FIC (Due South): "Like a House on Fire" (Fraser/Kowalski) - 2002. Part 3/3

[bethbethbeth]

(See Part 1 for content information / possible warnings)

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Ray scowled, trying to stay asleep despite the annoying scratching noise. What was that? A branch brushing against the house? Must be a storm or something. Except. . . storms didn't . . . whine. And that was definitely a whine. Dief? Yeah, sounded like him. Wondering what the heavy thing making a numb and slightly damp place on his thigh was, Ray opened his eyes, and . . .

"Fuck!" He sat bolt upright, dislodging Fraser who was using his thigh for a pillow. "What time is it?"

Fraser blinked at him, disheveled and confused, one side of his face red from where it had been pressed against Ray's leg, and a little shiny with moisture. "Wha. . .?"

"Time! What time. . . ." Ray remembered suddenly that he was still wearing his watch, and he looked, and groaned. "Oh God, I am so screwed. I'm due in Saskatoon in less than two hours and there's just no way, short of alien intervention, that I'm going to get there in time."

He could almost see Fraser's brain start working. The vacant expression sharpened, his eyes narrowed, and then he reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his pants, detaching his phone from the belt before pushing himself up to a sitting position. "Let me see if I can do anything. Who have you been working with in Saskatoon?"

It took him a minute. He always messed up the name. Wait, he had it. "Guy named Thobhani."

"Aki Thobhani?" Fraser asked. Of course he pronounced it exactly the way the guy himself did.

Ray nodded. 'Yeah, that's him."

"All right, good." He opened his phone and dialed. A moment later he started to speak. "Aki? Hello, it's Benton Fraser. Yes. Mmm? Fine, yes, relatively quiet, though we've had a bit of excitement lately, which is why I'm calling. You're expecting my former partner from Chicago, Ray Kowalski, this afternoon, to give a deposition on the LeBeau case? What? Yes, actually, he is. Yes, that's the one. The submarine and the nerve gas, yes." Fraser rolled his eyes at Ray with an exasperated expression on his face. "Yes, in any case, he's been assisting me with an arson investigation in La Rouille and to be quite frank time's gotten away from us and there's simply no way that he can be back in Saskatoon in time for his one o'clock appointment this afternoon. Is there any way he could. . . yes. Yes. Four o'clock? That should do just fine. Thank you very much."

Fraser closed his phone and looked at Ray smugly.

Ray gaped. "Fraser! You just lied!"

"Yes, I did," Fraser said, somewhat defiantly, only to correct himself a moment later. "Well, after a fashion,"

Ray grinned. "Okay, now I know you love me." He paused for a moment and looked at him seriously. "You know I do, right? Love you, I mean."

Fraser set the phone down on the floor next to his pants, then rolled back over onto his side, facing Ray. He reached out and touched Ray's face, fingers gently brushing back the hair from his forehead, thumb trailing gently over his eyebrows. "I . . . hoped. And now I do," he said, an almost imperceptible quaver in his voice.

"Good!" Ray said fiercely, wrapping an arm around Fraser's waist and holding him tightly. "Don't ever stop knowing it, okay?"

Fraser buried his face for a moment in the warmth of Ray's neck, then pulled back just long enough that Ray could see his suspiciously bright eyes before he leaned back in and kissed Ray, hard, on the mouth. "I won't, Ray. I won't stop knowing it. Just . . . keep reminding me, all right?"

"Yeah. I think I can do that."

Fraser started to smile, but it was an odd smile like Ray had never seen before on his friend's face - and one he wasn't sure he ever wanted to see again. Happiness was there like you'd expect to see - like you'd hope to see - in a smile, but, God, something else was there, too. Something that pressed hard at the corners of Fraser's mouth and eyes. Not pain, precisely. Not really fear. Neither of those - or maybe a little of both. Something almost . . . desperate.

Ray reached up, his palms against Fraser's temples, thumbs brushing lightly over the soft skin below his eyes, trying to erase that look of desperation with his hands. He felt the warmth of Fraser's breath against his cheeks, his mouth, each rapid exhalation an unspoken plea. He leaned in, closing the gap between them until there was just a whisper of space between his lips and Fraser's own slightly parted lips. He held himself still, felt his own shallow breaths find entry into Fraser's open mouth, then sealed their mouths with a kiss.

He felt Fraser's fingers stroking the short hairs at the back of his head, tasted his tongue as it begged access to his mouth, heard the soft sounds he made in his throat as they kissed. Then Fraser broke the kiss and spoke, slowly and deliberately, but so softly and hoarsely that if they hadn't been so close, Ray would never have been able to hear him at all.

"I love you."

Ray squeezed his eyes shut tightly, just for a moment, a feeble barrier erected against the sudden sting of tears. He hadn't known how much he'd needed to hear Fraser say those words until they were finally spoken.

He opened his eyes and looked at Fraser. God. He looked as relieved as Ray felt, but he looked . . . surprised - like he couldn't believe he'd actually been able to say it. Ray shook his head and smiled reassuringly. He knew that was a damned scary thing to say when it was for real. His smile drew an answering one from Fraser, unclouded now by the fear and pain that had been there moments before.

Ray wrapped his arms tightly around Fraser and smiled. "I don't need to ask you if that was hard to say."

Fraser grinned, blushing slightly, then his expression turned serious. "Not as hard as saying goodbye's going to be. Ray, I . . . God, I don't want you to leave, but you have to get to Saskatoon. Aki's already done us a great favor in agreeing to have the time changed. Our judicial system is far less . . . flexible, I suppose you'd say, about scheduling matters than the Chicago court system appeared to be, and we shouldn't impose upon him a second time, particularly not when, well . . . ."

Ray nodded. "No, you're right. And you know, I do understand how much being dishonest grates on you, even when it's a matter of life or death."

Fraser frowned. "A matter of . . . ."

"I was dying of waiting, Benton," said Ray gravely.

"Ah," Fraser said with a smile. "Of course."

Ray dropped a kiss on Fraser's too-welcoming mouth, then slid out of the bed reluctantly and began to retrieve his scattered clothing from the floor. He could feel Fraser's eyes on him as he slipped his briefs on and turned, about to make a joke about charging admission, but he stopped when he saw the expression on Fraser's face.

He couldn't remember ever being looked at with such a combination of longing and love in his entire life. It was a little weird to be the focus of such intensity, but he wasn't about to say anything that might make Fraser think that any part of what he was feeling was wrong. He reached out again, but Fraser shook his head this time.

"No, we really have to get dressed."

"Right, right."

Ray put on his socks and trousers, but the shirt was another matter. Not only was one of the buttons missing, but there was a tear in the buttonhole too. Okay, so maybe there was a slight drawback to Fraser's intensity. He threw the shirt on the bed and pulled another one from his bag.

"Good thing I still had a spare. I don't know if showing up looking like a caveman just had his way with me would go over real big in Saskatoon."

"I'm so sorry," Fraser said, looking at the damage he'd done earlier. "I'll replace it, of course, and . . . ."

"Nah, don't worry. It died in a good cause," Ray grinned. "Besides, I . . . um . . . I kind of owe you a shirt, anyway."

"I know."

"You do?" Ray asked, looking surprised.

"Yeah." Fraser nodded, then pushed himself off the bed and up onto his bare feet. He walked behind Ray and brought his arms around him, his body warm against Ray's back. "You're welcome to anything I have, Ray. When you . . . ."

Ray waited for him to go on, but the sentence remained incomplete. "Fraser? What were you going to say?"

"It was nothing, Ray."

"Come on, Benton," he said, turning around in Fraser's arms to face him. "It didn't sound like nothing."

"Actually, it was. I was going to say . . . well, I was going to say that when you wore the shirt you could think of it as if I had my arms around you, keeping you . . . oh God, would you stop me, please?" He buried his flushed face in Ray's shoulder.

Ray patted his back and chuckled. "Keeping me warm? You're really sweet, you know that?"

"Shut up, Ray."

Ray was still laughing when they heard the scratching sound coming from the cabin door again.

"Oh, Lord. I completely forgot about Diefenbaker. He's been outside all this time."

"Man," Ray said, shaking his head. "I don't envy you. That's going to be one pissed off wolf."

"Ray, could you . . . ." Fraser said, one foot in his boxers.

"Yeah, I'll let the guy in. Go, um, look busy or something."

Ray opened the door. Diefenbaker, after giving Ray a perfunctory lick on the hand, jumped up on the bed and started to bark at Fraser.

Fraser paused, pants in his hands. "You couldn't possibly have heard me since, as you have told me repeatedly, you're deaf. In any case, I have not been watching too much daytime television."

Ray knelt down on the bed and put his hands on the side of Diefenbaker's muzzle, turning him slightly to face him.

"Enough with the yapping, okay? First off, you're a wolf and wolves aren't supposed to bark, right? B, you're in now, so stop complaining. Besides, if you behave, Benton's going to get you an order of chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes with gravy from Tilda's when you get back home . . . aren't you, Benton?"

"Ray," Fraser said severely, trousers on now, but unfastened as he reached for his shirt.

"Aren't you?"

Fraser sighed. "Of course I am, Ray.

Ray grinned. "Good. See, Dief? Life's good."

Diefenbaker woofed in agreement and curled up contentedly on top of Ray's discarded shirt.

"Hey! That's mine!" Ray protested, reaching to tug it out from under him.

Fraser reached out and caught his wrist. "Wait, Ray. If it's not too presumptuous of me, perhaps you might let Dief keep it? I mean. . . I'd love to wear it myself, but I'm afraid that's not an option, and in any case it's ruined, so someone might as well get some use from it," he said ruefully.

Ray looked from Fraser, where he stood holding his own shirt, to Dief, happily snoozing on his shirt, and he smiled. "Dief, huh? Well, if you can wrestle it away from him, lemme tell you that a shirt makes a pretty good pillowcase."

Fraser's eyebrows drew down slightly. "I'm not sure I take your meaning."

Ray felt himself flush a little. "See. . . I, um, actually owe you two shirts. You left one in Chicago back when you moved, and I just sort of. . . forgot to send it back to you."

"In Chicago?" Fraser sounded, and looked, like he'd been poleaxed. "That long ago?"

Ray nodded, feeling his blush deepen. "Yeah. Okay, so I admit it. I'm a moron. But at least I finally got a clue, eh?"

Fraser did a bit of a double-take, and smiled. "You said 'eh.'"

"Yeah." Ray chuckled. "'Eh.' People back home keep asking me if I'm Canadian. I also drink tea and read books and I'm even polite. Well, mostly. Except when I'm not."

"And I drink coffee and swear and watch television. Good lord. I didn't realize national characteristics were infectious."

Ray snorted and pulled on his shirt, buttoning it. "So what happens now?"

"Now, you go to Saskatoon and take care of your responsibilities with the Le Beau case, and I return to La Rouille to finalize the arrangements for Crawford's sentencing circle." Fraser said evenly, not looking at Ray as he put on his own shirt and tucked it in, then zipped up.

"Yeah, and then what?" Ray asked, as he shoved his feet into his boots and stamped them on. "Because I've got to tell you, Benton, my days of being somebody's pen pal ended back when I was in sixth grade."

Fraser paused in fastening his belt and sighed. "What happens next, then, is that we try to determine what employment opportunities are available for me in Chicago, although honestly, I can't imagine being able to leave my posting before . . . ."

Ray stopped in the middle of picking up his jacket off the floor. "Wait a minute. You're thinking about moving to Chicago?"

"Well, yes." Fraser frowned, his expression going very. . . expressionless. "Unless I misunderstood? I may have been jumping the gun a bit, but I assumed we. . ." He stopped. Swallowed. "But if you're not ready to make that kind of decision yet, I understand completely. I'm certain we can . . . ."

"No!" Ray almost shouted, then he toned himself down. But he could see that Fraser was trampolining to a wrong conclusion and he was determined to head him off at the pass. Or something like that. Talk about mixing metaphors. "No, of course I'm ready. Decision's been signed, sealed, and delivered at my end. Fraser, I want to be with you - you know that. But . . . Chicago. Wow. I guess I didn't think you'd be willing to move back there."

Fraser sat down on the bed, holding his hiking boot but not putting it on as he looked at Ray with something like consternation. "Where else could we be, Ray? That's where your job is. Your career. Your family and friends. I wouldn't dream of asking you to give up all the things that are important to you."

Ray poked two fingers at him, scowling. "Hey, get it straight. It's you that's most important to me. Do you hear that?"

"Well, yes, but . . . ."

"No. I mean, do you really hear it? Because I'm telling you right now, Benton Fraser, I would give up anything . . . anything, to be with you. I'm not going to be without you in my life. Not again. And if that means moving up here to Canada, then that's the way it's going to be." He stood in front of Fraser with his fists clenched, ready to. . . he wasn't sure what. . . but whatever it took to convince Fraser he meant it.

Fraser's expression softened, and he reached to take one of Ray's clenched fists in his hand, prying at it, opening his fingers. "I feel the same way, Ray, but you have to understand that it's no sacrifice for me to leave Canada. Not now. You've seen what my life's been like up here. Even this weekend, when I actually had an investigation to pursue, the pace has been, well . . . Ray, to be honest, after Chicago, it's driving me out of my mind."

Yeah. Ray had seen that. But he'd thought it was something else. "You sure it's not just because you've . . . um . . . been lonely?"

Fraser nodded, his gaze never leaving Ray's. "I'm sure. That's been a part of it, of course, but it isn't the whole answer."

"Okay," said Ray slowly, thinking. "What if we moved up north? Don't you still miss the Territories?"

"I don't know about down in the United States, but here in Canada we have a little thing called 'a vacation,'" Fraser deadpanned.

Ray smiled, but shook his head. "Come on, I'm serious, here. I did okay on our trip, and that was a lot tougher than living up there would be. I could hack Inuvik or Yellowknife or wherever if it would make you happy."

"I appreciate that more than you could possibly know, Ray, but it's not necessary," Fraser said. "At one time, being allowed to return north would have come as a godsend, but quite frankly, I'm no longer certain I'd be comfortable with that degree of isolation, or the pace."

Ray turned that over in his head, and thought he understood. "People change, huh?" he asked after a moment.

"People change," Fraser agreed, sounding relieved.

"Okay, so it's Chicago for the both of us. That's good," Ray said definitively. "I like that. Okay, so how about I talk to Welsh when I get back? See if he has any suggestions."

Fraser nodded, then sat back down on the bed to put on his boots. "Good idea. For my part, I think I'll get in touch with Assistant Commissioner Underhill. He's the one who instituted the RCMP liaison program, and . . ."

"The liaison thing was his idea?" Ray interrupted. "I think I want to kiss him."

"Perhaps you'd find a hearty handshake sufficient," Fraser said, as Ray chuckled. "In any case, he's currently serving on the commission developing a pilot program involving the cooperation of a number of governmental agencies from both our countries. I'm afraid I don't know as much about this as I might, but now's as good a time as any to learn."

"Sounds good," Ray said, nodding. "Hey, you know what? I take back what I said. Forget that Underhill guy; I think I want to kiss you, instead."

He tugged Fraser up off the bed and pulled him into his arms, kissing his mouth, then leaned against him, just holding him. The thought of having to lose this closeness when they'd only just found it, was more than he wanted to think about.

"Don't want to go," he muttered.

"I don't want you to go," Fraser said softly. "Perhaps . . ."

"What?"

"I was thinking that perhaps I could come down to Saskatoon tomorrow evening after work. Between Constables Traynor and Zhertak, I'm sure the detachment will survive without my presence for a bit longer."

"Yeah? You really think you could get away?" Ray asked eagerly. "Or maybe I could go back up to La Rouille. I don't think I'm going to have anything much to do after tomorrow afternoon, and my flight back to Chicago isn't until 3:00 p.m. on Wednesday."

Diefenbaker jumped off the bed and yipped happily at Ray's heels.

Fraser shook his head. "Well, that's one vote for you coming back up to La Rouille. You know, he's only taking this much of an interest because he believes you to be a softer touch when it comes to contraband snack food than I am."

"I'm hurt," Ray laughed, bending down to let Diefenbaker lick him. "I thought he liked me for my conversational abilities."

"Perhaps he does," Fraser said. "Actually, if he's anything like me, he likes having you with him for every possible reason."

Ray looked at him with a mock frown. "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, Benton, but I'm not sure I want the wolf liking me for all the same reasons you like me."

Dief growled, and Fraser's eyes widened.

"Ray!"

Ray laughed. "Jeez! Settle down, both of you! I was joking." He looked down at Fraser's feet. "Finish tying your shoes, Benton, we need to get out of here pronto." He glanced past Fraser, and winced. "Oh God. . . the bed. They're never going to buy the conference story once they get a look at that."

Fraser, kneeling to tie his second boot, craned around, and eyed the rumpled bed critically. "Actually, Ray, I think all we need do is straighten the covers."

"You don't think the come stains kind of give it away there?" Ray asked drily.

Fraser looked at the bed for a moment longer, and started to smile. "I suppose they do at that." He stood up, and pulling out his wallet, removed several bills and placed them on the rumpled bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Paying for the use of the room and leaving a cleaning fee."

Ray blinked. "Don't you . . . uh. . . . ." He stopped, thought for a moment, and looked at Fraser again, perplexed. "What, people don't gossip in Canada?"

Fraser's smile grew broader. "Of course they do."

"So then. . . ." Ray got it, like the clouds opened up and trumpets sounded. He felt his own eyes widen. "Oh."

Fraser suddenly looked a little concerned. "Is that all right?"

Ray swallowed hard, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it's fine. Except. . . what if . . . won't you get . . . . " He couldn't say it. Pussy. He took a breath. "I'm not going to be here to watch your back, and damn it, Benton, I do not want to get a phone call telling me that somebody didn't back you up because of this gossip."

Dief whined. Fraser looked down at Dief. "Certainly not. I think it's Ray who's been watching too much daytime television." His gaze shifted to Ray's face. "Do you know of any actual incidents where that happened?"

Ray thought about it. Hell, they had a bunch of gay cops on the force in Chicago. They even had a gay community liaison. Nobody batted an eyelash. "Um, no," he muttered.

"I thought not."

"Stupid, huh?" he asked, knowing he was beet red.

Fraser smiled and shook his head. "No. Sweet."

Ray put a hand over his eyes. "Shit. It's just. . . it's you, Benton. It's not just some 'gay cop.' It's you. I worry, you know?"

"I do know. And that's all right. I know I've worried about you ever since I came up here, for all the everyday, mundane reasons one worries about a cop. I know what can happen, with or without backup. But you can't. . . we can't. . . let fear rule us."

Fear? Try sheer terror, Ray thought, but he straightened up and reached to pull Fraser close and hug him. "I'm happy to be gossiped about, 'long as you're part of it. And if anybody says anything mean to you I'll be on the next plane up here to kick 'em in the head, got that?"

Fraser chuckled against his neck. "It's probably fortunate that there are no direct flights, then."

Ray laughed. "Yeah, probably." Pulling back, he brushed one more kiss across Fraser's lips and then let him go and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "I look okay?" he asked.

"You look marvelous," Fraser said huskily.

Ray put out a hand. "Down boy! I meant do I look respectable enough to talk to a judge?"

Fraser eyed him more critically. "Yes."

He nodded. "Good. He took a step toward the door and hesitated as another thought occurred to him. He inhaled deeply, but damn, he really couldn't tell. He looked back at Fraser. "Um. . . do I smell like I just got laid?"

Fraser laughed. "Only to me, Ray. I don't expect anyone would detect it at a normal distance."

"Guess I better not let anyone get too close then," he joked.

Fraser's eyes darkened. "That's right."

Ray's eyebrows shot up. Note to self: Fraser had a jealous side. Good to know. It was okay, though. Ray knew all about those. "Count on it," he said.

He glanced around the room to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and saw the money on the bed. That was wrong. He walked back over, got his own wallet and took out a crisp US twenty dollar bill. Replacing one of Fraser's bills with the twenty, he handed Fraser back the bill he'd taken off the bed. Fraser didn't protest, and the look in his eyes told Ray the gesture was understood, and appreciated.

"All set then?" Fraser asked, pocketing the money.

Ray nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be." He opened the door and stepped outside into chilly gray day, waiting.

Fraser zipped up his jacket, picked up Ray's discarded shirt, and followed, Dief at their heels. They walked in silence back to where they'd parked. Ray noticed that Clydene was watching them from the office window, and he waved at her. They got to their cars and Fraser opened the door of his Suburban and tossed Ray's shirt inside, then came over as Ray unlocked the Taurus. As soon as he opened the door, Diefenbaker jumped in and squeezed through between the seats to the back where he sat down next to Ray's duffel bag and looked at them expectantly.

"Come on guy!" Ray protested. "Don't make this harder than it already is. You know we gotta go different directions here." He opened the back door and made shooing motions. "Out. You can't come to Saskatoon with me. The hotel doesn't take wolves, okay?"

Dief just whined and lay down, his chin on Ray's bag. Fraser sighed.

"I know, Dief, but really, we can't, either of us. Not at this moment."

That got a moan, and Dief put a paw on top of Ray's bag possessively.

"Honestly, it's all right. Ray will be back. We'll see him again soon." Fraser looked at Ray and nudged him with an elbow.

"Yeah," Ray added hastily. "Promise. Soon as I can get back here, okay? I'll, uh, bring you something."

Dief growled and eyed him disdainfully. Ray spread his hands. "Okay, sorry. I won't bring you anything." He looked at Fraser ruefully. "Guess bribes only go so far."

"Nothing could possibly replace your presence," Fraser said a little wistfully.

Ray blinked hard and shook his head. "Okay, enough of that. Dief, out now. I mean it. Do not make me come in there and get you. One. . . two . . ."

Diefenbaker reluctantly heaved himself to his feet and exited the car. Ray closed the door and turned to Fraser, who avoided his gaze.

"I suppose this is goodbye," Fraser said, holding out a hand as if to shake.

Ray stared at his hand, took it, and pulled him in for a long, tight hug instead. "Just see you later, okay? Not goodbye," he said into Fraser's ear. "Hey, you want to really give ol' Clydene something to gossip about?"

"Excuse mmmph!"

Ray cut off Fraser's question by kissing him. There was a moment of startled stillness, and then he responded, returning Ray's kiss with as much passion as he had earlier. Fortified by his nap, Ray's body reacted predictably and he was half hard by the time they finally stopped. "Shit," he muttered, trying to settle himself into a less uncomfortable position without being too obvious about it. Kissing in front of Clydene was one thing. Grabbing himself was another.

Fraser nodded, licking his lips. "Indeed."

"Not up there on my list of 'greatest ideas ever,' eh?"

"Possibly not, but appreciated nonetheless." Fraser looked at the car. "Ray, you really should. . ." he gestured out to the south.

Ray nodded. "Yeah, I know. I have to go. I know that. I'm going. Really. Now. Right now."

"Wouldn't it help if you were actually in the car?" Fraser asked, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening a little as he fought to keep from smiling.

"Yeah, yeah," Ray got in and fastened the seat belt. Fraser closed the door for him, and then leaned down as Ray rolled down the window.

"One for the road?" Ray asked, feeling stupid and needy.

Fraser kissed him again. Softly this time. Exactly what he needed. When their lips parted, Fraser cleared his throat.

"You'd best get going, Ray. I'll talk to you tonight and we'll make plans."

Ray nodded, put the key in the ignition, and started the car. "Yeah, we will."

He pulled out, turned around and headed down the drive. Looking in the mirror, he nearly hit the brakes as he saw both Fraser and Dief standing beside the Suburban, watching him. Shit. How could he leave? How could he not leave? He had to leave. This. Sucked. He dragged his eyes from the rear view mirror and stared straight ahead. Drive, Kowalski. Just drive.

Twenty six minutes later, back on the CanAm and determinedly headed south, he pulled over onto the shoulder and got out his cell phone, turning it on, hitting the first autodial. A moment later his call was answered.

"Corporal Benton Fraser speaking."

"Benton."

There was a moment of silence. "Ray? Is something wrong?" Fraser sounded anxious.

"Other than the fact that you're headed north and I'm headed south, nope. Nothing."

"Ah. Then. . . why are you calling?"

"Love you."

He could hear Fraser swallow. "Ray. . . ." his voice cracked a little. "Ray, it's unsafe to use a cellular telephone while driving."

"I pulled over."

"I love you too."

Ray grinned. "Would you still love me if I hadn't pulled over?"

"I think that goes without saying."

"Okay, good. Bye."

"Good bye."

He got back on the road. Thirty two minutes later his phone rang. "Kowalski," he answered.

"Ray."

He laughed, glad the road was deserted so if he wandered a little as he laughed and drove and held the phone it wasn't a problem. "Cripes. We're a pair aren't we?"

"I think that's an excellent description."

"What's up?"

"I just . . . miss you."

"Likewise."

"Did you pull over?"

"No."

"Ray."

"What if I don't talk? I'll just hold the phone to my ear and you can . . . um. . . breathe at me or something."

Fraser groaned. "Now you're making me drive unsafely."

"You didn't pull over?" Ray asked, mock-appalled. "Tsk, tsk. Hey, this line secure?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"That means anybody could, like, overhear this call?"

"Yes."

"Guess I won't tell you what I'd really like to be doing to you right now then."

"Ray!"

Ray chuckled. "How many people you think Clydene's called so far?"

"A dozen, at least. Starting with Sally."

"Good. That way Zhertak will know to keep his hands to himself because you're taken."

"Ray, I've told you before, Constable Zhertak doesn't like me in that way."

"You just keep on thinking that."

"Ray, he has a girlfriend. Two girlfriends."

"Compensating," Ray said with a grin, constitutionally unable to refrain from chain-yanking, then he had to slow as a drift of snow pulled at his tires. "Hey, the road's kind of messy up ahead, I need both hands. I'll talk to you later."

"Yes, you will," Fraser said huskily.

He made it to Saskatoon without incident, with twenty minutes to spare, and was really glad he'd been to the Courthouse once already so he knew where he was going. Nobody looked at him weird and nobody sniffed at him so Fraser must have been right about him looking and smelling okay. After he gave his deposition, Aki Thobhani invited him to dinner along with a couple of the other RCMP guys working the Le Beau case for a hob-nob, though it turned out they mostly wanted to talk about the submarine thing, which was okay by Ray because it gave him a good reason to talk about Fraser.

When he stopped outside the restaurant to call and let Fraser know his plans, Sally answered Fraser's line and told Ray he was busy with Lana and Crawford Jones, but that she'd tell him about the dinner thing and that he'd call him after they got done. Then, to Ray's surprise, she told him that his visit had clearly been good for Fraser and she hoped that he'd visit again. He'd been blushing when he'd gone back to the table, and he wondered just how much ribbing Fraser was going to get over that stop in Weyakwin. It looked like everything was pretty much out in the open, which was good, but Fraser wasn't used to it and it might be a bit much for him.

Eventually Ray made it back to the motel. Once inside his room, he went to call Fraser but couldn't get decent cell coverage so he stripped to his shorts, pulled back the covers on the bed, and pulled the hotel phone closer to the bed. Finally he settled on the bed, read the instructions for how to place a call, and dialed.

Fraser answered on the first ring. "Ray?"

"Almost in the flesh."

"It's really not kind of you to say things like that when you're two hundred and thirty five miles away."

"Sorry. How'd it go today?"

"My day was fine, yours?"

Ray sighed and settled himself more comfortably against the pillows. "Benton, don't you think we're past 'fine' as an answer to that question? How much shit did you get today?"

"Well, I wouldn't precisely call it 'shit,' although I did get a lecture from Sally for not filing a leave notification before I left the detachment this morning, since she's responsible for maintaining our time records."

"Are you going to beat around the bush all night? How. Did. It. Go?"

Fraser's voice softened. "Very well, actually. I was pleasantly surprised by the number of congratulatory remarks made and the variety of people who made them."

Ray started to smile, a feeling of relief spreading through him, easing his tension. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Er. . . well, the Episcopalian Ladies Auxiliary brought me a cake." He cleared his throat. "I gave Dief a piece and put the rest in the freezer."

"One piece won't kill you, Benton," Ray said, rolling his eyes.

"No, of course not. I just wanted to wait for you."

Ray realized he was grinning like an idiot and would have made himself stop, but there was no one to see so he didn't. "Oh. Uh, okay. Cool. So nobody got nasty?"

"Not precisely nasty, no. There were a few less than polite comments but nothing serious."

Ray sat up. "What did they say? Who said it?"

Fraser sighed. "Ray, will you please relax? It was nothing, and even if it were something, I'm a trained peace officer and perfectly capable of handling things myself."

He sounded more than a little irritated. Ray swallowed his protest. "Sorry. I just . . . ."

"I know. How did the deposition go?"

"Smooth as silk. LeBeau's going away, no doubt. Everything was by the book. I might have to go back in sometime in the morning and answer a few more questions, but Aki thinks they should be finished with me by noon, latest."

"And dinner?"

"Dinner was good. They all wanted to talk about you. Everybody wants to know about the sub thing. And the litterbug thing. And the fishing over the limit thing, but that was before my time. You'll have to get me up to speed so I know the story for next time."

Fraser groaned. "Oh God, I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

Ray chuckled. "Probably not. Hey, there's another plus for Chicago. Nobody's going to be asking you about that one there!"

"Thankfully true."

Ray lay back and cradled the phone between his ear and the pillow. He could almost see Fraser's blandly studied expression as he said those words, his eyebrows arching just a little, the tilt of his head. All those were old things - comfortable things; he'd spent close to twenty months with that blandness, those arched eyebrows, that tilt. Longer than that without them, but that was going to change.

He closed his eyes, then, and thought about the new things. Hair curling at the base of Fraser's neck, the slight softness beneath his chin, the patchy stubble on his jaw in the morning that could hardly be seen, but that Ray had touched with his fingertips, his cheek, his lips.

He shifted in the bed, stretched his arm out just a little, then a little more, almost as if he thought that if he just kept reaching out, he'd be able to touch Fraser somehow. But he felt nothing under his hand except the too-slick bedspread, and, God, that wasn't what he wanted to touch. He pulled his hand back, his fingers curled into a fist at his chest, but no matter how tightly he curled his hand, his arm - his body - he still felt empty. Cold.

"Ray?"

He sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. Sorry. I was . . . ."

"Are you all right?"

He almost said he was, but he hadn't let Fraser get away with 'fine' before, and he wasn't going to let himself get away with it now.

"No, not really."

"What's . . . ."

"Nothing, except you're not here."

"I miss you, too."

Fraser's voice was soft and too gentle, and Ray knew he was worrying him, but he didn't want to not say what he was feeling. And with his mouth, the words were going to come whether he wanted to say them or not.

"It's just . . . ." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. What was the matter with him? He'd gotten through the day okay. Through dinner with Aki and his friends. Hell, he'd gotten through the last two years just fine. Why was it so hard now? "It's just . . . I don't know what the hell's going on, Benton. I'm flipping out here or something. I really need to touch you."

God, he had to stop this before he started hyperventilating or some other dumbass thing that would probably freak Fraser out so much that he'd rethink this whole being-together deal. Stop it, Ray. Just stop it, for Christ's sake.

"Ray. Stop it," Fraser said, the words a weird echo of his own thoughts.

"Sorry. I'm . . . I didn't mean to . . ."

"Do something for me. Go get your bag."

"Okay," he said, shivering a little as he crawled out from under the covers. Why were hotel rooms always either too damned hot or too damned cold?

He put the phone down on his pillow and did as Fraser'd asked. He took the bag off the chair, dropped it down on the middle of the bed, then picked up the receiver again. "I'm back."

"Good." Fraser paused - long enough for Ray to start worrying if he was okay. "You . . . um . . . you said something earlier about . . . maybe this is a foolish suggestion, but . . . Ray, take my shirt out of your bag and put it on."

Automatically, Ray put the phone down and followed his instructions. He rummaged though his clothes, found the henley, and slid it over his head.

"Okay, I've got my security blanket," he said. "Now what?"

"Ray, I . . . I don't want you to think I'm treating you like a child. I just thought . . . ."

Great. Now he had Fraser worried about him and worried about trying to help. "Nah, it's good. Don't know why I didn't think of this myself. This is great."

"Really?" Fraser asked, disbelief plain in his voice.

"Yeah. I feel like Linus, but I also feel better." No lie there. He did feel better suddenly. Just being able to breathe in the scent that still clung to the shirt made it better, at least a little. "It's not as good as having you here with me, but . . . better, yeah. Thanks, Benton. What, are you psychic all of a sudden or something?"

"Not . . . exactly," he replied hesitantly. Ray could almost see that thumb rubbing at his eyebrow. "I'm afraid I had a similar need for your presence, and . . ."

"Benton? Did you just have to fight the wolf for my shirt?"

"Certainly not!"

"Fraser."

"There was no need to fight," Fraser sighed. "I've recently discovered that where Diefenbaker's concerned, if you just look miserable for long enough, eventually he'll demonstrate some compassion."

Ray got back under the covers, then lay his head down on the pillow and smiled. "Man. Playing for sympathy from a deaf half-wolf. That's kind of . . . well, it's kind of pathetic."

"You know, Ray," Fraser said in a blandly superior voice, "I think I'll refrain from sharing just how useful I find your assessment of 'pathetic' - and do you know why?"

Ray heard the undercurrent of amusement in his partner's voice and laughed. "Yeah, because you love me, right?"

"Precisely," Fraser said matter-of-factly. "Now, I think it's time we got some sleep, don't you?"

"I suppose. Still don't like being here without you though," Ray groused. "Being alone in Chicago until you can get things tied up here is going to be a bitch, you know?"

"I know," Fraser sighed. "I'm not looking forward to it any more than you are. However, there's no reason to borrow trouble. We'll be together tomorrow night, and after that . . . well, you know I'll do my best to speed things along at this end."

"You'd better," Ray said, stifling a yawn. "Okay, I'm just about wiped out. 'Night, Fraser." He reached over to switch off the lamp and, on impulse, pulled the spare pillow under the covers next to his body.

"Ray? Are you sleeping with a strange pillow? Is this something I should worry about?"

"You heard that? How the hell did you hear that?"

Fraser chuckled. "Good night, Ray."

"'Night."

He could hear Fraser hang up the phone. A minute later, the phone started making a really, really annoying sound, but Ray just put his hand over the earpiece and held the receiver tight against his chest as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The only thing that had made that first night alone bearable for Ray was the certainty that he and Fraser would be together again the next night. If Ray had known how long it was really going to be until he could see him, he might have taken a cue from Dief and just crawled into the back of Fraser's SUV and refused to get out.

In court Tuesday morning, Aki had passed Ray a message from Fraser saying that things were pretty slow in La Rouille and that he thought he'd be able to come down to Saskatoon that evening, but in the end, that proved impossible. Sometime in the early afternoon, a fight broke out between the parents of the visiting Prince Albert girl's hockey team and some of the local parents over a disputed call. What began with angry words soon escalated to screaming, punches being thrown, and finally a car being driven though the rink wall onto the ice, scattering players and officials alike and causing serious property damage. By three in the afternoon, the small La Rouille jail was packed to capacity, and Fraser had to give up on any chance of leaving town that night.

Travel advisories for the night aside, Ray really didn't mind the thought of driving all the way back to La Rouille, not when he knew he had Fraser waiting for him at the other end, but as the day went on, Ray grew more and more sure there was a plot to keep him in Saskatoon. Despite Aki's assurance that he'd be scheduled early in the day's proceedings, he was still waiting around to be called at four in the afternoon. First, the judge had been caught in traffic, delaying the start until almost noon. Then, when things did get going, one of the Canadian officials who'd been called to testify had to have his time moved up so that he could make a flight to Ottawa later that day. And finally, no more than five minutes after Ray took the stand, the courthouse's antiquated sprinkler system malfunctioned and flooded the courtroom, soaking all the participants and postponing Ray's testimony until 9:00 a.m. the following morning.

Aki was all apologies, but Ray knew it wasn't his fault. Sure, he was overseeing the case for the RCMP in Saskatoon, but he wasn't to blame for screwing up Ray's plans. There wasn't anyone to blame. Knowing that didn't make Ray feel any better about not getting another chance to be with Fraser before he had to head back to Chicago.

In the end, they were lucky to even get a chance to talk to each other. The early winter storm that had been threatening the northern end of the province finally hit with a vengeance at six in the evening, knocking out telephone service in the La Rouille region. Ray left his cell switched on when he went to sleep, hoping that Fraser would be able to get through, but the room was still apparently cell-proof. By the time Ray woke up the next morning the battery in his cell phone was dead from being left on all night.

It wasn't until Ray was already checked in at John G. Diefenbaker International Airport in Saskatoon and waiting for his flight when he got an opportunity to talk to Fraser, and even then it was just a too-short call with him huddled over a payphone next to the boarding gate. There were a million things he wanted to say to Fraser, but the blue-haired lady in the next booth was getting way too interested in his end of the conversation. She leaned closer and closer with each passing minute until he was about to ask her if she wanted him to send her a written transcript when he was finished.

Then the flight - the first one, the one to Minneapolis - was called, and Ray had to hang up without having said any of the things he'd wanted to say, although it probably wouldn't have made a lot of difference to the way he felt because talking was really pretty low down on the list of "Ways to Say Goodbye to the Person You Love."

* * *

"So he didn't make it after all?"

Fraser looked up from the report he was working on, pretending he didn't know what Sally meant. "'He?"

Her expression told him he wasn't fooling her. "Detective Kowalski."

"I'm sure he'll be here sometime today, but not for the initial ceremonies. There were some flight delays which impacted his arrival time."

"But he's coming?" Sally prodded, frowning a little.

"Yes. He had to stay in Prince Albert last night when they closed down the airport there and he was unable to complete his flight or find a rental vehicle."

Her frown cleared. "Okay. Good. That's good. Isn't it about time for you to change?"

Fraser smothered a smile. "As soon as I finish up this report, yes. Thank you for the reminder, though."

"No problem." She headed back out to the communications desk.

Fraser sighed, rolling his shoulders and glancing at his watch. It had been three weeks, two days, 10 hours, and 23 minutes since they'd parted in that parking lot in Weyakwin. As soon as he thought it, he smiled a little, shaking his head. Ray would no doubt ask why he hadn't counted the seconds, too. At some point in their lives, either he or Ray or both must have offended the gods of travel, as they seemed to be actively impeding their reunion. The peculiar mixture of anticipation and frustration he'd been feeling since Ray's last call the night before left his stomach vaguely unsettled and gave him a ache that seemed to center right between his eyes. He rubbed absently at the spot but it didn't help.

The first call from Ray the day before had come from Minneapolis, where snow had delayed his connecting flight for almost three hours. The second call had come from Saskatoon, where the shuttle flight he was supposed to take to La Rouille via Prince Albert had also been delayed, supposedly by half an hour. Three calls later that half hour had stretched out to two and a half. Finally Ray had called to tell him the flight was boarding and he'd see him in around an hour.

Forty-five minutes after that, he'd gotten yet another call, this time Ray sounding ready to kick someone in the head as he explained that he was stuck in Prince Albert because all flights in and out had been grounded due to high winds and low visibility and wouldn't resume until sometime late the following morning. He'd then launched into a rant about car-rental places that closed at six in the evening and how he was going to find out the name of the manager so he could go roust them out of bed to rent him a car to drive the rest of the way.

Fraser had reassured Ray that the elders would understand about the delay, and told him to get a room in Prince Albert for the night and just come up the next day whenever he could. Ray had grudgingly agreed, and they had commiserated for a few moments on the universal unfairness of the delay, until Ray's phone had run out of charge. Fraser had gone to bed to get some sleep, trying unsuccessfully to not think about what he might have been doing instead. Sleep had mostly evaded him, but he had drifted off sometime around three, and then been up at seven to take Dief out for a run, then shower, shave, dress, and polish his boots before going in to work.

He shook his head and focused on finishing his report, ignoring the soft knock on the molding next to his door for a moment as he concentrated. "Just a moment, I'll be right with you."

"'S'okay Benton. I'll just go steal some coffee."

Fraser stood up so fast he caught his knees on the underside of the pencil drawer because he'd forgotten to push his chair away from the desk. "Ouch, damn it!" he swore softly. "Ray!" he called after the figure retreating down the hall.

Ray turned, a broad smile lighting his face. "Done already?"

"You're here!" Fraser gasped, completely stunned.

Ray laughed softly. "Surprise."

"Indeed," Fraser managed, pulling Ray into a fierce hug. "God, it's good to see you!"

Ray hugged him back, and after a moment turned his head and planted a kiss right on Fraser's mouth. His lips were a little chapped, but the kiss was open and welcoming, a little slide of tongue sending a shiver through him. Fraser returned the kiss without hesitation, his fingers cupping the back of Ray's head, stroking his hair . The knot that had been sitting in his stomach for over three weeks finally loosened up. After a moment Fraser let him go and stepped back. "How on earth did you get here? Did they have an early flight?"

"Nah. Word was they wouldn't let anyone fly until at least noon, so Scotty Hughes drove me up from Prince Albert."

Fraser frowned. "Scott. . . you mean Prescott Hughes? The pilot?"

"Yeah, he was the one in the cockpit from Saskatoon to Prince Albert where we got grounded. He was going to swap out there with some other guy but we got to talking when we were stuck. I told him about my problem, the circle and all, and he said he had a hankering for Tilda's special caribou and turnip stew and said I could tag along if I wanted."

Fraser frowned, trying to make the timeline make sense. "But, Ray, that's at least a four hour drive under conditions like last night's!"

"Try six. Good thing Scotty knows the road. I'd never have made it on my own," Ray said rubbing his stubble, his fingers making a faint 'scritching' sound as he yawned.

"Six. . . but that means. . . ." his voice trailed off as he realized that Ray must have left Prince Albert not long after they had last spoken. Good God. They couldn't have done more than about twenty miles an hour the entire way.

"Yeah," Ray said, stretching. "Drove all night. White knuckled it most of the way. Well, I did anyway. Scotty was cool. Don't mind telling you I'm pretty fried though. I seriously need coffee." He started walking toward the coffee-station in the break room, and Fraser followed him. "So while I'm fueling up, tell me again about this sentencing circle thing, what exactly is it I'm supposed to say? Because I think I'm going to need cue cards or something to make sure I get it right. In my condition I shouldn't be left to ad-lib."

"Well, you won't have to say a lot actually. It's mostly up to Crawford and the elders, but he has to speak to everyone affected by his actions, ask forgiveness, and find out what he can do to make restitution."

"Hmm," Ray said, reaching for one of the clean mugs by the coffee pot and tipping the carafe over it. "That might be a bit of a problem, then, because really we ought to be thanking him. If it wasn't for him, we probably wouldn't have figured out what was up with us."

Fraser shot a glance at him, feeling a surge of warmth go through him as he nodded. "True enough, however I think that stating that might run counter to the intent of the circle so perhaps we can just make a statement about law and community that will suffice."

"Sounds good to me," Ray said, nodding. "How long does it last, this circle?"

"It's entirely up to the elders involved, but I'm guessing three or four hours at least."

Ray sighed. "Oh. Damn."

Fraser sighed too. "I know."

"But after that you've got until Tuesday morning off, right?"

"Right."

"Good. I hope you're provisioned up because after we're done here today, we are not leaving the house unless we have to," Ray said with a significant look.

The surge of warmth moved lower and intensified. "I believe you'll find the cupboards fully stocked," Fraser said huskily.

"Good." Ray graced him with a smile that did nothing to extinguish that warmth. "That's what I like to hear." He headed back toward Fraser's office, sipping his coffee. "Speaking of cupboards being stocked, you still got those Fig Newtons in your. . ." Ray pulled open Fraser's desk drawer and stopped, staring.

Fraser's face went hot. Good God. He completely forgotten to take the latest arrivals home on Friday. He started to push the drawer closed, but Ray beat him to it, reaching in to pull out the top three books, and lifted his eyes to Fraser's, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Um. . . should I even ask why you have three copies? I mean, one I get, hell, I have one myself. Picked it up in Boystown last week, but. . . three?"

Fraser thumbed his eyebrow. "It's a. . . an ongoing practical joke of sorts. They started appearing soon after you left."

Ray looked from the books in his hand, to Fraser, and his lips twitched. "Oh yeah?"

Fraser nodded. "Yeah."

Ray snickered.

"It's really not funny," Fraser said sternly, obviously trying not to smile either. "It's very unprofessional to get them at work. At home was bad enough."

"At home?" Ray asked, eyebrows climbing.

"At home," he confirmed with a sigh. "Amazon and UPS have apparently been doing a booming business in La Rouille of late, since this sort of book is not generally found at Chapters."

Fraser hadn't thought Ray's eyebrows could get any higher, but he was wrong.

"Booming? Just how many books are we talking about here, Benton?" Ray asked, clearly struggling with hilarity.

"Er. . . ." Fraser lowered his voice. "So far, four copies of 'The Joy of Gay Sex.' Six of 'The Gay Kama Sutra.' Five 'An. . .'" Unable to bring himself to finish that particular title while standing in his office, he coughed. "Well, in any case, five copies of a book written by a physician and published by a company with the quaint name of 'Good Vibrations,' and an assortment of other. . . instruction manuals."

"Instruc. . . ." Ray's control failed completely and he started giggling. Putting down his coffee to keep from spilling it as he groped for a chair and sat, putting his head down on Fraser's desk, laughing so hard he had his hands pressed against his stomach as if it hurt.

Fraser's own lips twitched, despite his resolve not to give in. A knock on the door frame brought his attention away from Ray and he saw Sally standing there watching them, a duffle bag in one hand and a garment bag in the other.

"You two better get moving if you're going to be on time," she said. "You've only got half an hour and he looks like something the cat dragged in. Here's your things, Mr. Kowalski."

Ray looked up at her, waving a hand weakly, trying to hide the titles of the books with the other one. Sally shot him a knowing look and Ray blushed, coughing a little as he fought to control his laughter. Fraser relieved her of Ray's luggage.

"Thank you, Sally. We'll manage from here. Ray, do you want to use the men's room to freshen up?"

Ray nodded, reaching for his coffee and taking a gulp. "God," he said after swallowing. "Sorry about losing it there. I'm punchy. I've got my good suit in the bag, but do I have time to shave and work on the hair?"

"I think so, if we're quick, though you'll have to share the lavatory with me as I need to change as well."

Ray chortled. "We go in there together and everyone in the building is gonna be outside with a glass against the door."

"Nonsense," Fraser said, though he wasn't entirely sure Ray was wrong. "They're professionals. And so are we."

Ray sighed. "Spoilsport. But yeah. Okay." He took a last sip of his coffee and then stood up. "Pitter patter, Benton."

Fraser reached behind the door to get his own garment bag off the hook there, and Ray took back his duffel, opening it to get out his shaving kit, and then left the larger bag on the chair next to Fraser's desk as he followed him to the men's lavatory. Hanging both their suit carriers from a pipe, Fraser started unbuttoning his tunic as Ray stationed himself in front of the sink and got out a razor and shaving cream and started to lather up. Fraser shrugged out of the blue tunic and then unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off as well, leaving on just the a-shirt beneath it. As he started to unfasten his belt and unzip his pants, something made him look up to meet Ray's gaze in the mirror. Ray smiled, and he felt himself warm at the appreciation clearly reflected in his expression.

"Wow, Fraser. You look good. I can't believe I didn't notice. You get a haircut or something?"

Automatically Fraser's fingers went to his considerably shortened locks. "Yes, actually. Lana did it for me. She said she was tired of bringing Crawford in to see me and having to look at my hair."

Ray lifted an eyebrow. "Isn't that bribery or something?"

"No, since I paid her the going rate to do it."

"That works. Looks really good. She's got talent. Of course, it's pretty much impossible for you to look bad so it's kind of like cheating but still." Ray gave one last appreciative look, then turned his attention back to his shaving.

If it had been anyone else saying those words, Fraser might have doubted their sincerity. He'd never been particularly vain, but over the past few weeks he'd had reason to think about his appearance, and despite having taken some necessary steps toward countering the bad habits he'd adopted since leaving Chicago, he was still out of shape. However, he knew Ray meant what he said, and that never failed to warm him

It should have been difficult to reconcile both his own highly critical self-assessment of, and Ray's open admiration for his looks, but oddly, it no longer was, perhaps because he now understood that Ray's appreciation of his appearance was a result of his love for him, and not the reverse. As the proverb went, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder.' More than one person had expressed a negative opinion of Ray's appearance during the course of their partnership, while he had never found Ray anything but attractive. Disturbingly so, at times.

After a moment Fraser realized he was just standing there watching Ray shave, so he finished undressing, got out his dress uniform, and pulled on the jodhpurs, tucking his undershirt in neatly. He hesitated for a moment and resisted the urge to suck in his stomach as he grasped the waistband and went to do up the button, then he set his jaw and pulled the edges in. The fabric strained a bit, but the button went into its buttonhole and held, and the waistband didn't cut into his waist too badly. He zipped up and reached for the tunic, shrugging into it. It was still a little tight across the shoulders and upper arms, but the buttons fastened without gapping between each one, and the tunic lay mostly smoothly across his chest and stomach.

A tiny sigh of relief escaped him, and he got out his lanyard and the dress belt. Ray finished shaving and rinsed his face, dried off with a paper towel, then straightened and looked at Fraser.

"Hey! Haven't seen that in a long time! Thought you said you couldn't wear it?"

Fraser felt his face go hot. "I couldn't, when we spoke about it on the phone three weeks ago. But I felt I should wear it today to honor the solemnity of the occasion and so I asked Constable Zhertak to assist me in a developing a training regimen. Since he's unmarried but living in quarters designed for a family, he's converted the spare bedroom into a gym of sorts with a bow-flex, treadmill, and free weights."

"And you did it. Like there was any doubt. Still, congratulations!"

"I must admit that I found it necessary to reposition the buttons slightly."

"Whatever works," Ray said with a wink, then his grin suddenly faded to a frown. "Hey, wait. You been working out with Zhertak? At his place?"

"Yes," Fraser answered, puzzled by Ray's reaction. "He's been very helpful."

"Oh yeah. I bet he has. I've seen those infomercials too, you know. Guy working out on that flex thing with nothing on but skimpy shorts so everyone can ogle."

The light dawned. Fraser smiled gently. "Ray, there's nothing to worry about. If anything I've put a crimp in Bose's social life, as he's been spending a good deal of time with me when he would otherwise have been out with Darlene or Amelia."

"Sure he would. I'm telling you, he's after your ass," Ray said darkly.

"He's not, Ray, I assure you. And in any case I was fully clothed during all of our workouts and he never once touched me inappropriately. And whether or not he was, you can trust me," he said earnestly, trying to assuage Ray's discomfort.

Ray opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head with a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I know. I know I can trust you. Have since the day we met. I just have a little trouble understanding how anyone can keep their hands off you." He reached out and let his hands rest on Fraser's hips.

Fraser closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Ray's hands even through layers of heavy wool. He lifted a hand to touch Ray's lips with his fingers for a moment before dropping his hand to Ray's shoulder, sighing. "The feeling is mutual, however, we've got seventeen minutes before we need to be at City Hall."

Ray groaned and stepped back. "Right. Right, I knew that." He turned away ostentatiously and looked at the mirror. "Man, six hours under a toque gives a guy seriously depressed hair. Think I can salvage this?" he asked, fingering his very flat hair.

"I have every confidence in you," Fraser assured him.

* * *

"What are the chances we could get something like this going in Chicago?" Ray asked, watching Crawford where he sat, his face still blotchy from crying, talking with Nancy and Todd Stevensen after the circle had concluded.

"I'm not sure," Fraser answered. "I know it's been attempted in the States before, in Minnesota I believe. But I didn't know there were a lot of aboriginal youth in Chicago."

"There's a few. But I was kind of wondering if there's any way to adapt it for inner-city kids. The whole victim-impact thing is really good, so is the fact that the offender has to take responsibility for his actions, and work in the community to make restitution. Plus I liked that part where nobody else gets to say anything until you're done. No stupid 'objections' and 'overruleds' you know?"

Fraser smiled. "The Crown Prosecutor did seem to be having a bit of a hard time with that. She's new to the area and this was her first sentencing circle, but all things considered she didn't handle it too badly. In any case, I really don't know if there's any potential for attempting a similar community justice partnership program in Chicago, but we can see for ourselves once we're settled."

Ray nodded, his gaze still resting thoughtfully on Crawford. "Yeah. Maybe Louise St. Laurent would be willing to help out. She's been working with the juvenile program lately.

"It's worth talking about," Fraser said, taking the opportunity to really study Ray without risking another elbow in the side from Hannah Moss.

Clean-shaven, with his hair acceptably un-depressed, wearing an unfamiliar navy suit, crisp ivory shirt and navy tie, Ray looked marvelous, even if the circles under his eyes and the slightly pinched look of his face betrayed the fact that he was tired. Though as far as Fraser was concerned Ray had looked equally marvelous prior to grooming and changing, but still, since Ray had been placed almost directly across from him in the seating arrangements, it had been hard not to just stare at him through the entire four hours and forty-six minutes of the proceedings. Hannah had elbowed him three different times in order to get his attention focused on the person speaking instead of Ray. Of course, every time he got elbowed, Ray had been looking back at him, so it hadn't been entirely his fault.

He'd suspected they might have a little trouble along those lines when Ray returned. It was why they had planned for Ray to come in a half-day early, so they could get some of that out of their systems before the circle. Unfortunately, November weather in Saskatchewan rarely cooperated with plans of any sort, and theirs had been no exception. His gaze rested on the line of Ray's jaw, remembering what it felt like against his lips. . . An elbow caught him in the ribs and he coughed and turned to find Hannah standing next to him, her dark eyes alight with amusement.

"Put your tongue back in your mouth young man. Don't you know this is a solemn occasion?"

Face burning, Fraser nodded. "Yes, it is. I'm terribly sor . . ."

Hannah smacked him on the arm. "I'm teasing you, Benton, you look all you want now that the serious part's over. But that's not what I wanted to talk about. So you're really leaving us?"

"Yes, I am," Fraser admitted. "I'm returning to Chicago to work in the new permanent RCMP liaison office under development there."

"Got both your old job and your old partner back, then? That's good. We'll miss you, but I think you'll be happier there." She looked at Ray, then back at Fraser, and winked. "No, I know you will."

Fraser couldn't help but smile. "Thank you. I suspect you're right. I'm afraid I got acclimated to the pace there."

"That happens," Hannah said sagely. "I was talking to Arden Traynor earlier, she said your replacement is coming in on Monday, and that she doesn't figure the new guy'll be half as good as you."

"I'm sure that's not true. Sergeant Carol is an excellent officer, I had occasion to work briefly with her when I first arrived in Chicago and took her place there." Fraser almost smiled, remembering how then-Constable Carol had berated him for doing precisely that, though her meaning had been vastly different.

"Her?"

Fraser nodded. "Yes. Sergeant LeeAnne Carol. She's transferring in from Red Deer."

Ray turned at that, putting a hand on Fraser's shoulder. "The detachment's going from a CO with two last names to one with two first names?" he asked with a grin. "What are the odds, I wonder? And speaking of odds, what are the odds of getting something to eat anytime soon? I haven't had anything but coffee since lunch in Saskatoon yesterday."

Fraser was surprised. He wished Ray had said something earlier, he'd have given him something out of the break-room refrigerator in the detachment if he'd known. No wonder he looked tired and a bit out of sorts.

"Yesterday?" Hannah said, sounding appalled. "Benton, take him home and feed him, right now. You hear me?" She made shooing motions with her hands.

Fraser bit the inside of his lip, trying not to smile. "Yes, ma'am." He turned to Ray. "Shall we go?"

Ray smiled gratefully. "I'm all over that."

They left the City Hall together, and Ray headed across the street to the detachment to get his bags out of Fraser's office while Fraser went to the trading post and rounded up Diefenbaker from Don Robinson who'd kept an eye on him during the sentencing circle. Fraser let Dief into the Suburban, got in and started the engine, expecting Ray to be right out, so when Ray hadn't reappeared several minutes later, he turned off the engine again and got out, walking toward the detachment. Just before he got there, Ray finally came out, looking decidedly embarrassed. Fraser fell into step beside him.

"Is anything wrong? What took so long?"

"I, um. . . had to assure Sally that my intentions were honorable. Are you sure she's a civilian? The way she grilled me she'd make a hell of an interrogator."

"I'm sure, though lately she's been making noises about possibly applying to become a member. Give me your bag and I'll put it in the back."

Ray surrendered his duffel without protest, and shook his head. "Well, if she goes for it I'd write her a recommendation. She'd make a good cop, "

"I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

They reached the Suburban, where Dief was inside going noisily crazy as he watched them approach.

"Hey! Dief! Long time, no see!" Ray said as he stuck his fingers through the two inch gap at the top of the window. Dief licked them happily as Fraser went around and put Ray's bags in the back, then got in on the driver's side and leaned across to unlock Ray's door. Ray paused a moment before opening the door, giving Diefenbaker a stern look. "You got your licking quota in already, so my ears are off limits, okay?"

Dief grumbled but curled up in the back seat with a little sigh, his chin on his paws. Ray opened the door and got in. Moments later they were on the road, heading toward Fraser's house. Ray leaned back in his seat with a yawn. "God. Long two days. Sorry about all the screwups, Benton. Wish things had worked out better."

"Me too. In fact, I was beginning to understand that whole 'dying of waiting' concept," Fraser confessed ruefully.

Ray laughed. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

"It does indeed." Fraser decided it was time to change the subject. "How was your trip? Well, aside from the last part, which I know about already."

Ray made a disgusted face. "Oh man, you do not want to know. First I slept like crap night before last, up every hour to look at the clock 'cause I was afraid I'd oversleep. Then I finally did fall asleep about ten minutes before I had to get up to make the flight. Then there was this kid behind me, maybe a year old, did not want to be there at all. Howled the entire time. Gave me a splitting headache, which still hasn't completely let up."

"I suspect that's partially dehydration. There's a first-aid kit under the passenger seat, aspirin included, and you'll find several unopened bottles of water behind my seat."

"Fraser, you are a god. Don't ever let anyone tell you different."

"Surely only a demi-god," Fraser demurred as Ray dug out the first-aid kit and found the aspirin, then reached behind the seat to get a bottle of water. After downing several of the white tablets, he finished off the bottle of water in several long swallows, and then rolled his neck.

"Thanks. That should help."

"I hope so." Fraser reached forward and slipped a tape into the cassette deck. A moment later the haunting sound of aboriginal flute music drifted from the speakers.

Ray's lips quirked upward. "You into that New Age stuff?"

"I find this particular tape soothing. Hannah gave it to me."

Ray listened for a few moments, and then yawned widely. "Yeah. Soothing."

Fraser reached over with one hand and gripped the back of Ray's neck, massaging firmly. Ray groaned, dropping his head forward, offering more of his neck to Fraser's fingers. Fraser continued his massage for a few moments. Ray yawned again. When Fraser let him go and put his hand back on the steering wheel, Ray sighed and settled into his seat, leaning back against the headrest, eyes closed. Fraser concentrated on driving, letting Ray rest his eyes. He remembered Ray saying he'd slept badly, and suspected that by 'badly' he meant 'not at all.'

School was letting out just as they reached it, and Fraser stopped for several minutes to let a large group of children cross the road. He was fairly certain that they were taking an inordinate amount of time doing so simply because of his presence. They were gawking at the vehicle, no doubt wishing he would turn on the lightbar and siren. Glancing over at Ray, he saw he was clearly asleep, leaning a little toward Fraser, lips slightly parted. Fraser moistened his own lips, then shook his head and rolled his eyes at that near-Pavlovian response. A moment later he heard a snuffling sound and he turned to see Dief straining forward to nuzzle at Ray's hair. Ray twitched a little and waved a hand as if he were shooing away a fly. Fraser frowned at Dief and shook his head. Dief slunk back with a grumble and lay back down.

Once the children were clear of the crosswalk he accelerated, slowly, so as not to startle Ray awake. Within seconds, though, he again found himself looking at Ray instead of the roadway. Annoyed, he forced himself to stop. As if that were his cue, Dief was up and nuzzling again. Ray stirred slightly, and Fraser reached back awkwardly with one hand to push Dief away. Dief growled. Fraser growled back, albeit softly, baring his teeth. Dief, after a moment of comically brow-furrowed surprise, gave ground and resumed his place on the back seat with a little huff, pointedly not looking at Fraser. Fraser grinned, even though he knew it was silly to feel smug over getting the last word with Dief for once.

He managed to resist the temptation to look at Ray again until he'd pulled into his own driveway and parked. "We're home, Ray."

Ray opened his eyes instantly, blinking a little, confused, until he saw Fraser and smiled. "Oh. Okay. Home. Cool. Food?"

"Food," Fraser confirmed. "And then bed."

Ray chuckled. "A little anxious?"

"To see you get some rest, yes."

"I'm good. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not worried. I just prefer you fed and rested. I know from experience you're much less cranky that way."

Ray cackled and stretched. "True enough." He opened the door and got out, then let Dief out of the back. "Someone's on their best behavior today," he said with a nod at Dief.

"Only because I threatened him." Fraser said, getting out as well, and walking around to retrieve Ray's bags from the back.

"Whatever works," Ray said. "So what have you got food-wise that's fast?"

"We could have soup, or sandwiches, or both."

"A sandwich would be good. Got any window putty?" Ray asked with a wink, following Fraser up to the door.

"I'm terribly sorry, I completely neglected to get any at the store the other day," Fraser said, opening the door. "I do have roast beef, turkey breast, and tuna salad, though."

Ray sighed exaggeratedly. "I suppose I'll have to make do. But your rep for proper preparation just took a major hit, you know."

"I'll just have to make up for it in other arenas. Help yourself to whatever you like in the refrigerator, I'll put your bags in the bedroom.

"Other arenas, huh?" Ray asked suggestively. "Been reading those instruction manuals have you?"

Fraser paused in the doorway to the living room, turning to look back at Ray. "As a matter of fact, yes."

The sound of Ray's laughter followed Fraser through the living room and down the hallway, and when he reached the bedroom, his own laughter, slightly manic, bubbled up suddenly, leaving him almost lightheaded by the time he could finally draw a breath.

"Hey, Fraser!" Ray called from the other room. "Everything okay in there?"

"Everything's fine, Ray!" he called back automatically, although he was still having a surprisingly hard time getting his breathing back under control. "I'll be out in a moment!"

Still laughing, he placed Ray's duffle bag on top of the shorter of the two maple dressers, then carried the garment bag over to the closet and began to slide his own clothing to the side to make room for Ray's things. He wondered which side of the closet Ray would prefer, whether the right or the left would be more convenient. Or perhaps Ray might like his bag unpacked? He really should have asked Ray for his suit jacket while he was in the other room. The jacket would surely do better placed on a wooden coat hanger and hung up neatly in the closet than it would do tossed over the back of an old kitchen chair. Should he go back in the other room and get it? Perhaps Diefenbaker would bring it in if he asked poli . . . Fraser's laughter, which had come to a halt only a moment ago, returned in full force. He wanted Diefenbaker to fetch Ray's jacket? Was he unhinged?

"Hey."

He turned around to find Ray standing in the doorway to the bedroom, jacket slung over his shoulder.

"Good boy!" Fraser said encouragingly. "Bring me the jacket."

"Um, Fraser?" Ray said worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Was he? It was difficult to know for certain, and the look of confusion on Ray's face wasn't helping any; all it was doing, in fact, was making him laugh harder. Without knowing quite how he was able to accomplish the feat, he hooked the garment bag over the closet door and then collapsed in a fit of helpless giggles on the bed.

The next thing he knew, Ray was on the bed beside him with one arm wrapped around his waist and his other hand stroking his hair.

"Hey, Benton," Ray asked quietly. "Any particular reason you're flipping out here?"

"I'm not . . ." He looked up and saw the clear disbelief in Ray's eyes. "Well, maybe I am, just a little. I was . . . I was hanging your bag in the closet and . . ." He took a deep breath, bringing a halt to his now teary-eyed laughter by sheer force of will.

Ray glanced over in the direction of the open closet door and sighed. "Started to feel a little claustrophobic, huh? Yeah, I get that. Like . . . Stella moving out was the same thing in reverse. I took a look at all the empty space in the closet and started feeling all . . . what is it? Arachnophobic?"

Fraser turned his head and stifled a laugh against Ray's sleeve. "Are you thinking of agoraphobia?"

"Yeah, that's it. Anyway, it was just a whole lot of emptiness in the closet - sort of like a symbol for my whole life back then, you know? So I get it if you're feeling a little crowded." Ray looked toward the hallway, then back at Fraser. "I can put my stuff in the other room if you want."

"No, don't!" Fraser shook his head. "That's not what . . . I'm not feeling claustrophobic."

Ray propped himself up on his elbow. "You got any clue what's up, then?"

"I think I'm just . . . nervous, Ray."

"About being with me?"

"Not about being with you, precisely, but . . . about being with anyone. I've . . . I've never really lived with anyone, apart from my family, of course, but that was when I was a child, and in any case, this is . . ."

"This is different."

"Yeah. And I don't want to . . . ." He rolled over on the bed and faced Ray. "I really don't want to screw this up."

Ray shook his head, then leaned over and kissed Fraser once, gently, before sitting up on the bed. "We don't want to screw this up."

We. Of course. Fraser was trying to think of a way to tell Ray he understood, and appreciated that inclusion, when an odd rustling noise made him lift his head and look toward the door, and instantly he started to laugh again as he saw Dief.

Puzzled, Ray craned around to look too. "What the. . . ." he began as Diefenbaker came up to the bed, a bag full of french rolls held in his teeth. Dief nudged Fraser's arm and placed the bag on the bed. beside them. Ray looked from the bag to Dief to Fraser, perplexed. "What's this all about?"

"Diefenbaker is not-so-subtly reminding me that I'm remiss in my duties. I believe he feels I'm supposed to feed you before we end up in bed."

"Like one of those St. Bernard's with the brandy?" Ray asked, chuckling. "Well, you're definitely a lifesaver, Dief. My stomach thanks you."

He started to open the bag and extract a roll, but Fraser sat up and reached to stop him. "No, you need more than just a roll. Come on, it won't take but a minute or two to prepare sandwiches, and probably less than that to eat them if I know you."

Ray grinned. "Okay, up and at 'em." He slid off the bed and stood up, holding the bag of rolls in one hand and reaching the other out toward Fraser. "Let's go fuel up." Ray lifted his eyebrows suggestively

Fraser took Ray's outstretched hand and let himself be pulled up off the bed.

As he'd guessed, it took them barely two minutes to fix their meal, although rather more time than he'd estimated for Ray to eat the sandwiches he'd made for himself. He'd finished a turkey sandwich and had started to make serious inroads on the roast beef when he looked over at Fraser's plate with its serving of tuna salad.

"Is that all you're having? You didn't even have a roll."

Fraser glanced over at the open bag, then shook his head. "Yes. This is plenty. You look like you could still do with more, though." He got up from the table and opened the refrigerator door. "I took the liberty of paying a visit to Tilda's last night and picking up one of her tarts."

"This the same kind that Diefenbaker scarfed down the last time I was here?"

Fraser nodded, unaccountably embarrassed by the memory of that morning. He put the tart and a bowl of whipped cream on the table, then cut a slice of the dessert and placed it on a plate in front of Ray before sitting back down.

"Looks great!" Ray said, putting a dollop of cream on his serving. Then he looked over at Fraser and frowned. "Aren't you having any? Tilda said this was your favorite."

Fraser shifted uncomfortably. "It is, but I don't need any at the moment."

Ray snorted. "Having dessert every once in awhile isn't a need kind of thing. Nobody needs dessert." He slapped the palms of his hands on the table, pushed himself up from his chair, and started to walk out of the kitchen. "I've got an idea. Follow me."

"Ray?"

"Come on, Benton," Ray called in a slightly muffled voice from the living room. "And bring the plate with you."

Fraser glanced over at Diefenbaker, but the wolf looked just as perplexed as he felt.

"Should I just play along?"

Diefenbaker yipped once, encouragingly, before curling up on the rug by the sink and closing his eyes. Fraser stood up, quickly put the remainder of the tart back in the refrigerator, then picked up Ray's plate from the table.

He walked into the living room. No Ray, but there was a trail of discarded clothing - tie, shirt, trousers, socks, briefs - leading through the room and down the hallway to his bedroom. His pulse began to pick up in anticipation. Stopping in the doorway, plate still in hand, he looked over to find his blankets draped over a chair, and a grinning and quite naked Ray sprawled across the bed.

"Found me, eh?"

Fraser smiled. "Taunt a Mountie, and he'll track you to the ends of the earth."

Ray laughed, then rolled over onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "Or at least the bedroom. Okay, so here's the game plan . . .

"You have a plan?"

"I do. A man with a plan, that's me."

"And my part in this plan would be . . . ?"

"Your part involves getting naked, while I'm . . . here, hand me the plate. You'll see my part of the plan as it unfolds. All will be revealed," Ray said mysteriously.

Fraser handed the plate over and began to remove his clothes as Ray had asked. He knelt to remove his boots and socks, slid his braces off his shoulders, then unbuttoned his jodhpurs and stood to step out of them along with his boxers, face going a little hot. Finally he unbuttoned his henley, but hesitated a moment before pulling his shirt over his head.

He told himself that his unaccustomed self-consciousness was irrational, but it was difficult to ignore his embarrassing lack of condition entirely, despite believing that Ray's appreciation for both his mind and body was quite real. Feeling foolish, he took a deep breath and took the shirt off, resisting the urge to suck in his stomach before turning around. What he saw when he looked at Ray would have made any attempt to hold his breath useless in any case.

Ray was laying on his back again, but now his torso was covered with the ingredients of Tilda's tart. Custard coated his chest and mid-section while berries ringed his nipples and navel.

Swamped by both arousal and hilarity, Fraser began to laugh. "Ray? You're . . . um . . ."

"Just think of me as a big serving tray. I thought this might give you an incentive to indulge a little." He dragged a finger through some of the custard and then licked it off before shooting a flirtatious look at Fraser. "Did it work?"

He cleared his throat. "I think I can safely say it would be hard to resist anything served so appealingly."

"Yeah?" Ray grinned. "Then what are you doing all the way over there? Come and get it, Benton."

Fraser took a step, then paused, feigning confusion. "I'm not at all certain this is the same dessert I brought in. Something's missing."

"Oh yeah. Almost forgot. . ." Ray reached over to the plate and scooped the whipped cream up in his hand, then slathered it on his penis. "Whoa! This stuff's kind of cold. Want to give me a hand warming it up a little?"

Fraser smiled. "I think I can offer more than a hand, Ray," he said, crawling across the bed.

Ray stretched his arms out and grinned. "Have at it."

Still on his hands and knees, Fraser lowered his head to Ray's chest and started to suck gently on one of Ray's nipples.

"I. . . uh, think you're missing the good stuff, Benton."

"I'll get to it, Ray," he murmured, raising his head slightly. "This is . . . this is the good stuff."

"Mmm. Yeah. That's good stuff, all right," Ray moaned, writhing a little as Fraser's tongue teased each nipple in turn. "Oh man, do that again."

Fraser licked a path up Ray's chest, then tilted his head up until their eyes met. "You know, I don't recall any dessert ever telling me what to do before."

Ray grinned. "Yeah, well . . . you just never met the right one before."

With the small corner of his brain he'd set aside for thinking about anything other than the way Ray's skin tasted beneath the sweetness of the custard and the tart bite of the berries, Fraser acknowledged how apt those words were. He never had met the right one before.

He'd spent so many years alone, but each time he'd come close to allowing another person to get close - rare though those times had been - he'd always felt an undercurrent of sheer wrongness, to use Ray's expression. Even if he were to take Victoria out of the picture - although forgetting her wasn't something he'd ever be likely to accomplish entirely - he still couldn't come up with a single instance of a relationship in which he had anything resembling the connection he'd found with Ray. Either he held too much of himself back, which ensured that forging a true partnership would be all but impossible, or - as he'd done with Victoria - he allowed so much of who he really was to be submerged in the other person's needs and desires that in short order, he was no longer able to recognize himself.

But with Ray, he always knew exactly who he was. In fact, he'd come to recognize that he was more himself - more the man he had always believed himself to be and had always wanted to be - when he was with Ray than when he was without him. And being that man made it possible for him to be the kind of person who had something to give back to a lover. Not just something, but everything. In fact, some of his best traits were focus and perseverance, and he could apply both now.

As Fraser worked his way down Ray's body, he suspected he was getting more of the tart on his skin than in his mouth, but the way Ray was arching beneath him was a clear indication that what he was doing was more than acceptable. He lifted his head a moment and looked at the mess he was making of himself, Ray, and the bed, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. All he was really interested in was seeing if he could use his tongue to remove the single Saskatoonberry that had rolled into Ray's navel.

"Hey!" Ray giggled, curling in slightly, sending most of the remaining berries sliding off onto the sheets.

"Ticklish?" Fraser asked.

"Of course not," he said with a wink, still laughing. "Just wondering if you were planning on getting around to the whipped cream sometime this century."

Fraser looked down at Ray's groin and bit back a smile. "You know, it'd be a shame for you to miss out on this fresh whipped cream when you've already foregone your share of the tart."

"So you got a solution to that little dilemma? 'Cause I'm telling you, Benton, there's no way I'm limber enough to do that taste test."

Fraser closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shake the mental image of Ray making the attempt, and what should have looked silly instead looked. . . erotic. "A pity," he said huskily. "But I think I may have a solution." Fraser reached out and took half the cream from Ray's body, then, flushing slightly, spread it on himself. Ray was right, it was cold, and along with the slight physical discomfort came the certainty that he'd never looked so foolish in all his life. But maybe letting yourself look foolish was part of what relationships were all about. "As someone once said, 'partners is sharing.'"

Ray chuckled at that. For a moment Fraser sat, indecisive, then he turned around and stretched out next to him with his head near Ray's knees. The action was executed a little more awkwardly than he'd imagined he'd do when he'd played out this scenario in his imagination over the past weeks. He looked up to see Ray's eyes widen in surprise, and he swallowed hard, hoping he was correct in assuming Ray knew what he had in mind because he was suddenly feeling less than articulate.

"You really have been paying attention to those books, haven't you?" Ray asked, rubbing his hand lightly across his own stomach, his voice a husky whisper.

Fraser frowned, wondering if Ray thought he was completely untried. "I didn't need a book for this. I'm not entirely without experience, and . . ."

"Really?" Ray looked surprised.

"Really, what? Are you referring to my experience with mutual . . . with this? Well, it wasn't precisely the same since she . . ." He was starting to feel something close to exasperation. "Do I need to furnish a resume?"

"No, I didn't mean that. . . I meant . . . oh, man. . . ." Ray started to laugh, shaking his head.

"What's so funny?" Fraser asked, a little lost.

"You. Me. Something." Ray said, still laughing. "Never mind. Sixty-Nine, huh? Maybe you'd better let me read one of those books of yours."

Fraser eyed him, puzzled. Was it possible that Ray was even less familiar with this than he was? It hardly seemed likely. "Well," he said hesitantly, "if you'd like to wait until you've read up on this particular configuration, we could certainly . . ."

"No, no!" Ray shook his head vigorously. "I'm good. It's just that we never . . . I mean, it never really worked very well with Stella, she was too short. . . and um, I'm just going to shut up now," Ray said, turning red.

Oh. Fraser had finally got the picture. More of a picture than he actually wanted. He tried to think of a way to distract Ray from those thoughts. . . yes. He had it. "Right. Well, then," he said, starting to grin, "a quick lesson is probably what's called for right now. I want you to think of your mouth as a flower that opens by day and then closes down at night. All right?"

Ray laughed. "You're a freak, you know that? But I like that in a guy." He scooted down on the bed, positioning himself so that he could slide his arm beneath Fraser's waist and pull them closer together. "Huh," he said after a moment. "This is a little weird. I sort of miss being able to get to your mouth. Guess I'll have to find something else to kiss," he said with a chuckle.

Fraser shivered as he felt the first brush of Ray's tongue licking at some of the whipped cream smeared between his hip and his belly. He took a quick indrawn breath, tensing automatically when Ray moved his head and his hair brushed against the tip of his penis.

"Come on, Benton," Ray murmured against the soft skin of his belly, his hands firm on Fraser's hips, fingers stroking the small of his back. "Relax, okay? I've got you."

Fraser took a deep breath, then slid his arm beneath Ray's leg and rested his cheek on the lightly-furred thigh. As the tension eased slowly out of his body, he turned to taste the smoother skin of Ray's inner thigh.

"Mmm, nice," Ray said softly, rubbing a thumb along the base of Fraser's spine. "Like that. I like us . . . like this. God, I've wanted you. Wanted this."

"So have I, Ray." He tightened his hold on Ray's thigh, then turned his face toward the soft dark blond curls at Ray's groin, catching the musky scent beneath the lingering aroma of whipped cream.

He leaned in closer, breathed deeply, wishing he could surround himself completely in the scent and taste and touch of Ray. He rubbed the side of his face against Ray's groin, mindless of the whipped cream smearing his face, then raised his head slightly, closed his eyes, and brushed his chin along the hard length of Ray's erection.

Ray shuddered and groaned, and then shifted a hand to push Fraser's thighs apart. He felt a sudden shock as Ray started to nibble gently at the base of his own penis. God! There was something frighteningly erotic about that gentle skim of teeth in such a vulnerable place, knowing he should be afraid but trusting Ray too much to muster any fear, and aching for more. He'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted to feel Ray's mouth around him right then - except perhaps for the desire to take Ray's penis in his own mouth. He angled his head slightly, almost panting, needing to know the taste and texture and weight of Ray's cock, but he held back another moment, letting the tease of anticipation intensify his own arousal.

Finally he let his lips brush against Ray's erection, sliding his mouth sideways along the hard length of it. The sweetness of melting whipped cream overwhelmed his senses first, but was fast overcome by the clean, slightly salty flavor of Ray's skin. Just as his tongue reached the tip of Ray's cock, his own penis was engulfed in the warm, wet heat of Ray's mouth. He gasped, losing contact as sensation swamped him, fighting the urge to thrust. He breathed through it, and after a moment the insistence faded a little, the warm pull of Ray's mouth on his aching cock becoming a sensual background of pleasure as he took the head of Ray's cock in his mouth.

Ray moaned around him, and the vibration sent shivers through him. Wanting to duplicate the experience for Ray, he tongued the sensitive spot below his glans and hummed. Ray clutched at his back, and the suction around him intensified as Ray swallowed convulsively, breathing hard through his nose. Taking that as a positive response, he kept licking and sucking and occasionally humming until his jaw started to ache and he was getting a little lightheaded. Reluctantly he let Ray slide from his mouth and lifted his head to take a deep breath.

Taking advantage of the moment, Ray let go of him and rolled over onto his back, tugging until Fraser was all but blanketing him. Instinctively Fraser tried to balance on his knees and elbows, not wanting to let all his weight settle on Ray, but Ray wasn't having any of that. He wound his arms around Fraser's hips and pulled him down. Once Ray began to brush his lips along the length of his shaft again, he couldn't for the life of him remember why he had ever wanted to be anywhere but right where he was.

They were so closely matched in height that all he had to do was lower his head to kiss the soft skin below Ray's left hipbone, tasting a faint trace of whipped cream there. He wanted more. More of Ray. He pressed gently against one of Ray's knees with one hand until Ray took the hint and let his legs fall open, drawing his knees up, giving Fraser complete access. Eagerly he licked a path down the crease of Ray's right thigh, nuzzling crisp curls and soft skin, chasing hints of vanilla and honey and Ray. He sucked and nibbled at the soft weight of his testicles, until Ray moaned, his sucking and licking at Fraser's erection faltering.

He still wanted more. Frustrated, he slid his hands under Ray and urged his hips upward, his knees outward, and curled around until . . . yes. . . there, he could chase the slick sweetness of liquified whipped cream down to the root of his cock, lick there, suck there. Ray's moans seemed to turn a little desperate, his cock tracing wet trails against Fraser's throat and shoulder as he thrust erratically. Fraser braced an elbow on the bed and cupped one of Ray's buttocks, his thumb pressing firmly into the smooth span below his cock as he worked his other hand up under his chin so he could wrap his fingers around Ray's cock.

It was awkward as hell but worth the effort, as Ray jerked and shuddered, the movement making Fraser's hand slide against skin smeared with residual whipping cream. His thumb brushed across the small aperture between Ray's cheeks. Ray gasped, hips moving in a fluid surge, first pushing his cock hard into Fraser's hand, then pushing down against his probing thumb. A surge of heat exploded through Fraser as weeks worth of late-night reading and desperation brought fevered images to his brain. "Oh God," he gasped, his whole body tense with the effort of not coming.

"So good," Ray rasped, breathless.

"Can I?" Fraser asked, unable to summon words for anything more complex.

"Anything," Ray said, pushing down against his hand again. "Anything you want."

He wanted everything. But he couldn't have it. . . at least not all at once. He had time, he reminded himself. They had time. Days of time, uninterrupted, to learn each other, to enjoy each other, to love each other. And time after that, maybe not so uninterrupted, but time with no foreseeable cut off. Forever - as much of forever there ever was for a finite being. No reason to rush. But oh, he wanted. He wanted. Everything. Shifting over to one side, he turned once more, sliding down to the foot of the bed, his shoulders between Ray's thighs. Once in place he returned his hands to their former positions, one cupping his ass, his thumb right. . . there, so close, the other curled around Ray's erection, stroking gently, slowly.

He wished Ray would give him more room. A moment after he wished it, Ray shifted, spreading his thighs wider, raising his hips, a little. Fraser shivered. Not a word spoken, but the desired results achieved. Communication on a nearly telepathic level. Ray wanted him. Wanted this. Wanted everything. He squeezed the spare curve of Ray's ass, stroked his thumb across the opening again, and then, daring, he licked down low, right where perineum became buttocks, close, so close, but not quite there. Even there he found hints of sweetness along with the bright tang of sweat.

"Christ!" Ray gasped, sounding a little panicky, shaking a little, thighs and belly taut. Slick wetness welled hotly from Ray's cock to coat his stroking fingers. Fraser squeezed again, licked again, same place, not moving closer, sensing Ray wasn't ready for that yet. Sensing perhaps he wasn't ready for that yet, either. He licked once more, and tightened his grip on Ray's cock, moving his thumb to rest directly over Ray's anus, pressing lightly. Ray shifted, and shimmied, and pushed back, and it slipped in with surprising ease. Ray hissed in a breath, tensing, and Fraser froze.

"Ray?" His voice shook as much as his hands suddenly did.

"'s good, Benton," Ray said breathlessly. "Just . . . give me a sec."

Fraser nodded, and rubbed his suddenly itchy nose against Ray's thigh. Ray started to relax, he could feel it. Experimentally he tightened his hand around Ray's cock and gave a long, slow stroke. Ray's hips followed the movement, and the tension just seemed to flow out of him. He stroked again, and pushed in a little with his thumb, searching. . . he knew the general vicinity to search, just not where exactly. . .

"Holy . . . fuck!" Ray's hips bucked and he shuddered, then he was reaching down, fingers tangling in Fraser's hair, tugging nearly hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. "Up. Here. Now." Ray said, panting between each word.

Fraser nodded, wincing a little, and started to slip his hand free so he could move.

"Leave it!" Ray growled. "The rest of you."

The rest. . . oh. He thought he knew what Ray wanted. Clumsily managed to crawl up Ray's body, but with his arm in that position it just wasn't going to work. "Ray. . . I'm sorry, I have to . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Ray sighed, and twisted his hips up and away. "There."

Better. He rolled over so Ray was on top and then slid his hand down Ray's back and stroked his thumb against the small opening again. Ray spread his thighs, letting them drop to either side of Fraser's, and bit his ear.

"Tease," he accused.

Not wanting to be unfairly labeled, he pushed. It went in. Even more easily this time. Ray moaned, rolling his hips, his cock sliding against Fraser's with mind-bending results. Fraser gripped Ray's hip with his free hand and thrust up against him. "Oh. . . Ray."

"Mmm," Ray said, licking his way around Fraser's ear, an erotic tickle, then across his cheek, then finally tracing his lower lip with just a tongue-tip, all the while rocking in a way that made Fraser dizzy with need.

He turned his head, and opened his mouth, catching Ray's lips with his own, sucking at his maddening tongue, pulling Ray against him with one hand, and using the other in a way that made Ray lose his rhythm and whimper into his mouth. Instinct took over, his body driving hard against Ray's, again and again, absorbed in the feel of Ray's cock riding along his own, the tight, silky heat of him around his thumb, and his imagination melded the two sensations into a single one and with a moan he shuddered and came, pulsing out his pleasure over Ray's belly and cock, hands clenching.

Ray arched against him with a gasp, his cock sliding easily in the spreading mess between them, and then he was coming too. Fraser could feel each pulse both against his stomach, and inside Ray as well. They lay there, panting, for a few moments, and then Ray leaned to kiss him again, tenderly this time, stroking Fraser's jaw with his fingers, then he sighed and relaxed fully, his head tucked into the crook of Fraser's neck. Fraser carefully eased his thumb out, unwrapped his fingers from Ray's hip, hoping he hadn't left bruises, and slid his hands up Ray's back and just held him.

Ray brought a hand up and curled his fingers loosely around Fraser's left biceps, and yawned. The movement made the light from the bedside lamp glitter oddly in his hair, and looking closer, Fraser realized for the first time that there was silver in Ray's blond, along his temples primarily, but a few gleaming strands scattered across the crown as well. For some reason that made a lump rise in his throat. He lifted a hand and stroked Ray's hair with the backs of his fingers.

Ray lifted his head, looked into his eyes, and frowned a little. "Hey. What's up?"

Fraser shook his head. "Just. . . wishing we hadn't wasted so much time," he managed after a swallow.

Ray looked puzzled. "What brought that on?"

Fraser felt himself redden a little. "Ah. . . you've got. . . " his sentence trailed off. He wasn't sure how Ray would take it.

"I've got what? A flat ass? Crabs? What?" Ray demanded, a little irritably. He was sleepy, and not up to deciphering Fraserspeak at the moment.

Laughing, Fraser figured his discovery was certainly better than either of those options. "No, Ray. There's just a little grey in your hair."

"Oh. That." He traced a finger along Fraser's temple, then up higher, along his hairline, where Fraser was all too aware he was starting a streak. "You too." He smiled wryly. "Some detectives, huh? We can figure out anything except how much a pound of cheese weighs on Pluto."

Fraser chuckled, remembering the rest of that conversation. 'But do you know what's right in front of your nose?' "Indeed."

Ray yawned again. "Now can I go to sleep?" he asked a little plaintively.

Remembering that Ray had been up for nearly forty-eight hours straight at this point, Fraser decided he could postpone his need for intense conversation for a while. "Go to sleep," he said softly, hugging him with one arm.

Ray nodded and relaxed, dropping his head back down with a sigh. He was quiet for a few moments, his breathing deepening, evening, then suddenly, out of nowhere, he kissed Fraser's shoulder a little sloppily and muttered. "Love you."

"And I you," Fraser whispered.

Ray made a satisfied little sound and went limp.

Fraser lay there for some time with a smile on his face that he suspected was fairly fatuous, but he couldn't really help it. After a while he started feeling sleepy himself. Like Ray, he hadn't rested very well in the past few days. Anticipation was not a considerate bedmate. He yawned shallowly, noticing it was a little hard to take a deep breath with Ray relaxed and heavy against him. He should probably have suggested that Ray sleep somewhere other than right on top of him. Although there was something kind of nice about it, despite the discomfort. He yawned again, more widely, eyes tearing up a little from the stretch, and when he lifted a hand to wipe his eyes he noticed that his fingers were... purple. And red. And sticky.

It dawned on him that some of the stickiness he'd been trying not to notice was tart residue, not semen. The sheets were covered with the stuff, as were both he and Ray. He really ought to get Ray up so they could shower. And the sheets needed changing desperately. He shifted a little, put a hand on Ray's shoulder to shake him, and . . . he stopped. The hell with it. If Ray didn't care, neither did he. He could wash everything just as well in an hour or two.

* * *

Still half asleep, Fraser could sense that someone was watching him. Smiling, he began to open his eyes, certain he'd discover Ray had woken for some reason, but no . . . Ray was still fast asleep, curled up next to him. However, the feeling of being under observation only grew stronger. Taking care not to disturb Ray, he slid his arm out from under him and slowly turned to . . .

"Oh, for God's sake."

There, looming over them on the bed, was Diefenbaker, berry-coated tongue lolling out of his mouth, looking as fidgety as a wolf could look. It dawned on him that he could see far too clearly for it being night-time in the middle of winter. They'd left the bedside light on the entire time they'd been asleep.

Fraser scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes and felt Ray stir beside him.

"What's up, Frase?" His voice was raspy. "We got visitors?"

"One lupine visitor, to be precise. Diefenbaker's reminding me that he doesn't have opposable thumbs and so hasn't been able to let himself out of the house."

Ray chuckled, then rolled over and reached across Fraser to let Dief lick at his hand. "Doorknobs are a dumb invention, huh, boy?"

Diefenbaker moaned in agreement, then jumped off the bed and went to sit impatiently by the bedroom door.

Fraser leaned over and kissed Ray. "Good morning."

"Morning? I think your internal clock's busted, buddy. You trying to tell me we slept through the night?"

Fraser grinned sheepishly. "Well . . . no. I've just been looking forward to being able to say 'good morning' to you when I woke up, and now seemed as good a time as any to start."

Ray put his arm around Fraser and squeezed tightly. "Yeah, I get that. 'Morning to you, too." He raised his head, craning it slightly to see if he could get a look at the alarm clock on the other side of the bed. "What time is it anyway? The sun's down."

"10:30 p.m."

"You're kidding! We slept for almost six hours?"

"It would appear so. You . . .we clearly needed the rest." He lay his hand down on Ray's forehead and brushed his thumb across one eyebrow. "In fact, why don't you go back to sleep? I'll just see to Diefenbaker, and I'll be back to join you in a moment."

"Nah, I'm good." He stretched and slid one hand up Fraser's arm, using his shoulder for balance to sit up. "Why don't you let Dief outside and . . . you want me to boil water for tea or something?"

Such a simple thing, but sitting in the kitchen late at night and sharing a pot of tea with Ray sounded wonderful. He knew it was the kind of thing most people took for granted, but he wasn't sure he would ever become altogether accustomed to having Ray to share things with. In truth, though, he never wanted to become complacent about this gift he'd been lucky enough to be given.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak for a moment, then cleared his throat and smiled at Ray. "That sounds good. Perhaps we could make some toast as well?"

"Sure. I'm going to go to the john first and . . . Fraser?" he said, stopping before he'd gotten one foot out of the bed.

"What is it, Ray?"

"I'm . . . um . . . I think I'm kinda stuck."

Fraser took his first serious look since waking at the wreckage that had once been recognizable as his bed. The pillows had been knocked to the floor and were laying on top of the crumpled blanket. The badly stained sheets were stuck to both Ray's skin and his own by a combination of dried custard, berry juice, and semen. It was even worse than he'd remembered. How could either of them have fallen asleep in this disaster area?

He started to peel the sheet off one of Ray's legs, then started laughing. "You know, I'm not sure this is the romantic scene I envisioned when I dreamed about your return."

Ray grinned. "Welcome to the Fraser Arms Honeymoon Suite. Just $19.99 for the first night."

"Is that . . . in . . . American . . . or Canadian dollars?" Fraser asked between laughing fits.

"Canadian. This is definitely a Canadian thing, Benton."

Having freed Ray from the sheet, Fraser leaned forward to kiss his smiling mouth, then started pulling the bed linens together into a pile in the center of the bed. "Ray? Do me a favor and open the window."

"Why?" Ray asked, even as he crawled out of the bed. "We just going to chuck the evidence outside and hope it's dragged away by a wild animal?"

He chuckled. "It probably wouldn't be a bad idea, but no, I'm just providing Diefenbaker with a means to get outside while we - and the bedding - pay a visit to the shower."

Ray pushed the storm window up two feet, letting a blast of cold air into the room "Come on, Dief. You need some help getting out?"

The wolf gave him a disdainful glare before jumping on top of the dresser and out through the open window.

"Should I shut the window? It's going to get pretty damned cold in here in a minute."

"Leave it open for the time-being. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to air out the room, and in any case, Diefenbaker . . . ."

"You scared of what Dief's going to say to you if he gets locked outside on top of not being let out when he needed to go?" Ray said with a grin.

"Of course not," Fraser said, unwilling to admit that he really didn't want to have to listen to any longer a list of complaints from the wolf than he already heard on a regular basis. "He's a rational creature, and there's no reason for him to . . . ."

"This is Dief you're talking about, right? The wolf with a doctoral degree in irrational grudge holding?"

After taking a moment to consider Ray's words, Fraser made a mental note to purchase a supply of rawhide treats when the shops opened in the morning. "Good point." He smiled at Ray, then looked toward the bed. "Let's see what we can do to get some of this mess rinsed off the sheets."

"And ourselves." Ray rubbed his hand down his chest, grimacing at the whipped cream congealed in his chest hairs. "We need to be hosed down. My thighs are trying to stick together."

"Which would be a great pity," Fraser said with a grin.

"It would," Ray said, returning his grin.

"I'm surprised we weren't stuck to each other," Fraser said, scratching at an itchy spot on his stomach. "I guess we both must have moved around enough to prevent that."

"So, after we get cleaned off, you want to do some more of that 'moving?'" Ray was . . . leering at him. There really wasn't any other way to describe it.

He smiled. "I think a little more 'moving' could be squeezed into the weekend schedule." He picked up the heap of bedding and headed for the door. "Could you bring the mattress pad along with you?"

"From an army cot to a queen-sized bed complete with a mattress pad. You really were corrupted, weren't you?"

Fraser turned around halfway through the doorway and raised his eyebrows. "It came with the house, and I didn't hear you complaining about the bed six hours ago."

"Believe me, Benton, I'm not complaining. Viva la corruption!"

Fraser walked into the bathroom, then dropped the pile of bed clothes into the tub. He turned the taps on, then looked up to see Ray standing in the hall, the mattress pad draped across his shoulders like a king's robe.

"Ah. Your Majesty! Would you be so kind as to bring your mostly naked self over here?"

Ray grinned, then threw the mattress pad across the room and into the rapidly filling tub. "Always knew you had a kink for royalty. That picture of the Queen was a dead giveaway." He walked over to the edge of the bathtub and looked at the purple-tinted water. "You really want to put your sheets and us in there? Wouldn't it be less disgusting to just take everything down to the river and beat the sheets against a rock or something?"

Fraser looked down and sighed. "It is rather unappealing, isn't it? I considered just putting everything into the washing machine, but . . ."

"You have a washing machine?"

"Well, yes. Didn't I mention that?"

"Nope. Come on. Let's toss everything in the machine and then we can wash off in a tub that doesn't look like Barney the Dinosaur took a leak in it."

"Barney who?"

"He's a . . . never mind. Just be grateful you haven't had to experience the joys of babysitting Frannie's rugrats yet. Nice kids, but after a couple of hours, you end up singing kiddy t.v. show theme songs the whole next day, and, trust me, that's not something you want to be doing down at the station." He scooped up an armful of wet sheets. "After you."

Fraser led the way to the small washing machine installed in one of the hall closets. "Do you think we should do an online search for stain removal suggestions? I really should have taken care of this sooner, but . . . ."

"We had other priorities," Ray said, with a grin. "Nah, we don't have to go online. You got some peroxide in the bathroom?" Fraser nodded. "Okay, go get that and I'll get some dishwashing stuff from the kitchen."

Fraser looked up from the machine. "Peroxide and dishwashing liquid?"

"Yeah. It's a secret Kowalski family stain removal formula."

"Really?"

"Nah." Ray smiled. "My mom got it from Good Housekeeping. It works, though."

Once the 'secret ingredients' had been poured on top of the stained bedding, Fraser turned the machine on and they returned to the bathroom. Ray looked into the tub, which was filling with fresh, hot water. "That looks better."

Fraser nodded. "I thought it would defeat the purpose to get into a tub full of dirty water. Perhaps this time we won't risk looking like Violet Beauregarde when we're finished."

"You know Willy Wonka, but you don't know Barney?"

"It was a book long before it was a movie. Though clearly I have yet to catch up with my cultural literacy in the area of children's television programming." He tested the temperature of the water, then stepped into the tub and held his hand out.

Ray paused before he got into the bathtub and grinned. "This going to be one of those 'oh dear, I dropped the soap' kind of deals?"

Fraser laughed. "I was actually thinking of bathing this time, but maybe we can try that scenario tomorrow."

When Ray stepped into the tub, they rinsed the worst of the sticky mess off their skin under the shower, then Fraser closed the drain and as the tub filled they eased themselves down until they were both sitting, Ray leaning back against Fraser's chest. Fraser reached around and handed him a bar of Ivory Soap, but Ray made no immediate attempt to use it. Instead, he put the soap back on the edge of the bathtub, then took both of Fraser's arms and wrapped them tightly around him before letting his head drop back on Fraser's shoulder.

"Mmm. This is nice," he murmured contentedly.

Fraser slid one arm out from under Ray's, then started to card his fingers through Ray's hair. "It is. I wish . . . ." He sighed.

"What do you wish?"

"I just wish . . . that it could be like this all the time."

"Hey, I'm up for it," Ray said, stroking his forearm lightly. "You and me figure out how to grow gills, we can stay in the bathtub permanently if you want."

Fraser snorted. "That's not exactly what I meant."

"I know."

He could almost see the smile blooming on Ray's face. They lay quietly in the tub for a while, cocooned in hot water. Fraser closed his eyes. The next time he opened them, with a little start as he realized he'd been asleep, the water was lukewarm and the trickle of cold air from the gap beneath the bathroom door reminded him that the bedroom window was still open. He sat up a little from where he'd slid down in the water. "We should finish up," he said decisively. "And go make that tea."

Ray jumped. "Wha? Huh?" Apparently he'd been asleep too. "Oh. . . yeah, sounds good," Ray agreed. "Soap?"

Fraser lathered up his own hands, and then handed the soap to Ray. He figured it was best not to offer to scrub him, since he actually wanted them out of the tub reasonably quickly. Once they'd soaped, they stood up, opened the drain, and rinsed off with the shower. They dried off, and Fraser gave Ray his robe that was hanging on the back of the door, since they'd forgotten to bring clothing in with them. The navy terrycloth looked wonderful against his skin, and with his hair flat, Ray seemed years younger than his actual age.

"I'll go fill the kettle while you put something on," Ray said, then with a grin he nodded at the door and asked, "You ready?"

Fraser nodded.

"On three," Ray said. They counted to three, then Fraser opened the door and dashed, shivering, for the bedroom, grabbing his sweats out of his dresser and yanking them on quickly as Diefenbaker stood in the doorway and snickered. He glared at his companion as he closed the bedroom window.

"It's hardly my fault that I don't have a pelt," he said haughtily, going to join Ray in the kitchen where he stood filling the teakettle and frowning thoughtfully.

"Listen, Benton," he said as Fraser came in. "What you were saying before - I get that. I know what you're feeling 'cause I feel it too. It's just so easy like this. Being together. Just hanging out. No stress. But you know it's not going to be like this all the time when we get back to Chicago. In fact, it's not even going to be like this often."

Fraser nodded as he got the bread out of the refrigerator. "I know."

"I can be kind of hard to live with," Ray continued as if he hadn't spoken. "In case you've forgotten, I'm loud and I can be kind of manic and I have a temper and . . ."

"I know, Ray. It's all right," Fraser interrupted. "I can be stuffy and stubborn and I, ah, I have a temper too." Ray snorted at that, nodding. Fraser ignored him and went on. "But we'll be all right. We were before."

"Yeah, well, we weren't living together before," he said, setting the kettle on the stove and turning on the burner under it.

Fraser smiled. "Weren't we?"

Ray thought about it for a moment. "Hell. I guess we kind of were. We were together more than most married couples are, and we fought a lot less."

Fraser nodded soberly. "I know we probably can't avoid an occasional disagreement." He smiled a little in response to Ray's cackle. "We can both be pigheaded, but I think we learned how to keep it to the occasional carping rather than a full-fledged fight."

"Yeah," Ray agreed. He reached over to take Fraser's hand and curl the fingers into a loose fist, then wrapped his own hand around it. "We gotta talk. And listen. Because I don't ever want to punch you again, and I sure as hell never want to get punched by you again. So we have to communicate."

Fraser nodded, then lifted their hands and brushed his lips against the back of Ray's knuckles before slipping his hand free. Putting two slices of bread in the toaster he depressed the lever to start the bread toasting. "I have orange marmalade or peanut butter for the toast, if you'd like."

"Both sound good," Ray said. "Did I remember to tell you that UPS delivered the camping gear and your trunk the day before I came up?"

"No, you hadn't. I'm relieved to hear they arrived safely."

"Yeah, though we'll need to look for a new place pretty soon, because I can already tell my place ain't big enough for the both of us, pardner."

"That's not a problem. Once we find a place acceptable to both of us. . . excuse me, all three of us," he corrected himself as Diefenbaker gave him a dirty look, "I'll be happy to either buy or rent. My savings should be more than adequate to cover my share, no matter what we decide to do."

"Be nice to have a real place," Ray said, looking around the kitchen with a slightly wistful expression. "Speaking of which, what all are we packing out when we leave next week?"

"Just my remaining clothes, and Diefenbaker. Since this house is a furnished rental I don't have to worry about the furnishings, other than the television which I've arranged to donate to the Band Council."

"The band? You think they should be watching TV instead of rehearsing?" Ray asked, eyes wide.

Fraser rolled his eyes. "You, sir, are a smartass."

Ray grinned. "Yeah. And it's your duty to keep feeding me straight lines."

"And toast?" Fraser asked, catching the slices in mid-air as the slightly over-exuberant toaster expelled them.

"And toast," Ray confirmed.

* * *

It was really kind of weird, Ray thought, kissing his way down Fraser's naked back, running his tongue across the cratered scar next to his spine before moving lower, but so far nothing they had done had turned him off at all. And in the last two days they'd done damned near everything he'd ever heard of that two guys could do. Okay, well, just short of everything. There was one thing Ray had been avoiding because he was afraid Fraser wouldn't like it. Fraser seemed to want it. Acted like he wanted it. Bad. Bad enough to lay there spread out on the bed like an invitation to a wet dream. Not that Ray minded, since it let him return a favor from the night before, but he wasn't sure that Fraser really knew what he was asking for. Stella hadn't liked it. He remembered that very clearly.

Shaking off that thought, he ventured lower, reached the little indentation right at the top of the cleft between Fraser's buttocks, and flicked it with his tongue. Fraser whimpered, his hips curling forward, rubbing himself against the mattress. Oh yeah. Ray put a hand on each of Fraser's cheeks and pressed outward, just a little, then followed the cleft south a little further. Man. He couldn't believe he was doing this, even more he couldn't believe how much it was turning him on to do it. He was harder than he'd been since he was sixteen years old, his breathing ragged, his whole body flushed with heat and damp with sweat. He was so hard he almost hurt, but it was such a good hurt.

He pulled his tongue back in to moisten it, licked out again, closer. Fraser gasped. He tasted like clean skin and sweat. Ray's fingers dug into the soft-firm curves under them a little, pulling him open more, and he pointed the tip of his tongue and . . .

Fraser's whole body jerked, nearly bucking Ray off. "Raaaaay!" he gasped.

Ray held on with both hands and did it again, probing.

"Oh. . . God. . . Ray!"

He squeezed, he licked, he flicked, he kissed. He felt Fraser open up for him, relaxing, and he went for it, he delved, going deep, as deep as he could. Kept at it until Fraser was shuddering and babbling, a mindless stream of half-sentences and words, all variations on 'fuck me now,' spreading his thighs wider, pushing his gorgeous ass back at Ray, asking for more. Damn, if he'd had any clue that Fraser would be like this in bed, he'd have jumped him the day they met.

"Ray. . . please!" Fraser pleaded. "I need . . ."

Jesus. He sounded. . . broken. Needy. Ray's fingers twitched, He gave one last lick, shifted one hand, sucked on his finger for a minute, and then slid it inside Fraser in a slow, smooth push. Fraser's body tightened up around his finger, sucking at it. His neglected cock jerked a little at that, drooling a little puddle of pre-come onto sheets that still held faint ghosts of blue, red and purple stains, and several more recent, less colorful ones, still damp. They were going to have to do laundry again soon, he thought distantly, with amusement. Thank God Fraser had three sets of sheets.

Fraser. . . undulated, using Ray's finger as a pivot. "So goood. . ." he breathed. "Please Ray. More."

He'd been asking that for the last day and a half. There was only so much a man could take. Especially feeling that smooth, tight heat gripping his finger like that, imagining what it would feel like around his cock. And he'd already had two fingers in there at some point. . . he'd lost track of exactly when but he knew he'd done it, helped along by the lube, thankfully not home-made. Fraser had bought it from the same internet site that had shipped Crawford Jones the CK. And Fraser had come like a fountain and kept asking for more. So it was okay, right? Had to be. He dropped his forehead down to rest it on the warm, flushed curve of Fraser's ass. Licked it, the skin peach-soft against his tongue.

"Ray!" Fraser growled.

There was only so much 'no' in him, and apparently he'd just hit bottom. So to speak. "Okay. Okay, you win. I give. Where's the . . . "

"Night table drawer," Fraser said, stretching to fumble at the drawer, finally getting it open, pulling out the little bottle, opening it. "Here."

Ray eased his finger out of Fraser's heat and held out his hand. Fraser upended the bottle, pouring so much slick across his fingers that Ray had to catch the drips with his other hand. He stroked himself with the extra, clenching his teeth a little against the urge to just finish himself off right then. The other hand returned to the cleft between Fraser' s cheeks, letting the lube drip off his fingers, rubbing it up and down the crevice, into the little furl, pushing it inside with first one finger, then when Fraser seemed nice and relaxed, another one. God. Tight.

He curled his fingers forward, and Fraser jerked, hissing "Yesss!" through his teeth. He stroked in and out a couple of times, feeling how nice and easy it was. Tried slipping another finger in. It went in easy, too, even though it felt like he had his fingers in a smooth, hot vise. Ray leaned around and found Fraser's mouth with his own, kissing him as he kept stroking. Fraser kissed him frantically, his hips moving with Ray's caresses, licking and sucking at Ray's mouth between gasps of "Now, now!"

Ray slipped his fingers free, and settled between Fraser's thighs, rubbing his cock between Fraser's cheeks in all that slickness there, feeling the head of his cock catch against the little hole and dip inside just a tiny bit, once, twice. Feeling Fraser push back each time, trying to get him in deeper.

"Tell me," he whispered fiercely into Fraser's ear. "You better fucking tell me if you need me to stop."

Fraser nodded jerkily. Ray braced one slick hand against the sheets beside Fraser's hip, wrapped his other hand around himself, aimed, shifted his hips forward, and . . .

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, feeling himself sliding in. Just as tight and hot as he'd felt around his fingers. Almost like being sucked, but different, better.

Fraser made a kind of a grunt. Didn't quite sound. . . comfortable. Against his lips he could feel the flex of muscle in Fraser's jaw. Wait. Wait. He thought about pulling back, but Fraser hadn't asked him to stop. He stopped, just the head of his cock inside Fraser. Benton. Waiting. Felt Fraser relax. Okay. Slow, he told himself. Slow. He pushed a little harder. Felt that snug channel yielding to him, opening up, but just barely enough to let him in. Felt so damned good. Fuck. Fuck. He was losing it. fuckfuckfuckfuck . . . He held onto the word, chanting it like a litany, meaningless, in his head, for distraction.

"Yes!" Fraser panted, making Ray suddenly aware that he'd also been saying it aloud. "Fuck me." He made a sound in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a purr, and pushed back against Ray, hard.

"Jesus Christ!" He was in, all the way in, wrapped tight in silky heat. He pushed, trying to get deeper, impossible, wanting. Pulled back, almost all the way out.

Fraser reached back a hand, scrabbling at his hip, trying to tug him back. Ray obliged, sliding home again. Fraser moaned, pushing up onto his hands, torso arched, head back. The new angle shifted most of Ray's weight onto Fraser's ass, grinding Fraser's groin against the bed. Ray rolled his hips, again, again, a fluid glide, in and out, just enough for friction. Fraser panted, shifting his thighs wider apart. Ray kept up the rhythm, feeling Fraser tighten up around him on every in-stroke, feeling the flex of his glutes, the slick slide of his sweaty thighs against Fraser's.

Fraser shifted up onto his hands and knees, startling Ray for a moment, but it took him only seconds to realize what he wanted. He braced his own knees against the mattress and pulled Fraser back against him with one hand tight on his hip, then reached to curl his other hand around the heavy length of Fraser's cock, so that with each thrust of Ray's body, Fraser echoed the movement into his hand.

"Yes!" The word was an explosive gasp. Fraser let his head drop forward, bent, and Ray knew he was staring down the length of his own body to watch as Ray jacked him. Each of his thrusts forward was met by one of equal strength back against him, and he felt Fraser start to shudder under him. He tightened his grip, moved harder, faster, and then Fraser was coming, hot slickness spurting against his fingers, against Fraser's belly, his whole body taut and shaking. Ray managed a few more ragged thrusts but the close, hot channel that gripped Ray's cock seemed to pulse, squeezing him, dragging him over the edge. He started to come just as Fraser's knees gave out. Ray pancaked down on top of him, one arm trapped beneath him, laughing and gasping, and coming, his whole body nearly shorted-out with pleasure.

"What's funny?" Fraser asked a few moments later, his breath caught.

Ray kissed the side of his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. "Not a thing. Just. . . I'm so freakin' happy."

Fraser turned his head, trying to see Ray, without much success. "Really?"

Ray carefully shifted his hips, disengaging. Fraser hissed a little and Ray soothed him, rubbing softly. "You okay?"

"I'm. . . good," Fraser said, making good sound like so much more than it ever had before, rolling over to look at him, a lopsided grin on his face that made Ray want to kiss it off him.

So he did. A moment later he pulled back. "Really," he said, finally answering Fraser's question.

Fraser pulled him close and they lay quietly for a little while. For some reason Ray found himself thinking about Stella. She'd always said they had a great sex life, and all the time they'd been together, Ray had thought so too. Mostly. But at some point he'd started to realize that there was something missing. After the divorce he'd kept trying to tell himself he was wrong, that it really had been great, perfect, the best. But no, he hadn't been wrong; something had been missing. Now he knew what that something had been. Equality.

Not to mention he was . . . gay. Apparently. He felt a little dumb to be just figuring that out at his age. He guessed being 'in love' with Stella all those years had kept him from thinking about what he really liked, what he really wanted. And those post-Stella mornings sharing coffee and toast with strange women - they could never have been what he really needed. Because what he needed was . . . Fraser.

Maybe he should send Stella a thank-you card, though, for dumping him on his ass and making him figure things out for himself. Might be hard to find one like that at Hallmark, though.

* * *

As they got out of the Suburban, Diefenbaker took off like a shot toward the empty lot next to the detachment.

"Where's he off to?" Ray asked, puzzled.

"He wanted one last chance to play in the snow," Fraser said, gazing after him. "He is an arctic wolf, after all."

Ray rolled his eyes. "We get snow in Chicago, Fraser." After a moment he frowned, suddenly realizing that maybe 'snow' was just a metaphor here. "You sure about this, Benton?" he asked as they headed up the walkway toward the main doors of the detachment. "You seem to be doing better here now. If you don't want to leave, there's probably still time to get things put back the way they were. I mean - for you anyway. I'd have to come up with a new Canadian career, but at least you could stay up here." He didn't quite know why he was asking. Okay, maybe he did. He didn't want there to come a time when Fraser told him he hadn't really wanted to leave and he'd only done it because Ray wanted him to.

Fraser stopped and looked at Ray, the brim of his Stetson shielding his face from the falling snow. "I'm sure. I've never been more sure. And, for your information, the reason I'm doing better is because there's finally a light at the end of the damned tunnel."

Ray looked at Fraser with wide eyes, then had to blink as a snowflake hit him in the eye. "The what tunnel?"

Fraser gave him a look.

Ray grinned. "So you're cool with going?"

"I am ecstatic about going. I can't wait to leave. I've never been so happy to leave anyplace in my life. Well, except for that time I was assigned to a two-man post in . . . ."

"Benton," Ray interrupted him. "It's freakin' snowing out here. Tell the story inside if you have to."

Fraser smiled. "Just yanking your chain."

"Coolness." Ray smiled. It felt good to have Fraser teasing him again. He looked at the building. "She here yet?"

"There's an unfamiliar vehicle in the lot, so I assume so."

"You nervous?" Ray asked as they stopped again, just under the overhang at the front door.

Fraser narrowed his eyes at Ray, and then sighed. "I. . . a little."

"Well, just remember, you're ten times the man she'll ever be."

Fraser looked puzzled. "I expect that's true. Though I suppose she could have a surgical gender alteration and . . ."

"Mountie. I meant Mountie. So don't let her cow you."

"Ray, make up your mind, am I a man, a Mountie, or a cow?"

"Um. . . is this a trick question? Give me a minute here. . ."

"Ray!"

Ray laughed. "You're Benton Fraser. That's the important part." He opened the door, motioning Fraser through, then as he walked in behind him, he mooed. Loudly.

Fraser gave a single, startled snicker. Sally looked up from her desk, saw who it was, shook her head and looked down again.

"Has Sergeant Carol arrived, Sally?"

Sally looked up again. "Yep. She's in your office. I gave her some coffee."

"Thank you kindly. Is everyone here?"

Sally nodded. "In the break room, nervous as cats in a room full of rocking chairs. I told them they had to wait for you, just like you said."

"Excellent." Fraser took off his hat and peacoat and shook snow off them over the mat in front of the door. Ray followed suit with his parka, and brushed his hands through his hair briefly to get the snow out, and make it stand up right. Fraser eyed him, and shook his head. "I don't know how you do that."

"Do what?"

"Get your hair to look right without a mirror."

"Talent, Benton. Sheer talent. Let's do this thing."

Fraser nodded, hung his coat and hat on one of the hooks next to the door, and headed for his office. Ray quickly put his coat next to Fraser's and followed him. As Fraser paused for a moment in the doorway, Ray took moment to study the woman sitting in one of the two 'visitor' chairs. She was about his age, and looked like she'd be tall, standing up. Built. Pretty. Well, no, not pretty. Beautiful, even without any makeup. She wore her long, dark-brown hair loose and wavy, and made the boring blue uniform look good. Ray suddenly realized she was holding his. . . Fraser's rubber duck, rubbing it with her thumb, smiling a little. He stifled the urge to go yank it out of her hands.

"Sergeant Carol," Fraser said evenly.

She looked around and smiled. She looked even prettier when she smiled. For a second Ray wondered if he was supposed to notice that a woman was pretty, now that he'd figured out he was gay. Then he decided that was a stupid thing to wonder. Attractive people were attractive people, didn't matter who you were sleeping with.

"Corporal Fraser! It's good to see you," she said, putting the duck down on the desk and standing up, reaching out to shake Fraser's hand firmly, sparing Ray a curious glance.

"Indeed," Fraser said. "It's been quite some time." He moved around to the back of his desk and opened a drawer. "In fact, I've been hoping we might someday meet again."

He had? Ray was a little puzzled. Fraser hadn't said anything about that before.

Sergeant Carol turned red. "Oh, God," she said, putting a hand over her eyes. "I'm so sorry about. . . what happened. To this day I can't believe I was such a bitch about it. I was really hoping you'd forgotten. Since that's out, I guess I'll have to hope you've forgiven me instead."

"Of course," Fraser said blandly. "Had our positions been reversed, I imagine I might have been similarly perturbed."

Sergeant Carol shook her head. "That's bullshit, Corporal, and we both know it, but it's kind of you to say so. I hear you're going back to Chicago."

"I am. They've instituted a full-time official liaison program there now. I'll be working out of the 27th division with my old partner, Detective Kowalski." Fraser nodded at Ray.

Sergeant Carol turned, holding out her hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you Detective Kowalski! I've heard so much about you."

"Likewise." Ray shook her hand, braced a little as he waited to find out what she'd heard. The sub probably. It was almost always the sub. Though sometimes it was the Henry Allen. Ghosts and gold got people's attention almost as fast as nukes and nerve gas.

"Ali Thobhani was very impressed by the thoroughness and tenacity of your work on the LeBeau case. It's good to know we'll have such a capable officer working with our liaison in Chicago."

Ray blinked, startled. He hadn't expected that one at all. "Thanks. It was good to get the guy off the streets, no matter where he ends up."

She nodded vigorously.

"Please, seat yourselves." Fraser said. "Before I introduce the rest of the members, I'd like to take the opportunity to do something that I've wanted to ever since I saw you last."

Sergeant Carol resumed her seat. "And that would be?" she asked, looking a little anxious.

Ray sat down in the other chair, watching. Fraser was up to something, Ray could tell. He had that gleam in his eye, even though his expression was placid. He leaned forward a little, waiting to see what would come next.

Fraser reached into his desk drawer and brought out a black metal full-strip stapler. "I'd like to return this. You left in rather a hurry and. . ."

Sergeant Carol started to laugh. "Oh my God! I don't believe it! You've had that all this time. . . just waiting?"

Fraser smiled. "Well, honestly, I'm not entirely sure how I ended up with it when I left Chicago, but when I found out who was going to replace me here, I couldn't resist."

She shook her head. "And to think I thought you had no sense of humor! Though I really ought to report you for appropriating RCMP property!" she said with mock severity.

"Yeah, you really can't trust him with office supplies," Ray put in with a grin. "He's got a real problem that way."

"Now, Ray, you know the incident with the CPD hole punch has been greatly exaggerated," Fraser said with great dignity. "And as for the stapler, you can both see that it's right here on RCMP property, being used for its intended purpose, so it's hardly anything I could be held accountable for."

The sergeant laughed again. "Corporal, you're something else. I'm beginning to think I was an idiot. Maybe I should have stayed in Chicago," she said speculatively.

The hair on the back of Ray's neck prickled a little. He reached out and picked up Fraser's duck. "Nope. He managed just fine there on his own."

She looked over at him searchingly, glanced down at the duck, back up at his face, and then she nodded. "So I see." She turned back at Fraser. "Well, thank you for taking such good care of my stapler all these years. I'll try to do as well with your detachment here."

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job. I've heard nothing but good things about your work, and I recall that the liaison office was in excellent shape when you handed it over to me."

Sergeant Carol snorted inelegantly. "You mean when I stomped off in a huff, don't you? In any case, thanks for the compliment." She glanced at Ray again, then back at Fraser. "And, Corporal, congratulations on your. . . new posting."

Fraser nodded. "Thank you kindly, Sergeant Carol. Let me just check to see if everyone is here now so I can introduce you. Ray, perhaps you'd like some coffee?"

Ray recognized a cue when he heard one. "Sounds good, Benton." He stood up, pocketing the duck. "You want a refill?" he asked, nodding at Sergeant Carol's mug.

"No, thank you, I'm fine," she responded.

Ray followed Fraser out of the office and down the hall. Fraser stopped between his office and the break room, and looked at Ray.

"Is there a problem?" he asked softly, his voice pitched for Ray's ears only.

"She was flirting with you!" Ray hissed, scowling.

Fraser smiled. "Yes, she was. However, I wasn't flirting with her."

Ray thought about that. Nodded. "No. You weren't."

"You don't have to defend my honor, you know."

Ray sighed. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just. . . " he shrugged. "Sorry," he repeated.

Benton smiled. "For what it's worth, I suspect the first time I'm confronted with a similar situation I may have a comparable reaction."

"Really?" Ray thought about that for a moment, raised his eyebrows, and grinned. "Cool. So, you want me to cover the com-center while you rally the troops for the official hand-off?"

"I'd appreciate it, if you don't mind. It will just be a few minutes."

"Not a problem. But I still want that coffee."

"I thought you would. Let's just hope they've left you some."

Fraser opened the break-room door and Ray stepped through it, heading for the coffee pot. Six pair of eyes locked on him for a moment, then shifted away as the four constables and two community policing representatives realized he wasn't their new C.O. He nodded at them, filled a mug and sugared it, then went out to the front counter. Sally looked up at him questioningly.

"Fraser wants you in the break room. I'll watch the com-center, okay?"

She eyed him narrowly. "You ever work a com-center before?"

"Not as such, no." Jesus. Could he sound any more like Fraser? He shivered a little. That was kind of scary. "But I'm a quick study." He gave her his best grin.

She shook her head, smiling a little. "I assume you can use a phone and know what a hold button is?"

"I'm a phone ace, Sally, trust me on that score."

"All right, how about a radio mic?"

"You hold down the little button on the side to talk, right? And let it go if you don't want them to hear?"

"Right. Okay. Well, I guess you'll do. But you come and get me right off if you have any questions. Oh, and if anybody calls you have to remember to say 'Good morning, La Rouille detachment and then. . . "

"And then 'Bonjour, c'est le détachement de La Rouille.'" Ray finished for her. "I got it," he assured her. "Now go on before you miss the show."

She looked a little startled, but she got up and went. He watched her, wondering if it was scarier that he'd just sounded like Fraser, or that he knew how to answer the detachment's phone in French. He sat down in her chair and went to scoot it in, then had to adjust the height setting so he didn't feel like he was riding a tricycle. He sipped his coffee, and leaned back. Not a bad chair. The computer screen was set on a map of the area showing weather conditions. He figured Sally wouldn't appreciate it if he started surfing the Chicago real estate ads on her computer so he left it where it was.

A flash of red caught his eye and he glanced over to see Fraser escorting Sergeant Carol toward the break room. He discovered that if he leaned just a little to the left, he could see in. Almost a straight shot to Bose Zhertak and the other guy Mounties. . . Will Goodrunning, plus a little of Patrice Bourque - sideburns and beard mostly.

He pushed the chair back another inch, then one more. Okay, that was better. At least he could see Fraser now even if he couldn't hear what he was saying.

Ray smiled. Just about everyone was doing that 'I'm nodding so you'll know I'm listening' thing. The only one who wasn't doing the bobble-head doll routine was Zhertak, and he was . . . Christ, he looked shell shocked. Transfixed. Then his tongue darted out and swiped his bottom lip, and Ray just about fell off his chair. What the hell?

He glanced back at the switchboard to make sure he wasn't missing anything, then slid the chair back another few inches. He knew Fraser didn't think Zhertak had a thing for him, but Ray knew infatuation when he saw it and Zhertak was showing all the signs. Then Ray looked harder and . . . weird. Yeah, he had that stunned look on his face, but . . . he wasn't looking at Fraser at all. In fact, it looked like he had those adoring puppy dog eyes trained right on Sergeant Carol.

Ray chuckled to himself as he rolled the chair back to Sally's desk. Too bad they weren't going to be sticking around long enough to watch this story play out. It might be pretty amusing now that it wasn't Fraser being stared at. Heh. Looked like Zhertak had a thing for authority figures in general.

The official introductions were finished before Ray'd even gotten a chance to check out the weather conditions in Saskatoon and Minneapolis, and everybody started filing out of the break room. He watched as Carol shook Fraser's hand, then went into his . . . her office. Fraser leaned in the doorway for a moment, then joined Ray.

"Seems like that went well."

"Yeah, from what I could see, the handover went pretty smooth."

"I noted your keen interest in the proceedings." Fraser smiled. "I'm sure she'll do fine here. Better than I did, to be honest. She's actually eager to begin her duties here, and it looks like everyone is responding positively to her obvious enthusiasm."

"Zhertak sure is," Ray said with a grin.

"Indeed," Fraser said, dropping his voice. "It appeared that way to me as well. I believe there might be a bit more response than is ordinarily acceptable under the RCMP fraternization guidelines."

Ray looked past Fraser and saw Zhertak knock on Carol's door, then enter. "You going to say anything to her about it?"

Fraser shook his head. "No, I don't think it's necessary. In the first place, I have a suspicion that you and I are prone, at the moment, to seeing rather more of a personal interest between people than may really exist."

"You saying we've got love on the brain?"

Fraser flushed slightly, then cleared his throat. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying." Ray grinned. "In any case, Sergeant Carol is more than capable of speaking up for herself."

"I'll say," Sally interjected from behind Fraser's shoulder.

Both men started guiltily.

"This one seems like a pretty tough cookie. I'll watch out for her though."

She looked at her desk, then at Ray, and he jumped up. "Sorry. Guess I'd better let you have your chair back, Sally."

"Thanks for looking after things, Detective." She glanced over at Fraser, then stared hard at Ray. "Make sure you keep doing that."

Man. How many moms did he and Fraser have between them? "Um . . . yeah. I will. Um . . . Fraser? You got anything left to do here?"

"Just packing up the last of my things here, and then I think we'd best head for the airport."

"Okay. So . . . bye, Sally," Ray said. "It's been good knowing you."

"Same here. You're okay, Kowalski. And as for you, Benton Fraser," she said, hugging him tightly. "We'll miss you. You go and have a good life down there in Chicago. Just remember you've got friends here if you ever need them."

She hugged him again, and Ray could see Fraser squeeze his eyes shut briefly as he returned her embrace. He shook his head. Couldn't help think how much easier it would've been for Fraser these past two years if he'd been able to recognize that he really had been accepted and appreciated by the people in La Rouille. Looked like there were a whole lot of things in this life that you just couldn't see until you were ready. On the other hand, if Fraser had felt included from the start he might not be coming home with Ray, so he was just as glad it hadn't happened.

Sally released Fraser and sat down at her desk. "Okay, run along, boys. Constable Traynor's gone outside to round up your wolf and take the three of you out to the airport. Then maybe things will get back to normal around here." She grinned.

"Yes, yes . . .true." Fraser's voice was a little unsteady. "I'll just . . ." He turned and started to head back to his old office, but when Ray caught up with him and put a hand on his shoulder, he stopped.

"You okay?" Ray whispered.

Fraser turned to Ray, took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm okay." Then he smiled. "Let's say our goodbyes, shall we?"

They said their farewells to Carol and Zhertak as they collected the last of Fraser's personal papers and supplies in a small cardboard box. Just before sealing the box with duct tape, Ray slipped the rubber duck out of his pocket and in with the rest of things Fraser was taking to Chicago.

"Okay," Ray said, turning to Fraser and smiling. "I think we've got everything. Let's get started."

* * *

"I have to admit, Ray," said Fraser as he plugged his new computer into a surge protector, "in all the time I liaised with the 27th, I never noticed an empty office on this side of the squad room."

"Yeah, kind of weird, isn't it?" Ray said, ripping the duct tape off the last of the boxes. "Not a bad office, though. I thought for a while they were going to make you work out of the supply closet. There was some talk of letting you have the break room but that kind of caused a small-scale riot so they had to rethink that one fast. This one's a little small, but I think it's better than your old office at the Consulate, especially since you don't have to share it with all the file boxes." He opened up the box on the desk, and there on top was the rubber duck. "Don't think I didn't notice that you're not just light-fingered with office supplies," Ray said with a grin as he flourished the toy.

"You're a fine one to talk, Mr. 'He won't miss a shirt or four,'" Fraser said, repositioning the duck more to the center.

Ray held out a sheaf of papers. "Guilty. Here. Put these in your in basket. You'll look industrious."

Fraser took them, frowning. "I need to sort them out first."

"Just do it." Ray said. "Sort them out later."

Fraser hesitated for a moment, and then put them in the in-basket. Ray nodded approvingly. A tap at the door made them both look around to see Harding Welsh standing in the doorway, his broad, solid presence familiar and welcome.

"You've returned, Corporal," he said with exaggerated care. "Upon reflection, I imagine that pleases me."

Fraser smiled. "It pleases me too, sir."

Welsh looked sharply at Ray. "What are you doing here on your day off, Kowalski? Just can't stay away?"

Ray glanced over at Fraser, then back at his lieutenant. "Just helping Fraser settle in. Um . . . sir? There's something I think we gotta talk about."

"If it's about you and the Mountie, I figured that out years ago. Took you guys long enough." He watched as Ray set the duck on top of Fraser's computer monitor, and shook his head. "You know, Detective, just because the wolf's a florist doesn't mean you have to go into interior decorating."

Ray did a double take. "How do you know about the wolf?"

"I read reports, Kowalski."

"You do? Jeez. All this time I figured they went straight upstairs and were never seen again."

Welsh glared at Ray. "You know, it's not too late to arrange for a long-term undercover assignment at The One Liner."

"Sir?" Fraser said quietly.

Welsh looked over at him, eyebrows lifted.

"Is it going to be a problem?"

"Not unless you make it one."

"Understood," Fraser said.

Ray nodded. A sudden commotion outside the office had Welsh turning, opening the door. The bullpen was filled with milling figures. Welsh scowled.

"Who are all these people in my squad room?"

Fraser stepped out from behind his desk and looked through the open door. "Well, sir, there would appear to be a construction worker, a fireman, a policeman, albeit one from another jurisdiction by the look of the uniform. A butler, a butterfly collector, an . . . elf?"

"What? We got a Village People reunion here?" Welsh asked, bemused.

"Look, a transvestite bride!" Ray said. "Wait. There was never a transvestite bride in the Village People."

Welsh looked at him. "And you know this how, Kowalski?"

"Hey, I was young!" Ray said defensively "And the construction worker was. . ." He glanced at Fraser and felt his face get warm. "Um, never mind."

Fraser lifted an eyebrow at him. Ray had a feeling they were going to have a Discussion later.

A uniformed officer, dragging what looked like Elvis during the Fat Years, stopped for a moment, looking harassed. "Sorry, sir. There was one of those 'murder mystery weekend' things going on at the Millennium Knickerbocker and a fight broke out when the murderer was revealed to be Mr. Mustard in the library with the poison rather than Mrs. Teal in the kitchen with the duct tape. We had them all down in booking and they said they wanted to appeal to a higher authority."

"Send 'em up to records, then," Welsh snapped. "But I want them out of my squad room."

"Yes, sir!" the uniform said, and continued his Elvis herding.

"Duct tape?" Fraser murmured, eyebrows lifted.

"We get the Red Green Show down here, too, you know," Ray said.

From outside the office, someone yelled. "It was not Mrs. Teal!"

"I don't care who killed who with what!" Welsh bellowed. "Just get 'em out. Now!" He started out the door, and then stopped suddenly and turned to Fraser, shaking his head. "You know, Corporal, in the two years since you left, the strangest thing anyone brought into my squad room was a chocolate chip bagel. You've been back for less than a day, and it's already a madhouse in here." Welsh paused, then looked surprised. "What, you break your face or something Fraser?"

Ray turned to find Fraser smiling. . . the kind of smile he hadn't seen since they'd dug themselves out of the snow after falling out of a plane. He felt a smile tug at his own mouth as Fraser shook his head.

"No, sir. I'm home."


* * * Finis * * *




Feedback to: Beth H and Kellie Matthews

Websites: http://www.mrks.org/~beth-h and http://www.mrks.org/~kellie

1. For those of you looking at us in confusion, Canadian bannocks are not like Scottish bannocks, which are flat oatcakes. The Canadian version is more like what is commonly known in the U.S. as 'frybread', and is often made with the addition of raisins or other dried berries. For a site with a history of bannock and recipes, go to: http://www.for.gov.bc.ca/kamloops/fnb/FNB.htm

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