. 

I will miss this. This, whatever it is, between us. It is not what we had
before he left, and before I ruined it all, but it is something and I will
take it, wrap it up in a coccoon and hold it safe and warm until he takes
it from me. I won't take it from him. 

"I want you, Benny," he whispers against my flesh. 

"You have me," I gasp back as his tongue works its way over the length of
my erection. "You have all of me." 

"No, I don't," he says, so quietly I almost don't hear it. "I want you to
fuck me, Benny." 

I'm beyond surprised. From the way things were going, I had not expected
he would ever want that again. 

"Are you sure, Ray?" 

"I'm sure, Benny." 

He pulls me up, and takes my spot on the bed, face-down, spreading his
legs for me. I run a hand down his back, lean forward to press a kiss on
his lower back. 

"C'mon, Benny," he says, "do it, now. Do it, Benny. Fuck me." 

How can I resist that? I've never been able to say no to him. I never
will. 

He moans loudly as I slide slowly into him. It feels too good, it's been
too long; I don't know how long it can last, but I hope it's forever. 

I pound into Ray, hard, brutal, relentless, as he cries out for more; I
don't hold back because I know he doesn't want me to hold back. I give him
all I can and when it's over, I catch my breath for a moment, then clean
us both. He barely moves; just rolls over onto his back and stares at the
ceiling. I curl up on my side, as I always do, and am soon asleep. 

When I wake up a few hours later, Ray is not in bed beside me, which is
only to be expected. However, he *is* sitting at my table, half-dressed,
staring out a window. 

"Ray," I say softly, "you're still here." I sit up and turn on the lamp
next to the bed. 

He doesn't turn and look at me. "Yeah," is all he says. 

"Why?" I ask, pulling the blanket up over my lap, pulling up my knees to
rest my arms on them. 

Now he looks at me. "I've been thinking," he says slowly. "About us, and
where we're going, what we've been doing." 

I try not to sound bitter when I speak. "There *is* no 'us', Ray. It's...
I don't know what it is, but we're not really together in any sense other
than for sexual gratification." 

He actually looks sad. "I had hoped there'd be more to it for you, Benny."


"I'm being realistic." 

"Pessimistic is more like it." He stands up and comes to sit on the edge
of my bed. 

I lower my gaze from his. 

"We've really fucked all this up, Benny," he says softly. "But we could
try to make it work, couldn't we?" 

"We can't trust each other, we've both seen to that, though I did more
than you. I don't expect you to ever forgive me. So why should you?" 

"I don't know," he admits. "But I'm never gonna stop loving you." 

I shake my head. "Ah, Ray. Try. You deserve a family. Not what I can give
you. I have nothing to give but what you see. I'm not worth it. Besides,
I've asked to be transferred back home." 

I don't look up to see the expression that crosses his face. I can't. But
I *can* imagine the shock that registers in his eyes. 

*Eyes that see my very soul.* 

"Soon enough, you'll forget I ever existed." 

"Benny, no, don't--" 

"Please go, Ray." 

"Benny!" 

"Goodbye, Ray." 

It takes a moment, but he finally stands. I listen to him getting dressed.
He walks to the door, then speaks again. 

"Who could love *you*, right, Fraser? You and your wolf, your uptight
moral code, your devotion to your work, your monumental guilt trips. It's
a small, small little world. What is there to love?" He pauses. "It was
always good enough for me." 

And with that, the door closes. 

How could he say those things to me, after everything I have done to him?
I am unworthy of his love. He should know that as well as I do. He had
been so angry with me; how could that just vanish? I hardly believe that.
I don't know what it is that has made him decide he could perhaps forgive
me. 

Even if he could, one day, I could never forgive myself. 

I don't deserve his love. I never will. Never again. 

The next morning, Inspector Thatcher dodges my questioning about my
transfer, and sends me off to file some paperwork. I try not to think,
about anything, but I keep hearing Ray, over and over, telling me it was
"always good enough." The words echo through my mind to the point where I
think I might go completely mad. 

Sometime after one o'clock, Detectives Huey and Dewey show up at the
Consulate doors. 

"We're stealing you," Huey announces. 

"Excuse me?" I demand. 

Dewey calls past me to Inspector Thatcher. "We need his help! We'll bring
him back in a few hours." 

Despite my protests, they drag me off to their car, which is parked right
behind Ray's. 

** 

You see it on TV, right? When something *really* bad happens, and
everything goes into slow-motion and there's absolute silence as--as you
watch-- 

As I watch Fraser fall to the ground. 

Time freezes. Stops entirely. 

The guys who ran that nightclub have 'partners', who are still in
business. They ratted on these partners--how kind of them--so Welsh told
me to grab Huey and Dewey and get out there and do our jobs. They
suggested we get Fraser. So a little while later, we're standing in what
could be considered an office, being told they couldn't help us, and then
being ushered out to the hallway. 

I don't know why it happened. How... someone panicked. Right now, all I
know is that Fraser is lying still on the ground, and his tunic is being
stained darker red by his own blood. 

My sense of hearing comes back and noise is everywhere, someone yelling at
the shooter that he's a dumb fuck, someone screaming--someone screaming
that's me--Huey and Dewey shouting-- 

I can't breathe. Oh dear God above, help me, I can't breathe--help *him,*
help Benny because oh my God they shot him, shot him twice, *twice* the
stupid bastards! 

Someone's yelling my name, but it doesn't sink in, as I fall down on my
knees next to Benny, pulling him closer to me. He's staring up at the
ceiling, I can hear him trying desperately to breathe, he's trying to say
my name. 

"Okay, Benny, relax, relax. You're gonna be fine. You gotta be fine!" 

Can't panic. I can't panic because if I do it's not gonna help him-- 

I reach into my jacket, pull out my cell, call for an ambulance, start
screaming at the dispatcher because she tells me it'll be fifteen minutes
and Benny doesn't *have* fifteen minutes! 

Can't lose him, can't lose him now. 

"Just stay awake for me, Benny," I plead with him. "Stay awake. Come on,
look at me, let me know you can hear me!" 

I'm leaning over him, got my hands on his arms when he starts struggling
against me and dammit he's strong. 

"What's happening?" 

I look up at Dewey, shaking my head, feeling the panic start to set in
again. 

"I don't know!" No need to yell at him, calm down, get a grip, Ray.
"Fraser! Benny!" 

He takes one last gasp of air, and then he just lies there. 

I shake him, hard. "No, Benny, come on! Look at me! Look at me, dammit!" 

Huey's crouching down on Benny's other side now, presses his finger's to
Benny's neck, looks up at me and doesn't say anything. 

I'm gonna be sick. "He's *not* dead," I snap at him. "I wouldn't let him.
Come on, Benny, wake up..." Can't let him go, not gonna let him die.
"Fraser, come on, you're scaring me. C'mon, wake up," I keep pleading.
"He--he needs some air." I lean over him again, desperately performing
mouth-to-mouth and getting nothing for my efforts except sad looks from
the Huey and Dewey. Tears are already blurring my vision, but I can't
stop, because if I stop I'm going to lose him. "Come on, Fraser,
*breathe!*" I start doing chest compressions, and look down to see my
hands covered in his blood and oh God, no, don't do this to me, don't take
him, not now! 

"Wake *up*!" I'm screaming at him, pleading, performing CPR as best as I
can because they're not going to get here in time, they're not going to be
able to save him, and I have to, can't let him die. 

I didn't even realise Dewey was crouched down beside me until I felt his
hand on my shoulder. "Please stop, Ray," he says softly. "He's dead." 

I push him away harder than I intended to. "Get out of my way!" I yell.
"You don't know *anything!*" I turn back to Benny. "Don't you listen to
him. Come on, Benny, I know you're in there. Breathe for me, please. Show
him, show them all. Wake up and *breathe.*" 

Nothing. 

*Nothing.* 

He's not dead. He can't be. 

"You never run from anything!" I yell. "Come on, fight!" 

"Ray!" Huey's speaking this time. I look up at him, and I can't even
imagine the expression on my own face. "Ray, it's time to stop. Let him
go." 

"No!" I can't stop trying to help him, have to keep going. Not going to
lose him, not going to let him go, and oh God, there's just so much
blood... on him, on me, everywhere-- 

"Come on, Benny," I plead again. "Don't leave me." 

I've never been hysterical before in my life. Huey and Dewey are trying to
stop me, trying to pull me away from him, but I refuse. I'm clinging to
his still, lifeless body, pounding on his chest, screaming, begging him
not to leave me, to please, for the love of God, wake up. 

"Don't you leave me! Don't leave me! Don't *leave* me!" 

I can hear the ambulance, just barely. 

And just as Huey finally tears me away, that's when Benny's entire body
jerks, and we hear a desperate, ragged gasp for air. 

* 

I think, really, this is where it all began. 

Lying in a small hospital room, with Ray watching over me. 

My own father pushed me off a cliff. 

After I had been shot, I 'woke up' lying in a snow bank with Dad peering
down at me. He shook his head at me, helped me to my feet, and asked me
what I thought I was doing. I let him know that I was dead, and he just
shook his head at me again, wanted to know what I was running from. 

"I am *not* running from anything." 

"You're running from your mistakes, son. You can't continue to do that.
You have to go back, face up to what you've done." 

"How would *you* know?" 

"I'm well aware of what has transpired between you and... the Yank. Stop
running, son. Go back there and face him." 

"I'm quite fine here." 

"I'm not going to let you do this." 

"Why the keen interest?" 

"I don't like seeing you sulking." 

"I have *not* been sulking." 

"You do it better than the wolf does." 

"I don't need to put up with this." 

"Good." 

And he pushed me. 

Just like that. 

I woke up in complete agony, not understanding where I was or what was
going on, just that Ray was there, begging me not to leave. But then I
think I fell unconscious again, and remained that way for a few days, in
critical condition. 

Ray looks exhausted. Dief is sitting with his head on Ray's lap, staring
up at him as Ray stares at me and I count spots on the ceiling. 

Neither of us knows what to say. 

Finally Ray speaks. "I almost lost you." He sighs. "I *did* lose you. I...
I can't deal with that, Benny. You can't leave me." 

I speak very quietly. "When Inspector Thatcher came to see me this
morning, I asked her to cancel my transfer back home. She... she told me
she never sent it." 

Ray nods. "I know. She told me a number of days ago she wasn't going to
send it until... until things between us were better." He gives a little
laugh at the surprised look that I know crosses my face. "Yeah, she came
to talk to me, Benny. She's not as big of a bitch as I thought she was, I
guess." 

"Ray," I chide, "she's my superior officer." 

He shrugs. "Look, Benny..." He leans forward. "Benny, there is *no way*
I'm going to lose you again. Things aren't gonna be perfect, I know that.
We've got a lot of things to work out. But there's no way you're getting
rid of me. Not after today. It was hard enough being in Las Vegas. I lost
it when I thought... when you were..." He lets out a shaky breath. "I
still love you." 

I close my eyes. Again, neither of us says anything. Finally, I say, "Ray,
you're going to be the death of me." 

"No. I'm going to be your life." 

THE END  

Did you *really* think I would just kill off the Mountie?? 

*The Xena episode is "Is There a Doctor In the House?" which has got to be
one of *the* best eps of the series. 

*The Queer as Folk inspired bit is from either episode 7 or 8, I can't
remember right now which one and I'm too lazy to go find out. It was Ray's
bit about "Who could love you?" and honestly, it's taken very loosely from
that, but oh well. QaF needs mentioning just because it's so bloody
brilliant.