Author's website: http://www.e-fic.com/~grey/

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This story is a sequel to: BYGONES Part Two

BYGONES Part Three
By Grey

Ray sat on the exam table wearing a flimsy paper gown with an even thinner paper sheet across his lap. He still wore his socks, but he shivered involuntarily from the cold. He hated waiting, hated sitting there tired and not quite able to focus.

Dr. Barnes came into the room, holding his chart, his face looking anything but happy. "Well, Mr. Kowalski, Ray, what have you been up to?"

"Puking mostly."

"I can see that. Did the Phenergan help?"

"Yeah. Lucky you gave Fraser that sample."

Barnes shrugged. "Unfortunately, this particular antibiotic, while effective against resistant infection, can sometimes have unpleasant side effects like the ones you've experienced. The sample was a precaution. I'll write you a prescription. You should use the Phenergan an hour before you take your antibiotic. That should cut down on the nausea and vomiting."

"You expect me to use one of those things every day?"

"Actually, it'll be three times a day, once before each dose of antibiotic. It should also help you rest more."

"Look, can't you give me a pill instead?"

"I can, but to be honest, the suppositories are often more effective."

"I still want the pill."

"Fine. It's up to you, but I warn you, that if the vomiting continues, you'll need to use the alternative."

Ray ignored the threat and complained, "This stuff makes me really sleepy."

"But you're not nauseous or vomiting now, right?"

"Right."

"So, take the medication. Your white blood cell count is down and that's good, but it's not completely normal yet and you're still running a low grade fever. You need to finish this round of the antibiotics."

Ray refrained from saying fuck you, but just barely.

"You also need to drink more. Try increasing your fluids with juices or a sport's drink." Barnes stopped and put the file on the counter. "And you've lost another two pounds since your release. That's twelve pounds all together in the last three weeks. You need to either eat more or start using the supplement I suggested, at least until you get your strength back."

"That the stuff I drank in the hospital that tasted like chalk?"

"They've got other flavors, but I do believe chalk is the preferred flavor in most hospitals, yes."

Ray had to check to see the faint grin on Barnes's face to realize the guy finally slipped a joke in like he might be human after all. "Funny."

"Seriously, Ray. Get the chocolate or whatever flavor you can tolerate. You can't afford to lose more weight, not when your body's supposed to be healing."

"I'll try."

Nodding, Barnes pulled out latex gloves from the box near the table. "Good, now let's take a look at those wounds." He pulled open the back of Ray's gown, exposing the shoulder bandage. He peeled back the covering and threw it away before pushed around the edges of the injury. "Keep using the antibiotic cream on this, but leave the bandage off unless it gets irritated." He closed the gown again and then moved to the front. He pulled back the sheet and spread Ray's thighs. Removing the bandage, he frowned. Carefully, he examined the raised, red area by pushing down. Ray hissed.

"Sorry. Still sore?"

"You could say that, yeah."

"Any pain when you walk or move around?"

"Not much."

"Define not much."

"Just some twinges if I move the wrong way or go too fast. Like I said, not much, not as bad as it was."

Nodding, Barnes used a swab to rub down the area and reapplied antibiotic before putting on a fresh bandage. "This one needs more tending. Keep it covered and I'll check it in a few days."

"Sure."

Barnes used his stethoscope and listened to Ray's heart and lungs, nodding. "Good. Your lungs are clear, heartbeat strong and regular."

"We done?"

"Not quite. Lie back."

"What for?"

Trying to be patient, Dr. Barnes dropped the gloves in his bio-waste bin and washed his hands. "I want to examine the rest of you. Now, please, lie back and relax."

Ray did lie down, but he couldn't relax, not with Barnes's hands checking out the rest of the lacerations and his throat in particular. Then he used the stethoscope to listen to Ray's belly, his face even more solemn. "How are your bowels?"

"Fine."

"When was the last movement?"

"Jeez, Doc, I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"A few days ago in the hospital, I guess." Ray squeezed his eyes shut, so not wanting to think about that.

"Any pain or bleeding?"

"I was a little sore, yeah, but no bleeding."

"Good, but I'll give you a stool softener to take with you. It should help."

"I don't need that."

"You need it. Take it. Now, roll over. Let me check your back."

Fuming, Ray turned over, resting his head on his right arm, his left arm by his side. Hands touched and studied every scar and bruise. "Looks good. Now, on your side."

KY Jelly appeared and more gloves came out of the box. Ray froze. "What's that for?"

"I need to do a rectal. Just relax."

Instead of relaxing, Ray sat up quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the table. "No."

"Ray..."

"I said no. I can say no. I got rights." He swallowed hard, remembering the painful exams from the hospital. He forced his voice to stay steady. "Look, I'm good, I'm fine, no need to do that."

Barnes studied him for a moment an then took a deep breath. "I know this is difficult. I know it's not pleasant, but it's necessary. I need to be sure the tears are healed."

"I told you I'm not bleeding."

"I know what you told me. I still need to check. I can sedate you if you want."

"I'm sedated enough. I just don't need it."

"You don't really have a choice."

"So, we got one of those stalemate things going here, huh?"

"Not if I get your partner in here."

Ray gulped, the defeat like lead in his stomach. "That's not playing fair."

"I do what I have to as a doctor, Ray, just like you do as police officer. Now, please, lie down on your side. I'll be as careful as I can be."

Which, as it turned out, still hurt like hell. When it was over, Barnes wiped him off and then dropped his gloves in the bin. "You can sit up now. It looks better."

Carefully, Ray eased himself back to a sitting position, refusing to let the pain show. "Told ya."

"Still had to check. You'd be surprised at the number of patients who aren't always truthful with their physicians." Barnes crossed his arms, leaning back on the counter. "How's the pain in the arm?"

"Better."

"Still taking the Percocet that Dr. Raines prescribed?"

Ray didn't look up. "Yeah."

"I'd like you to reduce the dosage or go to Tylenol or ibuprofen instead."

"Dr. Raines thinks I should have the Percocet, at least until the cast comes off."

"I just don't want you to be over-medicated, Ray. Taking it with the Phenergan could be a problem."

Rubbing his face, Ray sighed. "Okay, okay. I guess I can cut back. The arm doesn't hurt that much anymore. They just help me sleep more than anything."

"Having trouble sleeping?"

"Some."

"How much is some?"

"Off and on. I have bad dreams sometimes."

"That's understandable. Have you seen a counselor yet?"

"I have to see one before I can go back to work, but not yet, no."

"Why not?"

"Been busy."

"Look, Ray..."

Holding up a hand, face red, Ray cautioned. "Don't say it. I know. I know I should see someone about this and I will. Just get off my back about it, okay? I'm tired of everyone ragging my ass." The words came out hard and rushed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like I was ragging your ass."

Hearing the words coming back his way, Ray shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just not ready to talk about this, not to you or anyone else. I still hurt."

"And you will for some time." Barnes paused. "Are you still determined to go to Canada?"

"Yeah. First thing next week if I heal up enough."

"You plan to stay long?"

"Two weeks. I have to be back to get the cast off and start PT."

Barnes nodded, considering the words carefully. "All right then, if you're going to go, I'll get a file ready. You can either carry it or get me a fax number for the hospital in Yellowknife."

"You don't have to do that."

"It's just a precaution." Barnes uncrossed his arms, but still leaned back against the counter. "You're doing remarkably well, but you're far from healthy yet. I just don't want you to end up in another country and not have the information available to let the doctors know your history if something should happen."

"Okay, sure. I guess it's a good idea."

"Good. Now, get dressed. I'm going to write out the new prescriptions and instructions. I'll leave them at the check-out. Make a new appointment with the nurse. I want you back in here with more lab work in 48 hours."

"I just gave."

"And you'll give more until I'm satisfied this infection and anemia are completely cleared up. Any questions?"

"You ever consider I might be anemic because you keep taking blood?"

Barnes smiled, shaking his head as he headed out the door. "I'll see you in a couple of days, Ray."

Getting off the table, Ray reached for his clothes, but sat down quickly on a nearby stool as the dizziness hit him again. Lowering his head, he waited for it to pass and then carefully dressed himself. He prayed he could get out the door and home without Fraser having to carry him over his shoulder like a useless sack of nothing, like the hollow ache he lugged around in his gut most of the time now.

"What's that?"

Fraser lifted his head after he put the carton into the shopping cart. "Dr. Barnes said he wanted you to start drinking at least two of these a day. They're more economical if we buy a bulk unit."

"It's a waste of money. I'm not drinking that shit."

"Ray..."

"Put it back."

"No."

"No?"

"No." Fraser stepped closer, his voice a bit lower, but firm. "You want to leave for Canada on time, then you follow the doctor's orders to the letter. Otherwise the trip might be cancelled until spring."

"That's blackmail."

"I wouldn't have to resort to extortion if you weren't so stubborn."

"Look who's talking. Your middle name's pig-headed."

"I do believe we're back to the kettle-pot metaphor, Ray."

Ray shut his eyes and shook his head, too tired to keep dealing with an obstinate Mountie in the middle of a drugstore. "Okay, okay, you win."

"Thank you kindly."

As Ray proceeded to push the cart, Fraser added Gatorade and a pound of decaf to their cart. Ray reached in and put the coffee back on the shelf. "Forget about it."

"You're not sleeping well. Reducing your caffeine intake only seems prudent."

"Then I'll cut back on coffee after dinner. I'm not giving up real coffee."

Reluctantly, Fraser gave in. He studied Ray a moment. "You look tired. Perhaps I should pay for this and then come back for the prescriptions later."

"We're already here. No need to make an extra trip."

"I just don't want you to tax your strength."

"I'm leaning on the cart here like a little old lady, Fraser. I think I can handle walking around a little bit."

"It's just that you sometimes tend to ignore your physical limits."

Ray sighed and didn't look up. "You worry too much. Just stop it. I'm doing a lot better. Barnes said so." Fraser didn't answer, but his jaw clenched as he tugged at his ear. "What? You don't think I'm better?"

"Well, yes, Ray, you're improving, but you still need proper care and tending to fully recover."

"But I don't need to treated like some kid, Fraser. I can make my own decisions about what I will and will not do."

Fraser straightened, his tone suddenly more icy. "You think I'm treating you like a child?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you implied it."

"Well, yeah, maybe, but I didn't mean it to hurt your feelings. I just need to do what I need to do."

"Which means what, exactly?"

Ray stood up and held out his hand, anger swarming through his head. "Give me the keys."

"What?"

"I said give me the damn keys. I'll wait in the car."

"Ray, it's cold outside."

"Not as cold as Canada."

"Well, no, but..."

"So, give me the keys. It's better than me losing it right here in the middle of the fucking store. I'll wait outside."

Fraser read his mood quickly and then nodded as he fished for the keys in his pocket. "Very well. I'll be out shortly."

Without answering, Ray walked away, his head buzzing and full of shit he wanted to do like kick down the wall or smash out a few windows. Outside, he pulled up his collar against the cold wind and drizzle as he headed to the car, the old Buick they'd borrowed from Frannie. He got in the passenger's side and sat back, closing his eyes, working to calm down, to pull back in before he exploded all over the place.

Ray absolutely hated the way Fraser took over, wanted to run things. Problem was, he also loved that about him, too, how he didn't have to worry about details, because Fraser knew how to do details better than anybody in the whole fucking universe. Didn't make it any easier to deal with when it came down to the personal boundaries though, down to the line that he didn't want anybody, not even Fraser, to cross.

Swallowing hard, Ray thought about control, how he needed it now after so long, to regain it, to master it, to know that he had some way to be the one who called the shots in his own life. Sure, he could give in to Fraser sometimes, wanted to, liked it because he knew Fraser needed to be in charge, too. Still, there had to be limits, a point where he said what he wanted or didn't want, what he would or would not do. Fraser had to respect that, regardless of how banged up Ray was, no matter how fucked up he ended up. Bottom line, he couldn't keep being pushed around, not unless he wanted to end up like he did with Stella, unable to make up his own mind about something as simple as being a boxer or even checking out dirty magazines unless he did it on the sly.

Squeezing his eyes shut even harder, he fought down the rising anger, the frustration. He worked to calm himself, to stop overreacting, leaping when he should just stand still and keep breathing, not cut off his nose to spite his fucking face.

He loved Fraser and Fraser loved him. Simple. He just needed to get some perspective and breathe a little deeper before he blew his damn head off.

The knock on the glass startled him and turned to see Fraser motion for him to unlock the doors. He flipped up the locks and sighed as Fraser loaded the groceries, dreading the apology. As soon as Fraser opened the door and got into the driver's seat, Ray cleared his throat and tried not to mumble. "I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About acting like a jerk."

Fraser turned in the seat, concerned, but not angry. "This has to be very frustrating for you." Fraser reached out and brushed his cheek lightly. "Sometimes I can be a bit overwhelming, but I do mean well, Ray. I love you. I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to take over your life."

"I know that. I didn't mean to make it sound like I don't appreciate everything you're doing."

"Still, you can't help but resent giving up some control in your life. It's only natural. You haven't been able to do what you've wanted for almost a month now. I would no doubt feel the same way were our positions reversed." A small smile thinned his lips. "And I do believe that you'd be just as zealous until I got better."

"Zealous, huh?"

"Oh, yes, Ray. I'm looking forward to your full recovery with great anticipation. I'm doing everything I can to make that happen as quickly as possible."

Ray's throat dried at the impact of the words. "I get that. You want me well, I want to be well. I think we're on the same page here."

"We just need to agree on an interpretation of how to achieve that goal."

"How about together?"

Fraser nodded, his face more relaxed. "Agreed. Now, I think we should go home so you can eat and get some rest."

"I thought we were going to go get some clothes and gear for the trip."

"Perhaps later this evening."

"Compromise. I'll eat, take a nap like a good boy, and then we'll hit the stores this afternoon."

"Done."

Ray nodded, a lot less fearful as Fraser started the engine and pulled out into traffic.

Ray woke up and rubbed his eyes, surprised by the flickering light from the TV. Fraser never watched television alone. Getting up slowly, he steadied himself and walked into the living room to find Frannie sitting next to Dief on the sofa, both woman and wolf intently watching THE YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS.

"Hey, Frannie. Where's Fraser?"

"Hey, yourself, Bro." She put down the potato chips and stood up, shooing Dief off the sofa and motioning for Ray to sit down. "He had to run some errands."

Ray settled onto the couch while she went to the kitchen and brought him back a small bottle of apple juice and a pill. "Fraser told me to give you this as soon as you woke up."

Popping the medicine and swigging the juice, Ray drank about half before putting it on the table. "What errands?"

Frannie shook her head. "He didn't say."

"He call you over to baby sit?"

"Of course not. I was going to come by anyway." Frannie didn't meet his eyes as she got up and turned off the TV. She never did lie worth shit. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. I'm good. You?"

Shaking her head, she crossed her arms. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better, Ray."

"Lie about what?"

Again, she didn't look up, but leaned forward, her hands together. "You know."

Fuck. "Frannie, listen, I don't know what to say."

"Say it hasn't been going on under my nose all the time I've been making a big, fat fool of myself."

"It hasn't, and you're not a big, fat fool. Hey, who wouldn't throw herself at a guy who looks like Fraser?"

Frannie shook her head, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "It's not just about that. Sure, he's about the most gorgeous man on the planet, but it's not about how he looks, never has been. He's a good man." She finally raised her head and met his eyes. "You know I'm divorced, right?"

"Yeah. Same here."

"Oh, yeah, we all know about Mrs. High and Mighty, I'm Too Good to Be Married to a Cop Stella."

Considering the situation, Ray gave her a pass on the bitchiness and prompted, "What about your divorce?"

"It was ugly. I married him straight out of high school, because in my family that's what you do. You find a guy, you marry him, and have a house full of babies."

"So why didn't that happen?"

"Because he was a pig. He cheated on me with everybody." She paused as she emphasized the last word. "I mean everybody, Ray, man or woman, it didn't matter."

"I'm sorry."

Frannie waved a hand in dismissal as he continued her story. "Then I met Fraser." She stopped, her eyes big, her words breathy. "He was so beautiful that first time I saw him. Ray brought him home and I thought my heart would just split open. I couldn't take my eyes off him."

"Or since."

"Like you've got room to talk. I'll bet you did the same thing with Stella."

Grudgingly, Ray nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"Anyway, he was working with Ray a lot and I got to know him, how smart and kind and just how good he is. He's not like any man I've ever met, nothing like the men in my family."

"He's not like anybody else, Frannie. Fraser is Fraser, one of a kind."

"Yeah, he is. I just can't believe I missed something so important about him. I mean, I never once had a clue he might be gay."

"He's not."

Frannie sat back and rolled her eyes, her words biting. "Call it whatever you want, but he's still sleeping with you, so to me that's gay, okay?"

"And are you okay with that?"

"No."

Ray bit his lip, her pain almost like another knife to his throat. "He never meant to hurt you. You know he really cares about you. We both do."

"I know. Doesn't make it hurt less."

"I'm sorry."

Frannie sighed and crossed her arms. "I always thought I was good about spotting gays."

"Spotting gays? What's that, some kind of sport?"

"At my house, in my neighborhood, yeah."

That hurt, made Ray worry about what might be said about him and Fraser when it all came out. "Your mom know about us?"

"Yeah. She hasn't said anything, but she's not stupid. After the hospital, there's no way she couldn't know."

"What about the hospital?"

"What do you remember?"

Ray cleared his throat and then reached for the bottle of apple juice. He finished it off and then worked to keep calm. "To be honest, I don't remember much. Pain mostly. And Fraser."

"Yeah, Fraser. He was there almost the whole time. Wouldn't leave your side. When you were in surgery for your arm, Ma and me, we showed up and he was sitting in the waiting room, head down, crying." Her voice choked. "I'd never seen him cry before, not even when he got shot in the back that time. I don't know what he would've done if he'd lost you."

Ray blinked away his own tears, gut clenched at the thought of Fraser so upset and so alone. "He's my partner, Frannie. Even guys cry when their partners get hurt. That didn't necessarily mean we're gay."

"No, but I saw how Ma acted when Pop died and my friend Martha when her Vinnie got sick. It was the same thing, the same pain. He loves you, Ray. No way can I can compete with that. Hell, there's no way I'd want to. I had my shot, but he wasn't interested. Seems he only has eyes for criminals and partners."

Ray's head came up. "Partners?"

Frannie snorted, smiling for the first time. "Not partners like my brother. Partners like you, you doofus."

"Just checkin'."

Smile faded, Frannie shook her head. "I don't know what the hell Ray's going to say when he hears about this."

"He's not going to find out until he comes back."

"No, but he'll come back someday."

"How do you think he'll take it?"

"I love my brother..."

Shit. "But?"

"But he's not the most open-minded son of a bitch. He's not going to like it and he's not shy about complaining about what he doesn't like."

"You saying that he'll hurt Fraser?"

"Knowing Ray, he'll shout and then think later." Before Ray could protest, she raised a hand. "Don't worry. He loves Fraser like a brother. He'll get over it, but it might take some time. You and Fraser, well, you've just got to be patient. It's not easy to get used to the idea that the guy you thought was one way turns out to be something completely different."

"He's not that different, Frannie."

"Trust me on this, Ray. In my head and in my brother's head, he's different. For the past three years I've thought about him in a certain way, a way I will not talk about, and now I find out that he's that way with you, and there's no way he'll ever be the way I thought he was."

"He's still your friend though. So am I, if you'll have me."

"Wouldn't be here if I held it against you."

"Thanks." Ray hesitated before he asked the next question. "Does Fraser know that you know?"

"No, but I figure he will after you spill the coffee."

"It's the beans, Frannie."

"Beans, coffee, who cares? The point is, I don't want to tell him and I'm not going to talk to him about it." Her face flushed. "It's just too humiliating."

"You don't have to feel that way."

"Don't tell me how to feel, Ray. It's bad enough that I lost the best guy in the world to the dope playing my brother. I don't need your pity on top of it."

"Dope? Who you calling a dope?"

"If the pump fits."

Ray sat back and shook his head in amusement. "It's shoe."

"Shoe, pump, sandal. You're missing the point."

"Which is what?"

"That you're family." Ray couldn't speak, couldn't even swallow. "So, I guess in a way, it's like Fraser's my brother-in-law." Her voice softened. "And I want that to be okay. I need to be all right with that idea, but it's going to take some time. Just give me some time to get used to it, that's all."

"Sure." He stumbled over his thoughts, not really sure what to say, so he kept it simple. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For thinking of me as family."

"Well, considering yours sucks to high Heaven and you're risking your skinny Polish ass to protect my brother's butt, it's the least I can do."

Ray couldn't argue, so he nodded as he leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did Fraser say when he'd be back?"

"Just that he'd be gone a couple of hours." She studied him with a frown. "You don't look so good. You want something to eat?"

"No, I'm good."

Frannie didn't argue, but she wasn't convinced, either. She picked up the bag of chips and held them out to Ray. "Here. Have one. We'll catch the end of YOUNG AND THE RESTLESS or you can watch that stupid hockey stuff."

"Hockey's on? What channel?"

Turning on the set, Frannie switched it to the sports network. She handed Ray the remote and went to the kitchen. "I'm having coffee. Want some?"

"Sure, I can do coffee." He watched the game with growing enthusiasm, lost in the wild thwack of the puck and the call of the announcer.

Frannie handed him a cup of coffee and then sat down in the chair, slipping Dief a couple of potato chips as she smirked at the game. "What is this, thugs on ice? Look at those guys. What a bunch of bozos."

Instead of being annoyed, Ray gathered his strength and argued, smiling and fussing, just like old times, glad he had a sister to mess with.

"Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Reese."

Reese stood up and motioned to a chair in front of his desk. "It's no problem, Constable. As a courtesy to your government, we offer human resources to all Canadian personnel in the city."

"Will it be confidential?"

"Yes. The only exception, of course, is if you threatened to harm yourself or someone else."

"Of course. I understand." Fraser hesitated and then added, "I'd like to keep this private. I'd rather not have my superior officer know I've resorted to counseling." He didn't add how much Inspector Thatcher's opinion mattered, how much he hated that it did.

"This isn't mandated, so there's no reason for people to know unless you wish to tell them."

"Thank you."

Reese sat down, moved his seat closer to the desk, and then turned his full attention on Fraser. "Now, before we begin, I must tell you that I can't discuss anything that your partner shared with me during our sessions. I hope that won't be a problem."

"No, I'm not really here about Ray. Well, that's not exactly true. I am here because of Ray, but this isn't really about Ray, not as such."

"Excuse me?"

Fraser shifted uneasily in his chair and pulled at his collar. "One of the reasons I wanted to speak with you was because you're already aware of the situation with my partner."

"Yes?"

"And I suppose I was hoping that would make it less difficult to explain why I'm here."

"Why are you here, Constable?"

"I'm not sure."

"Are you certain about that? You don't strike me as a man who would go to the trouble of seeing a counselor if you didn't know why."

Fraser stood up and walked to the window, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. No matter how many times he'd rehearsed in his head, his tongue still stumbled over the words. "Are you aware that Clooney made a tape of Ray's assault?"

"I didn't know that, no."

Blinking hard, his throat choked, Fraser struggled to speak. "I've been an officer of the law for all of my adult life. I took a sacred oath to defend the rights of all people, and for the most part, I'm good at my job. Despite that, I couldn't protect the one person I care most about in the world."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Impotent, angry, guilty, and incredibly sad." Fraser stopped and quickly brushed away a tear before he regained the use of his voice. "I suppose I'm here because I need to find a way to deal with all these intrusive feelings."

"Have you told your partner about these feelings?"

"He needs to focus on his own recovery. In fact, I feel guilty blathering on about this when he's the one who had to endure the actual ra..., that is, the assault. However, though I've tried a variety of ways to contain and channel these emotions and impulses, nothing seems to work for any length of time." Fraser turned towards Reese, his eyes pleading. "I suppose I'm here because I need your advice on how to deal with the negative impact of my partner's brutal attack."

"You started to say something instead of assault, Constable. I think you should say it. Your partner wasn't just assaulted."

Fraser closed his eyes, the grotesque images of Clooney hurting Ray flooding his brain. It took him several long moments before he responded. "He was raped. He still doesn't remember what happened, but I saw the tape. In some ways I envy his lack of recollection."

Reese sat back in his chair, his face pinched and serious. "May I call you Ben?"

"I prefer Fraser."

"Okay, Fraser, we need to talk about several things before I think I can help you deal with this trauma."

"It's Ray's trauma."

"But it's yours as well. Tell me about your relationship with Ray."

"We're partners."

"At work, yes, but is it more than that?"

Fraser swallowed down his fear of exposure and said the words out loud. "We're partners in every sense of the word."

"Intimate partners?"

"Yes."

"Rape and trauma don't just affect the survivor, but all the people who care about him or her. In this case, you're the one closest to the immediate fallout. Dealing with this won't be easy for either one of you."

"It's harder for Ray."

"This isn't a contest."

"I didn't mean to suggest that it was."

"No, but you also don't seem to be able to accept that you have a valid reason for the strong reaction you're having to what happened."

Fraser didn't respond right away. Instead, he settled in the chair across from Reese, but didn't look up. "I'm very uncomfortable with strong emotions."

"Why is that?"

"I suppose it's because I was always told that men weren't supposed cry or show those kind of feelings. Regardless of whatever progressive psychological research I've read that supports the opposing theory, that early developmental model stays with me."

"Your parents told you not to cry or show emotion?"

"My mother was murdered when I was six. I rarely saw my father. I was raised by my paternal grandparents. They came from the generation that believed showing strong emotions meant a loss of self-control, the ultimate sin for a Fraser."

"Your mother was murdered when you were just a child?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you became a member of the RCMP?

"My father was an officer as well. I came to Chicago on the trail of his killers."

Reese sat up straighter and nodded with recognition. "I remember the story now. He was killed by a fellow officer, a man you sent to prison." The doctor paused and studied Fraser with a deeper regard. "I'm sorry. That had to be difficult for you."

"That, I believe, would be a classic understatement."

"Do you have any family left?"

"I consider Ray to be family."

"I see."

Fraser almost smiled, remembering Ray's easy irritation at his own habit of saying those words. "Ray and I have been best friends since we became partners. It's only recently that we admitted to other aspects of our relationship."

"You mean sex?"

"I was speaking of romantic love, but, yes, sex is a part of that."

"Do you consider yourself homosexual?"

Fraser shrugged, uneasy with the shift in the discussion. "I'm more attracted to men than women, but I have had a relationship with a woman, disastrous as that was."

"Why disastrous?"

"She was a criminal I sent to prison." Fraser stopped, not ready to reveal the rest of that story. "It ended badly."

"In what way?"

"I'd rather not talk about that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's got nothing to do with my feelings for Ray. He's nothing like Victoria or anyone else I've been with. He trusts and loves me and I feel the same about him."

"Do you?"

Fraser's head came up. "I beg your pardon?"

"You say you love him, and I believe you, but do you really trust him?"

"Of course I do."

"Have you told him that you're here?"

Fraser flushed deeply. "No."

"Why not?"

"I suppose I didn't want to deal with his reaction."

"Which would be?"

"Negative."

"And?"

"He might also feel hurt, upset that I didn't trust him enough to share my problems like I try to induce him to share his."

Reese tapped a pencil on his paper and nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Trust is always one of the most difficult things to achieve in any relationship."

"It's not Ray. He's the most trustworthy man I've ever met, well, at least about most things."

"What does that mean, about most things?"

Fraser hesitated, not sure he could talk about Ray's struggle with addictions. "It wouldn't be fair for me to say. Besides, this isn't about Ray. This is about my own trust issues. I realize that. I don't always trust myself, therefore I sometimes project that suspicion onto Ray."

"Does this mistrust lead to problems between the two of you?"

"I can't deny that our most heated arguments do tend to be about trust as well as control."

"Control? Explain that."

Fraser sighed and stood up again, unable to think about the fear that he might lose his partner, might fail to help him recover. "Ray is sometimes his worst enemy, or seems to be. He's very resistant to following doctor's orders. I want him to be healthy, so sometimes I do tend to overreact, to take charge. He resents when I try to dominate him, which I confess, is a valid complaint."

"Do you consider yourself domineering?"

"No, but I do like to control aspects of our lives that really aren't mine to control. I understand the problem, but I don't seem to know what to do to change it." Fraser stepped to the window, his eyes trained to the outside, but his mind seeing a whole different picture, a flash of Ray's bloody and battered body. He closed his eyes briefly as he rubbed his forehead. "I'm afraid of losing him."

"Do you think that's a realistic fear?"

"In the beginning, yes. He almost died and he's been very ill since then. Still, with proper treatment, he should recover. In some ways, I'm more afraid now than I was then."

"Are you afraid of rejection?"

"I don't question his love."

"That's not what I asked. Are you afraid that he'll change his mind about the relationship once he's physically healed and he won't be as dependent on your care?"

"Ray told me that he most admired me because of my self-control, my ability to seem calm when everything else is chaotic. He values that greatly. I suppose my fear is that he'll see the truth about me and not like what he sees."

"Because you don't like what you see?"

Fraser turned and met Reese's intent brown eyes, surprised at hearing the words outside his head. "Exactly. My self-image never seems to correspond to what others perceive."

"You think that if Ray sees you as you see yourself, he'll leave."

Nodding, Fraser once again found his seat, his chest tight. "I suppose that's why I'm here. If I can't master my own fears and insecurities, how can I possibly help Ray deal with his?"

"You realize that's a very tall order."

"Perhaps, but I want to try."

"That's the best way to start."

Ray squeezed his eyes shut, pulling up the blanket and working hard not to wake up completely. Vaguely, he heard whispers and thank you kindlys before the door shut. Barely opening one eye, he smiled when he saw Fraser kneeling beside the sofa ready to kiss his forehead.

"Hey."

Fraser pulled back, startled. "You're awake."

"Not yet. Where's Frannie?"

Combing his fingers lovingly through Ray's hair, Fraser studied his face as he spoke quietly. "She had to leave. You look pale."

Ray closed his eyes again, and took several deep breaths, savoring Fraser's soft touches. "Where you been?" Contact stopped abruptly and Fraser stood up to go to the kitchen. Ray opened his eyes, fully awake. "Fraser?"

"I needed to run a few errands. I thought it best that you rested."

"That's what Frannie said. By the way, I don't need a baby sitter, but thanks anyway."

"I just wasn't comfortable leaving you alone and Francesca mentioned she intended to visit. It seemed a good way to accomplish both purposes."

"She knows about us."

Fraser turned from the counter, frowning. "She spoke to you about it?"

"Yeah. She's embarrassed, but she seems okay with it, well, as okay as she can be considering how she feels about you."

"Oh, dear." Fraser shook his head. "I never wanted to hurt her."

"She knows that. It's just hard when you love someone and they don't feel the same way."

"Are you relating her feelings to how you felt about Stella?"

"Not everything's about Stella, but, yeah, maybe in this case I am. It was tough still being in love when she wasn't. So, I guess that makes me feel a little bit more for Frannie than I would if it was just any lady who had the hots for the guy I love."

Fraser flushed. "I appreciate that."

"What? That I feel bad that she's unhappy or that I love you?"

"Both, I suppose."

Ray sat up and rubbed his eyes before patting the cushion beside him. "Have a seat and tell me where you went." Fraser closed his eyes briefly, suddenly more tense. "Fraser, you're acting funny. What's up? The Ice Queen call and want you to cancel leave or something?"

Reluctantly, Fraser sat down beside Ray as he shook his head. "Nothing like that, Ray. No, this was something I needed to do. I'm uncomfortable because, frankly, I'm not sure quite how you're going to react."

"React to what?"

"I probably should've told you before I made the appointment, but I was afraid that if I did that, I might not follow through."

"Fraser, quit stallin' and just tell me what the fuck you did. What appointment?"

"I made an appointment with Dr. Reese."

The room got suddenly very still. Even Dief stopped moving and stayed hunkered down on the rug. Ray didn't speak for several long moments. "You made an appointment with Reese? For me?"

"No, Ray, for me."

"For you? What for?"

Rubbing his eyebrow and avoiding Ray's questioning stare, Fraser swallowed several times before he found his voice. "I felt the need for an objective ear."

"Objective ear? You went to a shrink because you needed someone to talk to? What am I, chopped liver?"

Fraser turned and shook his head. "I love you, but you're anything but objective when it comes to me."

Crossing his arms, Ray snapped, "So, you had a session with Reese because you think my opinions aren't good enough?"

"Not at all. Your opinions matter a great deal. The problem is, sometimes we're more alike than is prudent when it comes to addressing situations which disturb us."

"What's that mean?"

"It means we both avoid dealing with difficult issues sometimes."

"Nothing wrong with a little avoidance, Fraser, not when it comes to stuff that sucks."

"Perhaps, but sometimes we need to face our fears, Ray."

"You saying I don't face my fears enough?"

"I'm saying I don't. This wasn't about you, Ray. It was about me. I needed to do this." His throat dried, confession even harder than he expected. "I've found increasingly difficult to maintain my composure when dealing with this situation."

"You mean being with me?"

"No, Ray, I mean knowing that I couldn't stop what happened to you."

"What the fuck are you talking about? You think you're responsible for me getting hurt?"

"I couldn't stop it."

Ray's voice softened as he turned sideways on the sofa, the blanket pushed back out of the way. "You dumb Canadian, even the cops and Feds couldn't stop what happened. You think you're bigger and badder than all those tough guys put together?"

Fraser closed his eyes as he lowered his head. "I know intellectually what you say is true, but..."

"You don't believe it deep down?"

"No. I keep going over it in my head, trying different scenarios, trying to figure out what I did wrong, how I could've protected you better. Nothing seems to help."

"So you're obsessing about it, huh?"

"Yes, along with other things. I needed to talk to someone who has some emotional distance and psychological expertise to help me come up with constructive strategies to control these insidious feelings."

Ray touched his cheek gently. "Yeah, I know how those feelings get to you sometimes. So, you feel better?"

Fraser lifted his head and met Ray's eyes as he captured the hand at his face. He kissed the palm, his tongue quickly licking the center before he pulled back. "Not better, no, but different. Dr. Reese's perspectives are rather insightful. He gave me some ideas to ponder."

"Any homework? The guy's a freak about that kind of shit."

"Exercises, yes. For one, he wants me to start keeping a journal."

"I thought you already did that."

"I do, but this is a different type of journal, one where I'm to address my emotional reactions rather than a simple accounting of my day."

Still allowing Fraser to hold his hand, Ray studied the deep blue eyes. "You can do that, write about stuff like that? It won't bother you?"

"I think the fact that it will bother me is the point."

"I don't get it."

"If I'm to master these feelings, I must confront them, express them. I can't do that if I don't put them in some kind of logical order outside myself. Right now I feel a great deal of anxiety about what's happened. I think Dr. Reese's suggestion is not without merit."

Ray shook his head in admiration. "That takes guts, Fraser. I couldn't do that."

"Have you tried?"

"I don't write that great, never have."

"You write all the time, Ray. Your reports are always quite thorough, if not entertaining at times."

Ray chuckled and shrugged as he leaned in closer, letting Fraser wrap his arms around him. "I guess that's why Welsh says they're a joke, huh?"

"Seriously, Ray, you're not a bad writer."

"But that's work, Fraser. I write down the facts, fill in the blank stuff, nothing about how I think the scumbag should be locked up or shot. It's not the same thing."

"Perhaps not, but I think you underestimate your expressive abilities."

"Not when it comes to writing. I used to cut school sometimes to avoid turning in papers. I had to take summer school for English twice so I could finally graduate, just barely. I ain't good at that stuff. And if you want me to write about how I'm feeling, it's like I got this brick wall between me and the paper. I just can't put it down so it makes any sense."

"Have you ever tried drawing what you feel?"

"Drawing?"

"I've seen you draw on several occasions, Ray. You're actually quite good."

Ray turned in his arms, wondering if Fraser got kicked in the head or something. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Those sketches you make in your personal notes."

"Those are just so I can remember stuff better."

"I know, and I'm saying, they're quite well done. When I see one of your extemporaneous images, I usually know what it means without reading the narrative. I'm just suggesting, that perhaps it might be easier for you to find a way of expressing yourself graphically rather than through writing."

"You think I draw okay?"

"Yes, I do."

Nodding, warmed by Fraser's strong praise, Ray settled back against him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I still don't want to keep a journal though."

"It was just a suggestion. It might help you deal with some of your anxiety."

"Right now all I want to deal with is thinking about getting out of this place for a while. I was thinking we should go shopping for clothes and then figure out what we need to take with us next week."

Arms tightened around him as Fraser kissed the top of his head. "It doesn't bother you that I'm going to keep seeing Dr. Reese?"

"I'm trying not to think about that right now."

"I gathered that by your attempt to change the subject."

"Didn't work, huh?"

"Seriously, Ray, I need to know. If it bothers you, I can find someone else."

"I'm not sure how I feel. I mean, if you need to see somebody, I guess that's okay. But, why Reese?"

"I like him."

"Even though I thought he was a prick?"

"Even though, yes."

"Why?"

"For one, he seemed genuinely concerned about you when you were hurt, but it's more than that. He's also professional, and he's very focused. I need that, Ray. I need someone who's not going to be swayed by my tendency to lead conversations or shy away from difficult subjects."

"Yeah, he's tough, that's true."

"If you don't mind my asking, what was it about his approach that bothered you so much?"

Ray tightened at the memories of his two intense sessions. He forced himself to block it out, to not think about feeling so trapped, so out of control of his own life. "It wasn't just him. It was me. I know that. I resented being forced to be there. Still do. It should be up to me if I want to go or not. It pisses me off that they don't give me that choice, that to keep my job I've got to go spill my guts to some stranger. I guess if I'm fair, I took that out on Reese."

"Do you think it will be better when you start again with someone else?"

"I don't know. Guess I don't have a lot of choice about finding out." A wave of quick anger hit him again. He sat up and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head down. "Look, I'm glad it's okay for you, that you can talk to somebody if that's what you need, but shit, Fraser, the point is you get to choose and I don't. I hate it."

Fraser rubbed small circles into his back, the touch soothing, calming. "I'm sorry, Ray. I wish there were something I could do or say that would make the prospect less threatening."

Shaking his head, Ray took a deep breath and stood up, the anxiety back to full force. "It's not about threatening. I'm not threatened by that shit. I just don't see the fucking point. It's stupid. Some asshole listens to you bitch and moan and talk about stuff you can't change and then he wants you to tell him what it feels like to get kicked senseless, like that's some kind of fucking joke, like there's anything on this fucking earth that you can say that will make it better. Nothing he says or you say makes it better, nothing. Like I said, I just don't see the point of going through that, but I am not, I repeat, I am not threatened by some shrink who doesn't know dick about what I've been through."

"I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to make you so angry."

"I'm not mad at you. I'm just, I don't know, I'm just pissed about this whole shrink thing. Seems like everybody's on my case to get started, and I'm not ready. Hell, I don't know if I'll ever be ready." Ray stopped for a moment and stared down at Fraser, his voice not as tense. "But I hope it works for you. Fuck, Fraser, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't want you to feel bad because you got hooked up with me. It wasn't your fault and if you need someone like Reese to convince you of that, well, then do it."

Fraser stood up and took Ray in his arms. "You enrich my life, Ray. I just wish I could make it easier for you and I think I can do that more effectively if I settle my own mind about some troubling, rather deep-seated personal issues."

Ray dropped his head to Fraser's shoulder, letting the rage drain out, wanting to just let his partner hold him like nothing else mattered around them. The hug charged him up, went right to his dick, made him flushed and suddenly hot all over. "Just so long as you don't think I blame you for what happened, because I don't, not ever."

"I know and I thank you for that."

"No need for thanks. It's the truth." Ray turned his head and kissed the side of Fraser's neck and then moved to capture his mouth. Pulling back, he whispered, "Any objections to a quick nap together?"

"Nap?"

"Your mouth, my hand, that kind of napping. Just thinking about it makes me hard." Ray smiled and took Fraser's hand, sliding it down the space between them to push against his bulging cock. "Feel that?" Breath hitched, Fraser nodded without speaking, his eyes never leaving Ray's hungry gaze. "Yeah, yeah, you feel that. You know you do that to me, right?

Hips shoved toward him, Fraser's own budding erection his answer. Ray guided him into the bedroom, his mind focused on being with Fraser, feeling good again, not thinking about anything other than that wonderful mouth, that safe harbor from pain.

Naked under the covers, Ray leaned against Fraser, his mind sleepy, his whole body relaxed, his partner's strong arms around him. Coming took on a whole new meaning when he came with Fraser. He sighed, contented as Fraser kissed his neck and laced his fingers through his right hand. Fraser lifted it to his face and breathed in deeply.

"Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"You sniffing my hand again?"

"It would seem so, yes."

"Freak."

"Understood." Fraser kissed him again and rested his chin on the top of Ray's head. "You make me extremely happy, Ray."

"Yeah, I sort of got that. Same here."

"You seem to be feeling a lot better. I take it the new medication is working to improve your condition."

"Yeah, I guess. I'm still kind of sluggish, but yeah, I feel better. Of course, it helps to have mind-blowing sex with a Mountie. Gives a whole new meaning to the saying, clearing one's head."

The soft chuckle shook both of them as Fraser lifted Ray's hand and held it up like a prize. "You have beautiful hands, Ray. So graceful and elegant, much like the rest of you."

"Graceful and elegant?"

"Yes, and talented."

"Well, talented I get." Ray pulled his hand back down, bringing Fraser's with it, and rested it over his heart. "I'm glad it's good for you, Fraser. I know it's damn fine for me." He paused, his voice lower. "I've never in my whole life had anybody do that for me."

"Stella never performed fellatio?"

"She tried, but she hated it, so after a while, I just stopped asking. But you, you're incredible. I mean, my God, Fraser, you swallow me whole. How the hell do you do that?"

"One must relax the throat muscles and suppress the gag reflex. It takes practice, but I've found the results to be well worth the effort."

"I'll say." Ray hesitated. "But is it really good for you? I mean, do you really like doing it?"

Fraser squeezed him with a quick laugh. "Indeed, I do." He whispered in Ray's ear. "I love sucking you off, Ray."

The crude words from Fraser's mouth made his cock tingle, eager to get up and try again, have that gorgeous mouth back in business. Unfortunately, recovery took longer than a few minutes. "You have any idea how hot it is to hear you say stuff like that?" Fraser's hand slipped down and stroked Ray's slowly reviving dick several times as his teeth nipped the side of Ray's neck. He arched back, complaining, "God, you're a fucking tease, Fraser."

Fraser rolled his balls, fondling him, his touches electric. Ray's dick hardened, ever so slowly, the ache deep down, his thighs shaking with anticipation. Fraser's hand wrapped around the cock and pumped him as his tongue and mouth explored his neck with licks and kisses. Ray moaned, the heat growing, the delicious fire easing up through his belly once again. "Fraser, Jesus, I just came."

Fraser growled deep in his throat as he suckled harder, his teeth marking Ray's skin. His hand stayed busy, the rhythm growing more steady as Ray's cock responded, grew harder, burning for more. Hips thrust into Fraser's hand, matching the action, Ray's whimpers lost in the fury of wanting more, needing to come, taking forever. Air thinned, Ray's panting caught up in the sudden rush of ecstasy that hit out of nowhere, his whole body shooting off at once. The raw scream caught him off guard, his mouth suddenly covered with Fraser's, the spasms ripping his spine from his body. Fraser's tongue probed deeper, blocking all air, meeting moan for moan. He couldn't stop coming, each wave like splashes of goodness everywhere at once.

Eyes still closed, he fell back, completely at the mercy of the man he loved. Fraser washed his face with more kisses, his hands all over, his tongue like magic. Ray struggled for air and finally managed a breathy, "Fuck, Fraser."

"Maybe next time, Ray."

Laughing out loud, Ray opened his eyes to see the hunger in those blue eyes, the fire he rarely got to see so close. He lay on his back, Fraser stretched out on top of him, their bodies sweaty and slick. He shook his head in amazement as he caressed Fraser's cheek. "What the fuck was that?"

"Sometimes the second climax is more intense than the first."

"But how did you know I could even get it up?"

Fraser dipped down and kissed him again, this time his tongue lazy and possessive. When he pulled back, he spoke in a hush. "I've never been this responsive to anyone, Ray. I just hoped you felt the same way."

"So you got hard again and you wanted me to join the ride, huh?"

"Thankfully, you appear to have enjoyed the activity as well."

Laughing, Ray hooked the back of his neck with his right hand. "Enjoyed? Yeah, you could say that." Closing his eyes, drinking in the rich scent of their sex mixed together, he wanted to slip down into sleep, the comfort of Fraser's embrace like a call to nothing but pleasant dreams.

Fraser's voice nudged him back to awareness, but just barely. "We need to clean up, Ray."

"Later."

"Ray, please. We need to shower and change the sheets."

"Ever the practical Mountie."

"You'll thank me later, Ray. Nobody likes to sleep in the wet spot."

"Love's a messy game, Fraser."

Fraser kissed him again in agreement, his tongue still wild and starving. Ray returned the favor and decided he and Fraser could live with wet spots just a little while longer.

"We need to make a list before we head out to the stores, Ray. Your wardrobe at this point is almost non-existent. We need to restock your closet first and then we can buy what you'll need for the trip."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

"Not necessarily. If we organize, we should be able to accomplish the task in two trips. I recommend we buy your clothes first, come home for lunch and rest, and then, if you're well enough, we can get the other supplies in the afternoon."

Ray stretched out on the sofa under the blanket, his head resting on a pillow as he watched Fraser fixing supper. He wiggled his toes and enjoyed the coziness of just lying back and letting Fraser do the whole domestic thing. "We could've gone out this afternoon."

Fraser turned and smiled, his body relaxed for a change. "I much preferred what we did instead, Ray."

"No complaints from me."

"I should think not."

"Smug bastard."

"My parents were married before I was born, Ray, so that's not entirely accurate. However, I must confess to feeling a trifle smug, so I will concede to part of that description."

"With good reason."

"Thank you kindly."

Ray chuckled, amused by Fraser's light tone. Who knew it took amazing sex to get the guy to loosen up? Hell, he hadn't had sex that good for a while, either, so he felt pretty damn fine himself. "I don't really need that many clothes, Fraser. Jeans, T-shirts, some underwear and socks. Nothing fancy."

Fraser shook his head as he returned to peeling the potatoes. "You need everything, Ray. You don't even have a good suit left."

"I don't really need a suit right away."

"True, but you will eventually. The point is, we need to make a list and we can either try to do it all at once or get the basics and do the rest when we return. The main thing is, you need thermal gear for when we travel. Nothing you own is going to be adequate for the weather in Yellowknife in December."

"Cold?"

"It's the arctic. It's frigid by any definition you can imagine. The average temperature can be minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit and that doesn't include the wind chill factor." Ray shivered involuntarily on the sofa as Fraser continued, "Properly outfitted, you should do fine, but there's no way we'll travel until you have a good cold-weather coat, hat, and gloves."

"That's going to cost some bucks, huh?"

Fraser stopped working and turned. He wiped off his hands on the dishtowel tucked around his middle and stepped closer to the sofa. "I can pay for the gear, Ray. You don't have to worry."

"Come on, Fraser. You don't have to do that. I can pay my own way. It's just a lot at one time, that's all."

Fraser sat down on the armrest and shook his head. "You don't understand, Ray. I don't mind. My monthly allotment is automatically deposited to my account and to be quite honest, being single and living at the Consulate, my expenses have been minimal. It's not a hardship."

"Still, I'd feel weird if I thought you thought I couldn't pay my own way."

"I don't think that."

"That's good, because I can. I'll pay for my own stuff, okay? It's not a problem."

"Certainly, Ray, but you know if we're going to be together, we need to eventually sit down and review our financial arrangements."

"You mean like having a joint bank account or something?"

"Well, I have moved in. It's only fair that I pay for part of the living expenses. According to most studies, the two things that cause the most discord in a marriage are sex and money. I don't want those to be problems for us."

Ray sat up a little and smiled. "Well, the sex part is good."

"And I want to be sure that finances are also satisfactory and not a source of conflict."

"Sure, sure, that's fine. I'm not that great with money. Stella used to handle all the bills and shit. I mean, now I just put the check in the bank and then buy what I need. I usually have enough to cover stuff. I try not to use the credit card unless I have to."

"You have a credit card?"

"Don't you?"

"No."

"Never?"

"They're not very feasible in the Yukon."

"But you've been in Chicago three years. You're tellin' me you've never used a credit card?"

"I've never needed one."

"What about when you're renting something or buying plane tickets? They won't let you get that stuff without a card."

"They will if you go in person and pay in cash."

"Canadian or American cash?"

"Depends on the airlines."

Ray took a deep breath, shaking his head, amazed at how differently Fraser lived from anyone he ever knew. "That's pretty damn cool, Fraser. I wish I'd met you years ago before I got in debt up to my ass. Took me ages to pay off those cards. Now I've only got the one, but like I said, I try not to use it. Thing is, I either use the card or go into my savings to replace all the stuff that was destroyed. The insurance check will probably cover it, but that hasn't shown up, probably because I haven't gotten around to filing all the papers yet."

"Insurance?"

"Yeah, renter's insurance. They should pay for the damage and to replace what got ruined. I just have to get a police report and send it to my agent."

"That's excellent news, Ray. Perhaps we can pick up a report tomorrow and file the paperwork right away. The processing might be done by the time we return from the trip."

"And we might get a free trip to Jupiter, too."

"I'm being optimistic on the timeframe?"

"You might say that, yeah."

Fraser shrugged. "At least it will eventually provide reimbursement. That should help alleviate the brunt of the financial burden of replacing what you need."

"Yeah." Ray nodded, trying to block out the images of the destroyed apartment, the mess, the broken bits and pieces of his life. "So, what are we having for supper?"

"Ah, well, I thought I'd go with something simple. Broiled steak, scalloped potatoes, and green beans. For dessert there's Mrs. Vecchio's pineapple cheesecake."

"You trying to fatten me up?"

"May I plead the fifth amendment?"

"Does that apply to Canadians?"

"I certainly hope so." Fraser stood and headed back to the kitchen. He finished putting the potatoes in the dish while he talked. "You can take a short nap if you like. This should be done in about thirty minutes."

Ray chuckled under his breath, pulling the blanket higher. "Two naps in less than an hour are about all I can handle, Fraser."

"I meant the traditional type of nap, Ray."

"We need a different name then. From now on, whenever I hear the word nap, I'm only going to think of one thing, you and the best sex in the whole fucking world."

Fraser flushed a deep red and turned toward him, the bright blue shine in his eyes truly stunning. "I love you, Ray. Sex is only one way to express that."

Ray's voice softened. "I know that, Fraser, I know it's not just about sex and getting laid. I know you love me better than anyone's ever loved me or will ever love me again. I feel the same way. Just wish I hadn't waited 'til I was all busted up to say it."

"The important thing is that it's out in the open now."

"Yeah, I guess."

Frowning, Fraser stepped back out of the kitchen. "What?"

"It's just I hate having to keep it a secret from almost everybody."

"We both knew that was part of it for now. We can't let most people know, at least until the Vecchio assignment is over. Perhaps then we might consider being more open."

The warmth of the moment evaporated. "As long as I'm a cop, it's going to be a problem, Fraser."

"It doesn't necessarily have to be."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that you can be in a gay relationship and still be a police officer in Chicago. Legally, they can't fire you."

"They don't have to. Fraser, I told you how it is here. This isn't Canada. If I stay a cop and want to do my job without extra shit every day, I have to stay in the closet about this."

Fraser's expression hardened as he sat down in the chair across from the sofa. "Will you be able to do that?"

"I don't know."

"So, what exactly are you saying, Ray?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I'm sort of thinking out loud."

"Are you thinking that being together is a bad idea?"

Ray met his eyes, startled. "No, I'm not saying that at all. Jesus, Fraser, I just got up the courage to be with you. I'm not going to give you up just because a bunch of backward assholes can't handle me being a faggot. I'm just not sure I'm going to be able to keep it secret and if I can't do that, then I'm going to have to think about other job options."

"You're thinking about quitting the police force?"

"Maybe."

"What would you do instead?"

"I don't know. I can do lots of stuff."

"Of course you can."

"I guess, I was just throwing it out there so you wouldn't be too shocked if I suddenly said so long to the badge when Vecchio gets back."

Fraser crossed his arms, his eyes studying Ray carefully. "I appreciate you telling me, but it's your decision. I'll support whatever you decide to do."

"What if I told you I wanted to move to Canada?"

Fraser sat back, stunned. "You mean that?"

"I'm thinking about it. I mean, it's a sure thing that eventually they're going to move you back. They can't keep you in exile forever. When they do, I just want you to know I'm planning to go with you."

Fraser bit his lower lip, his eyes suddenly red. "You have no idea what that means to me."

"I think I do. You think I don't get that you think that I'm going to get tired of you once I get on my feet again. But you forget you're not the only one in this partnership for the last year. I know you, Fraser. You really think I'm going to use you and move on once I'm well again? If I didn't love you so damn much, I'd be pissed, but, see, I know how you think. What you need is someone like me who doesn't give up. Once you've got me, I don't let go easy. You think you've seen me stubborn? You ain't seen nothing yet. Where you go, I go. A permanent duet. Got that?"

Fraser hesitated, but only for a brief moment. He smiled and nodded, his voice slightly choked. "Yes, Ray, I do. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saying what I needed to hear."

"You're welcome." Ray closed his eyes, his breathing even, happy he finally said what he'd been keeping so close to his heart. "I'm tired. You wear me out with this stuff."

Fraser answered with a kiss on his forehead as he slipped back to the kitchen, his soft, happy hum like a serenade to their love.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"It itches." Ray jabbed the business end of the steak knife down the end of his cast, scratching the godawful, nonstop itching. He wanted to scream at the way his skin crawled just under the plaster.

Fraser reached over and took the knife from his hand. "I know it itches, but it's dangerous to do that. You could damage the skin or stab yourself."

"It's a fucking steak knife, Fraser. I'd have to poke it in there pretty damn hard to hurt anything. I just want to take the edge off a little."

Fraser shook his head and took the knife to the sink before sitting back down. "I've had broken bones before, Ray. I know how terribly distracting the irritation can be when they're healing. However, we can put talcum powder in the cast and that should help relieve the sensation."

"The knife's quicker."

"I'm sure it is, but we're not going to do that again."

Ray tilted his head, his lips pursed with annoyance. "What's up with the we shit? You're not the one wearing the cast last time I checked."

"Perhaps I should go fetch that powder."

"Perhaps you should take Dief for a walk instead. He hasn't been out and I'm thinking he's crossing his paws about now."

"It's only natural to be irritable during convalescence, Ray."

Ray got up from the table and headed for the bedroom. "Just take the damn wolf for a walk before I get pissed."

Fraser followed right behind him, his voice tense. "It would seem it's too late for that. Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not angry."

"Ray, you're overreacting about the knife."

"It's not the knife. It's not about the fucking knife."

Ray paced back and forth at the end of their bed, Fraser watching him intently from the doorway. "Then what is it about?"

"It's about what the knife stands for."

"I don't understand."

"Give the man a cigar. Of course you don't. How could you, Mr. I always know what's best? I'm a grown man, Fraser. You don't get to tell me what to do all the time." Ray stopped and took a deep breath, working like hell to push down the waves of anger swelling all around. "Look, it's like I know you mean well. I get that, but you've got to trust me to know what I know, too."

"Know about what?"

"About me, about what I need sometimes. If I want to use a fucking butcher knife to scratch my arm, then by God, that's my own damn choice."

"Ray, using a butcher knife would just be foolish."

"Fuck you, Fraser. You're not listening."

Fraser paused, his face pale, his eyes serious. "I am listening, Ray. I'm just not sure I understand what you're saying. Do you really think I'm arrogant?"

"I never said you were arrogant. You're not stuck up. I didn't say anything like that."

"No, I meant arrogant in that I think I know everything, because that's not true. I don't think that."

"You might not think it, but you act like it, and fuck, why not? You do know a lot of stuff, a lot more than I'll ever know, a lot more than most people will ever think about knowing. That still doesn't give you the right to tell me what I can and can't do. Don't do that, okay? It makes me really crazy when you do that."

"I can see that."

Ray stopped pacing suddenly and then sat on the edge of the bed, his head down. "Just take Dief out for a while. I'll be fine when you get back."

"I don't want to leave you when you're so agitated."

"I need a little space here, Fraser. I'm not used to a 24/7 watchdog, especially one that never misses a fucking thing."

"Well, obviously I missed something. I never saw this coming."

"This what?"

"This reaction." Fraser stepped closer and then sat down beside him, his hand on his back. "I never meant to upset you. I'm sorry."

"What for? You didn't really do anything you haven't done a million times. It's me, Fraser. I can't seem to figure out what's wrong with me. I'm just fucked up." His words choked. "I'm sorry. Just leave me alone for a little while. I'll be okay."

"I'll take Diefenbaker to the park. I'll take your cell phone in case you need to call."

"Sure. That's good." As Fraser kissed him on the temple, Ray closed his eyes, his body shaking. "I'm sorry, Fraser. I just keep losing it for no reason. It's not you."

"I love you, Ray." Fraser stood and headed to the doorway, signaling for a worried Diefenbaker to follow. He called back from the living room. "I'll be back shortly."

Ray didn't answer, just waited for the door to close, listened for the fading footsteps on the stairs to go away. Still sitting on the bed, he took a deep breath. "Fuck." He had absolutely no idea why he'd gone nuts like that, none at all, not really.

Standing, he went back to the kitchen and got the knife, held it up and studied the edge, the smooth sharpness of it just beyond the handle. His gut twisted as he remembered a similar blade, one held to his throat, one that bit into his skin like a thin burn and then long ribbons of pain all over. He dropped the knife in the sink and sagged down in the chair by the table. Head down, he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting off the visions of other cuts, gashes into his leg and back, his skin being sliced away as a larger man held him down. Clooney's bloody mouth suckled the wounds, whispered in his ear about the flavor, about the taste of him, about fucking the bitch as long as he wanted. Ray's struggle failed completely as he fell back, his heart pounding, Clooney touching him all over, his legs forced apart.

Gasping for air, Ray jerked up and opened his eyes, the light of his apartment grounding him in the present. "Jesus." Still breathing hard, he forced himself up from the table, and rushed to the bathroom. He stripped off all his clothes, checking for blood. Part of him knew he was crazy, irrational, no way there was blood now, not now. The other half of his brain made him see for himself, know for sure that it wasn't then, wasn't the time before, the time when he couldn't stop what happened.

Satisfied, but exhausted, Ray slid down the wall, his knees up. He shuddered, his arms wrapped around himself.

"Dear God, Ray, what happened?"

Eyes still closed, Ray bit back the lingering fear. "I panicked a little."

"Panicked? About what?"

"I don't know."

A blanket draped around him as Fraser moved to sit beside him on the cramped floor of the bathroom. "Ray, please, tell me what happened."

"I'm not sure." Fraser hugged him closer, Ray relaxing, drinking in the heat of his lover's body.

"Just tell me what you remember."

The words came out haltingly, resistant. "It was like I was dreaming, but I wasn't asleep. It seemed real."

"What seemed real?"

"The cuts. I was looking at the knife and then I remembered getting cut."

Fraser embraced him even harder, a brief kiss to his cheek. "Why are you in here naked?"

"Blood. I had to check for blood."

"Ray, there's no blood. You're safe."

"I know. I had to see for sure though. It was real."

"It was real before, but not now."

Ray sagged against Fraser, exhausted again. "You weren't gone very long."

"I was gone for over thirty minutes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Didn't feel like it. It happened so fast. Everything just tilted and I was back where I was before."

Strong arms held him and then urged him up. "Let's get you to bed. You're freezing."

Ray didn't protest, just let himself be guided to the bed, safe and warm under the covers. Fraser sat on the edge, watching him with concern. "I'm sorry I upset you before."

"It wasn't you. It was the knife."

Nodding, Fraser cupped his face. "I think you've had what's known as a flashback."

"Fuck. That can't be good."

"No, no, it's not, but it isn't totally unexpected."

"It was for me."

"I can imagine." Fraser kissed him sweetly and then sat back up. "Do you have any idea what triggered it?"

"The knife. I was holding it and then I remembered being cut."

"Did you recall anything else about the attack?"

"I remembered he liked sucking the blood, but other than that, no." Ray bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, his voice strained as he held back the smallest of lies, the biggest of lies. "This is scary shit, Fraser. I mean, this came out of nowhere."

"No, it didn't, Ray. You've survived a serious trauma, most of which you've blocked out. Flashbacks aren't that uncommon for situations like yours."

"They're not common for me."

"Of course not. I didn't mean that."

"I know."

Ray took Fraser's hand and held it to his chest, trying desperately not to sound pathetic. "Come to bed, Fraser. I'm tired and I don't think I can sleep alone."

"Let me lock up and I'll be right back."

As Fraser stood to leave, Ray released him. He closed his eyes again, hoping like hell he didn't have to deal with the whole blood shit again, knowing deep down that it most likely would get worse before it got better. He trembled at his own thoughts, his own predictions, and prayed for Fraser to hurry.

Ray sat at the table, his shoulders hunched over as he held the coffee mug with both hands. It didn't stop the shaking, but he managed to drink a little bit before he finally set it back down. Fraser busied himself with oatmeal. "Ray, I think we need to talk about what happened."

"I don't."

"I understand that, but..."

"But you still want to talk about it. Fine, talk. Feel better."

Fraser ignored the hostility and served up the oatmeal before returning the pan to the stove. He sat down, but didn't touch his spoon. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together in front of his face. "When I saw you last night, Ray, it scared me."

Of all the things he could've said, that was the one thing Ray didn't expect. "Fuck, Fraser. I'm sorry."

"You didn't do it on purpose, Ray. You had an episode, something that you had no control over. It's nothing to be sorry about. Still, it concerns me."

"Me, too."

"Have you had anything like this happen before?"

"What? You mean like going nuts and thinking I'm covered with blood when I'm not?"

"That or something like it."

Ray sat back, his arms crossed, his sweatshirt not nearly warm enough to make up for the bone deep cold he couldn't seem to shake. "Nothing quite as bad as that, no."

Fraser moved his arms off the table and studied him closer. "Nothing quite as bad implies that you've had similar situations."

"Sometimes I lose time, just sort of get lost in my head a while. Sometimes I remember shit out of nowhere, smells, sounds, feelings." Ray closed his eyes, fighting off the memories. "You've seen what can happen a couple of times. I just lose it. At least this time I didn't upchuck all over the place."

"I should've recognized what was happening when you got sick before. I didn't make the connection."

Ray shrugged, not meeting Fraser's concerned gaze. "I didn't make the connection, either, so don't feel bad. I've always had a tricky stomach."

"I know, which is why I didn't see that there might be a bigger problem than just a reaction to stress or exhaustion. However, at least now that we've seen what can happen, we can be more prepared if it should occur again."

Ray turned his head and frowned. "You're not going to insist I go see some shrink right this minute?"

"Is that what you expected me to say?"

"Yeah. I figured you'd be pushing me hard to get my ass in right away."

Fraser sighed and shook his head. "Ray, I'd be pleased if you decided to see someone, but that's up to you. As you've pointed out repeatedly, you don't feel ready. I see no reason to belabor the point. Might as well try to count every snowflake in Canada."

"Not going to happen, huh?"

"Something like that." Fraser motioned to the bowl in front of Ray. "Eat before it gets cold. I've prepared a list and we can head out to the stores early."

"You think it's safe to take me out in public?"

"I take Diefenbaker out in public."

"Good point, but he's got better manners."

"I'd say you were pretty much even."

The wolf sniffed, not the least bit amused at the joke as Ray laughed and drank some more coffee. He still didn't touch his oatmeal, though, and Fraser handed him some toast and pineapple preserves. "Try to eat something."

"You know me and breakfast don't see eye to eye. It's a waste to even fix anything this time of day."

"I know you've told me, but..."

"But you keep trying. I know."

"Perhaps we could stop at Kuntz Bakery for some Danish before we go shopping."

"Yeah, maybe. It just takes me a couple of hours to put anything in my stomach other than caffeine." Ray dipped his spoon into the mushy oatmeal and let some of it drop back into the bowl. "It's nothing against your cooking, honest. I felt the same way when Mom fixed stuff. Never could get me to eat it."

Defeated, Fraser nodded and proceeded to eat his own breakfast while Ray drank more coffee, filling his cup twice more before he drank the last bit. Sitting together quietly, just the two of them, calmed Ray more than he ever expected. When Fraser got up and cleared the table, Ray stood and helped. He returned the milk and preserves to the refrigerator and then positioned himself beside Fraser as he ran the water to do the dishes. "You want me to dry those?"

"No, that's fine. Why don't you go make the bed and take your medicine?"

"You make the bed better than I do."

Fraser met his eyes. "Yes, I do, but practice might change that."

"Okay, okay, I'll make the bed. Just don't expect to bounce any quarters."

"Would that be an American or Canadian coin?"

Ray leaned in and kissed the smirk off his partner's face, his tongue darting in, the taste of tea and oats mixing with his coffee. He pulled back and leaned his forehead against Fraser's. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"And I you, Ray. Now, go make the bed and get ready. There's something called an early bird special at Bloomingdale's. We get an extra 15 percent off any clearance items if we get there and make our purchases before eleven."

Ray pulled away and headed to the bedroom, muttering as he went. "Right, right, early bird special. Gotcha."

"And, Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"If you start to get tired or you feel like you need to leave, just tell me."

"Sure, Fraser. The same with you. If we get there and the crowd bugs you, we can just wait or go some place else."

"That seems fair."

"Good."

Ray walked into the bedroom and stared at the bed, wishing like hell he could just crawl back under the covers. The idea of shopping to replace all the destroyed clothes almost made him dizzy. Still, he had Fraser and if anyone could organize a quick, in and out, get it done efficiently with the least amount of hassle expedition, it was his Mountie. Hurriedly, he straightened the pillows and top sheet before pulling up and smoothing out the blanket and comforter. Not for the first time, Ray realized that having only one good hand sucked when it came to doing housework.

Ray stepped to the bathroom and picked up the pill bottles. He'd taken the Phenergan earlier when he first got up, so he took his antibiotic. Fingering the Percocet bottle, he thought about skipping another dose, but figured with the nagging headache already creeping up the back of his head, he'd better be safe. He popped one in his mouth, hoping it kicked in quick, praying it worked its magic so he could just skip any jagged edges that might snag his mind and make him act all crazy again. No way did he want to think about getting in a busy store and making some kind of scene, like he couldn't control himself anymore. He closed his eyes and pushed away the thought, forced down the rising fear that the best thing he could do would be to lock himself away.

Fraser stood at the doorway, watching him intently when he opened his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just a little headache."

"Did you take anything?"

"Just the usual."

Fraser nodded and then stepped closer as he wrapped his arms around Ray's waist. "You'll be fine, Ray. If you feel like there's going to be a problem, I'll get you out quickly. You don't have to worry."

Ray shook his head and snorted lightly. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Read my mind."

"Actually, you're a very difficult person to read sometimes, but not about this. Anyone would be frightened after what's happened."

"It's just shopping."

"It's going out into a crowd when you're not sure how you're going to react even in private."

Ray relaxed into Fraser's embrace and rested his head on his shoulders. Fraser rubbed his back lightly before a quick squeeze. "We should go."

"Yeah, yeah. We should." Ray didn't move from the hug. "Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"Just give me a minute, okay?"

"You've got as long as you need, Ray."

Ray held up the tag on a plain, grey sweater, his eyes squinty. "What's that say, Fraser? I don't have my glasses and there's no way that can say what I think it says."

Fraser read the tag, his right eyebrow lifted in surprise. "It says $112.49, marked down from $224.99."

Snorting, Ray put the sweater back. "That's what I thought it said."

"It does seem a tad expensive."

"Try too fucking expensive. It's not even all wool."

"And I must say the workmanship isn't the best quality, either."

Ray shook his head and sighed. "I think we're going to have to admit defeat here, Fraser. I can't afford this stuff even when it's marked down."

"We got a good deal on the undergarments and socks."

"Yeah, yeah, we did, especially the thermal underwear, and I liked that one flannel shirt that was on sale, but the rest is way out of my league. Hell, they want sixty bucks for a pair of jeans and they're not even broke in."

"Broke in? Do you mean broken in?"

"Broke, broken, whatever. I just mean pre-washed and soft so they fit right."

"Ah."

Ray ignored the ah and went over to another clearance rack, still disgusted at the outrageous prices. He didn't see a single shirt that he'd pay his own money for. "I think we picked the wrong place to shop."

"Perhaps we did. I think if you're not put off by wearing broken clothes, I might have a suggestion."

Ray looked up. "What?"

"There's a consignment shop I sometimes frequent that might be more to your liking. There are also some thrift shops we could try."

"You mean buy second hand stuff?"

"It's seems a good option. I've found many a bargain."

"Bargain, huh? Sounds good. How fast can we get there?"

Fraser checked the clock over the nearby counter. "It's after one o'clock now. I suggest we have lunch first and then drive over."

"Jesus, Fraser. We've been shopping for over three hours. No wonder my feet hurt."

"Then lunch it is. Should we go home or eat out?"

"Let's save time. There's a Chinese place on the corner. Let's go there and then check out these other stores."

At the restaurant, Fraser ordered for both of them. They sat quietly while they waited, Fraser sipping tea, Ray drinking his coffee. After a few minutes, Ray leaned in. "So, how come you've been holding out about these consignment places?"

"I wasn't exactly holding out. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about shopping second-hand shops as you call them."

Ray nodded, accepting the explanation with no problem. "You know, Stella wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that."

"Why's that?"

"Take a guess." Before Fraser could hazard a response, Ray held up a hand. "This is one of those times when I didn't really mean for you to answer."

"I see."

"Yeah, you probably do. Stella has this thing about fitting in with the upper class. No reason why she wouldn't. I mean, she came from money, and I'm talking Gold Coast money. Her dad's a big shot who runs some kind of finance company and her mom's into all these social clubs and shit. You should've seen the look on their faces when Stella walked in with me. You'd thought she'd stepped in a big pile of Dief shit."

Fraser didn't interrupt, but his face made his disapproval obvious. "Yeah, I know, it was rebellion on her part. Sometimes when I get really down on myself, I think that was the only reason she hooked up with me in the first place. I was a way to snub her folks. Funny thing was, after a while she was as bad as they were, looking at me like why the hell couldn't I be more like she wanted, more like the guys she was used to? She wanted to dress me a certain way, to eat fancy dishes, to give up boxing, do what she wanted every damn time." Ray paused, his eyes not really focused on the present. "And for a while, that was okay. I'd have cut off my right arm to please her. But it was never enough, Fraser, never enough. I could never do refinement, not the way she needed. So after a while it just fell apart when I wasn't looking, when I wasn't on guard to the fact that she got tired of putting up with this guy who would never be the guy she really wanted."

Before Fraser spoke, the food arrived. As soon as the waiter left, Fraser served the rice and then the sesame chicken. Ray used a fork and Fraser used his chop sticks as he spoke quietly. "You know, Ray, as hard as all that was to live through, you've at least managed to remain friends, or at least remain relatively friendly. She does care for you. There's no question about that."

Ray nodded thoughtfully, chewing the chicken, but then quickly gulping down lots of water. "Damn, that's hot."

"It is rather spicy."

Ray took another bite. "It's not bad though."

"It's very good, actually."

"Yeah, it is." Ray bit his lower lip, a little self-conscious. "I didn't mean to start in on Stella again. I'm not sure why I said all that."

"It must bother you. And as you mentioned, Stella probably wouldn't approve of consignment or thrift stores."

"Yeah, she is kind of snobbish." Fraser tilted his head, a small grin trying to show up. "Come on, Fraser, admit it. You think she can be snobby, too."

"Ray, you already know what I think about Stella."

"Oh, yeah, you made that pretty clear." Ray sat back, more relaxed than he could remember being in a long time. "And that's okay. So, you think any of these places will have that cold weather stuff you were talking about?"

"I doubt it, but we can check."

"Because I feel pretty good, but I'm not sure I can handle going for the coat and gloves and shit all in one go round."

"That's fine, Ray. We'll buy what we can today and go tomorrow after your appointment with Dr. Barnes."

Ray stilled. "I forgot about that."

"You're doing much better. It should only be blood work and a quick exam."

"Should be, but you never know what that guy's going to come up with. Seems to get his jollies making me squirm and giving me lectures about shit."

Fraser frowned but remained quiet while he finished lunch. Ray ate about half his meal and gave up. "You know what would be good?"

"What?"

"If I could get my car out of storage and have it towed over to Larry's Garage."

"Larry's Garage?"

"Yeah, he's a friend from the old neighborhood. He's got his own place now. Let's me use it sometimes."

Fraser put his chop sticks down and sat back. "I thought you wanted to fix your car yourself. You seemed quite adamant about doing it right."

Shrugging, Ray didn't look up, just moved the food around on his plate. "Well, yeah, I'd like to do it myself, but I don't see that happening anytime soon and we can't just keep bumming off Frannie. I figure I can let Larry replace the tires and put a few coats of paint on. Then in the spring, I'll be able to do the rest myself. I mean, it would still be drivable if he fixed it. It just won't look as good until I put on the final coats and do some detailing. Larry's almost as good as me, though, so I might even let him go for it."

"Then that sounds like a good plan. Would you like me to contact a reputable towing service?"

Suddenly very tired, Ray shook his head. "No, I'll call Larry myself. He's got his own truck. It won't be a problem."

"Are you all right? You look pale."

"I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"About?"

"About my dad."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Ray sighed deeply. "It's just that we worked so damn hard on that car and when he came back from Arizona that was his way of making it right between us again. He didn't have to keep it up, didn't have to give it to me, but he did because it was his way of saying he still loved me. Now, here we're not talking again and the car is fucked. Just seems symbolic or something."

"You mean you think the condition of the car represents the condition of the relationship with your father?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Do you think repairing the car might somehow mend the differences between you and your father?"

"No, I don't think that." Even as he said it, he hated the words, didn't want to admit the pain they carried. "My dad made his choice. He doesn't want to call me his son anymore."

"That's his loss, Ray."

"I know." Ray looked up, his eyes blurry. "But it's mine, too." Standing up, he took a deep breath to clear his head, and picked up the bill. "Enough chitchat about stuff that don't matter. Pitter, patter, we've got clothes to buy and budgets to turn to shit. You up to watching me write some more checks?"

"Seems I've got the easier task."

Ray chuckled and shook his head. "Depends on how much stuff you get to carry. Speaking of checks, let me pay this and then we'll take all those bags to the car."

"Certainly."

Stepping to the counter, Ray pulled out his wallet and took care of the check, his mind busy on counting bills and change and pushing away the hurt of thinking about his father's rejection.

"Okay, okay, this is more like it. Look at this, a Bull's T-shirt for $5. I think we've found the right place.

"But you already have one of those and it wasn't damaged."

Ray dropped the shirt over Fraser's arm and shook his head. "You can never have enough T-shirts, Fraser, not with the right logos. Besides, they're collector's items."

"I hardly think so, Ray. This one is far from mint condition."

"What do you expect for five bucks?" Ray continued pushing through the rack of shirts, pulling out four sweatshirts along with two flannel ones. "You should probably take those up to the counter and have her hold them while we go through the other stuff."

Fraser nodded. "Perhaps you should try these on first."

"No need. I know what size I wear."

"You've lost weight over the last few weeks."

Frowning, Ray moved to the rack with the jeans. "Not enough to make that much difference."

"There are dressing rooms in the back."

"I just said I'm not trying stuff on, Fraser, so drop it."

Fraser's lips thinned. "Consider it dropped."

Ray stopped and turned, grabbing Fraser's arm before he walked away. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap, but I just don't have the energy to strip off and try on clothes. I just don't."

"Understood. It's not a problem."

"You sure?"

"Ray, it's your money, your clothes. You do what you're comfortable doing."

"Thanks."

Smiling again, Fraser headed off to take the selected items to the register. Meanwhile, Ray continued to sort through pants and jeans, checking sizes and conditions of the clothes. As soon as Fraser returned, Ray handed him three pairs of well worn jeans and a pair of grey slacks that looked brand new. "I like this place, Fraser. I think someone must have cleaned out the right closets just for me."

"It would appear that you're having good luck finding broken jeans."

"Just the way I like'em." Ray threw another pair over Fraser's arm and then got a gleam in his eye as he headed for the jackets. "Oh, my God, Fraser, look at this."

"What?"

Ray snatched a black leather jacket from the rack. "I can't believe this. It's only $25." He had Fraser hold his tan coat. Then, he slipped on the leather one, tugging to get it over his cast, the sleeves a little longer than they should be, but not so long he couldn't roll them up or have them altered. Hell, Fraser could do amazing things with a needle sometimes.

"Oh, my."

Ray lifted his head and met hungry blue eyes. "You like it?"

Fraser cleared his throat and licked his lower lip, his voice suddenly more husky. "You look very James Dean-like, Ray."

Chuckling, Ray stepped closer and whispered, "I'll show you James Dean when we get home."

Fraser blushed bright red and nearly choked when the owner walked up behind them. "Having fun, guys?"

Ray laughed and nodded. "This is a great place." He held out a hand. "I'm Ray Vecchio and this here is Constable Benton Fraser..."

"Of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who first came to Chicago on the trail of his father's killers."

"I see you've heard the story."

Shaking his hand, the woman grinned. "The name's Debbie, and I've heard a great deal about you, Ray." She glanced mischievously at Fraser and leaned in. "He did say you were handsome, but he didn't say you were so raw."

"Raw?"

"I mean that in the best way." She looked him up and down, her eyes bright with approval. "Oh, yeah, raw works. Like the jacket?"

"It's great."

"It just came in this morning. Looks good."

"You sure about the price?"

"Absolutely. The guy who brought it in is going through a preppy phase and wants to get a new image. He wanted to sell quick and cheap."

"Works for me."

"Ray has an affinity for leather."

Debbie touched the soft brown leather of Fraser's jacket and nodded. "I can see that."

Once again Fraser's complexion turned dark red and Ray couldn't stop smiling. "He wears it to drive the girls crazy."

Debbie eyed him a moment, her eyes a little more narrow, as if the words surprised her. Then she relaxed and nodded, "Let me know if there's anything I can do, Fraser. Just bring it to the front and I'll hold it for you. Ray, nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you, too."

As soon as she went back to the front counter, Ray turned to Fraser. "What was that about? She acted like I farted or something."

"I think she was startled by your statement in reference to my trying to make the girls crazy by wearing leather, which as you know, Ray, is hardly the truth."

"Well, I can't say you wear it to turn me on."

Fraser shrugged. "Debbie is very astute about such things, Ray. I can't say for sure, but I suspect she knows we're a couple."

Ray craned his neck and glanced at Debbie quickly and then back at Fraser. "How?"

"As she mentioned, I have on occasion, told her about you."

"And you think she's figured it out by the way you talk about me?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if there were the case."

Ray took off the jacket and put his own coat back on, wondering if he should be pissed or flattered. He decided on the latter with reservations. "You know if we're going to get through this without everyone in the world knowing about us, we've got to be a little more careful."

"I doubt Debbie is going to rush out and announce it, Ray."

"Well, no, probably not, but if she can work it out, what do you think a room full of cops will do?"

Fraser tugged on his ear nervously. "Your point is well taken, though I must confess I find it difficult to hide my feelings about you, especially now that I know that the affection is returned."

Ray touched the hand down by his side. "It's more than affection, Fraser."

Fraser squeezed Ray's hand in return. "Understood."

Ray closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he reluctantly released Fraser's hand. "So, I guess handholding in public is probably not a good idea, either, huh?"

"Unfortunately, I have to agree."

"Okay, okay, let's focus on getting done here. The jacket's great, but let's see if they've got anything heavier."

"I've already checked, Ray, and there's nothing even close to what we need here."

"Well, hell, I can't complain. We made a great haul. I'll have to come back when I want summer stuff."

"Indeed. They have quite a diverse selection as the seasons change."

"I guess we should check out then." As he walked a few steps, Ray stopped. "Oh, that's nice. Look at this." Ray held up a blue wool, cable knit sweater that not only looked handmade, but almost new.

"It matches your eyes, Ray. It's lovely."

"Yeah, I like it, and damn, it's only $15. Jesus, I can't believe these prices. Let's see if they've got some turtlenecks and we'll be done for the day." Fraser paused, his face suddenly serious. He remained silent as Ray quickly found three cotton turtlenecks to wear under his sweater, blue, grey, and black. Ray turned. "That should do it."

"I've rarely seen you wear turtlenecks, Ray."

Self-consciously, Ray fingered the scar at his throat. "Never really needed to."

"You don't need to now."

"It's a good deal on the shirts. Forget about it. Let's just go home."

"As you wish."

Ray gritted his teeth, knowing that tone too well, that tone that said Fraser needed to talk more even if Ray had no desire to hear it.

Ray dropped to the sofa, the floor and table littered with the shopping bags. "I don't know how women do this shit."

"Do what, Ray?"

"Shop. No wonder they talk about shopping till you fucking drop."

"Perhaps you should lie down and rest."

Closing his eyes, Ray let his head drop back. "Might sack out right here. I'm too tired to move. God, I'm out of shape."

A pillow and blanket appeared out of nowhere. "Stretch out. I'll take Dief for a short walk before I sort through the purchases and start supper."

Following orders, Ray allowed Fraser to help him take off his boots and then lie down on the sofa, relaxing, getting warm again. Eyes still shut, he listened to the rustle of bags and the quiet movements of his partner as he left with the wolf.

Rolling on his back, he opened his eyes to stare morosely at the ceiling. Suddenly tense, he sat up and rubbed his face. Being alone made him uneasy, almost anxious. He banged his forehead with his cast. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Ray took a deep breath and pushed away the creepy thoughts pushing in from all around, Clooney's face, the pain, the blood. Gulping down his own panic, he stood up and went to the kitchen. He ran the cold water and splashed his face, his stubble burning his fingers. The fear edged back a little as he focused on Fraser, made himself think about his lover's return, his strong arms, his warm voice. He needed all that, wanted it now, but forced himself to wait, to not run out in the street and make a big fool of himself hunting down Fraser. After a few moments, he managed to sit down at the table without shaking too badly. He held himself tightly and gritted his teeth as he waited, hoping like hell Dief wouldn't take fucking forever to do what he had to do. Damn wolf played too fucking much.

After a little while, he heard a whisper outside the door. "Now don't be unreasonable. You know you always enjoy staying with Francesca. And now that she has Ante..." A yip interrupted. "What? No, it's only two weeks, and, yes, I know it'll be Christmas, but that can't be helped." A short whine overlapped the sound of the key in the lock. "Yes, of course, I'll bring you back some pemmican."

As Fraser entered, he stopped and stared at Ray still seated at the table. "Ray? I thought you were going to rest. Are you all right?"

"Fine. You been talking to Dief in public the whole time you were gone?"

Slipping the key in his pocket, he closed the door and Dief headed to the table, nosing his face against Ray's leg. Ray petted the thick fur as Fraser removed his coat and hat and put them in the closet. "I was trying to explain to him why it's not feasible for him to go with us to Canada, but being a wolf, he does tend to be a bit stubborn."

Ray smiled and let the wolf lick his face a few times before he pushed him away. Reluctantly, the wolf stopped, but instead of moving to the living room, he settled at his feet under the table. Fraser frowned as he came to the kitchen and filled the pot to boil some water. "Are you sure you're not ill? You look pale."

Shrugging, Ray took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Took me a minute, but I'm okay. I just got a little panicky, that's all. At least I didn't end up buck naked and checking for blood this time."

Fraser sat beside him, his face concerned. "What happened?"

"Seems like every time I get a free minute, my mind gets a mind of its own. Spooky shit comes out of nowhere. But I didn't let it get to me this time. I didn't forget where I was, didn't lose my place and get all wacky." Ray lifted his eyes to Fraser's. "I just thought about you and it wasn't as scary."

"We overdid it this afternoon. I should've brought you home sooner."

"No, I'm okay, Fraser. Honest. Didn't you get the part when I said I didn't freak out?"

Fraser paused, licking his lower lip as he studied Ray's face as if searching for clues or deception. "I'm sorry. I just worry."

"I know." Ray sat back, sighing, his whole body complaining at once. "I'm really tired. Think I'll sleep for a little while."

"You should take your medication first."

"Anybody ever told you, you should've been a nurse?"

Fraser fetched the pills, his face solemn and his tone deadly serious. "Actually, I'd rather someone kick me in the head."

Ray chuckled. "I hear that."

Handing him the medicine, Fraser got him a glass of water before he sat down again. "Ray, I didn't mean to suggest that I mind taking care of you."

Ray took his pills and gulped down all the water before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I know that, Fraser."

"It's just that being a nurse or any other medical professional takes a kind of patience and resilience I doubt I could muster for a lifetime commitment."

"So, you'd rather chase scumbags and get shot at than empty bedpans and clean up puke? Gee, why doesn't that surprise me? Join the club. I'd rather get a bullet to the skull than deal with sick people all day. Hell, I don't even like dealing with me when I'm sick. I'd be fired before I even got started."

"Oh, I doubt that. I think you'd do very well as a nurse or any other job you chose to do."

Ray shook his head, suddenly even more exhausted and a little dizzy. "Thanks, but no thanks. Nursing ain't my thing, never will be. If I never see another hospital or doctor, it'll be too soon." He stood up slowly, bracing himself against the table, careful not to step on Dief. "Look, I'll get some shut eye and then we'll talk about whether we really want to leave Dief at the Vecchios over Christmas."

"Ray, even without quarantine requirements, he'd have to be in a crate from 12 to 48 hours, depending on flight delays for bad weather. While pressurized, the baggage compartment is dark and not very comfortable."

"I don't suppose you could pull some Mountie strings so he could ride with us or something?"

"No, Ray, I'm sorry."

Ray glanced down at Dief who watched them both with big, sad wolfie eyes. "Sorry, buddy, but he's right. You're better off whooping it up with Ante than coming with us this time. Maybe in the spring."

"Don't make promises, Ray. We don't know how long we'll get to stay then."

"I know, I know. I just hate thinking about leaving him behind."

"He'll be fine. He'll complain like always, but he'll be petted and treated better than when he's with us. You know how Francesca dotes on him."

"And how he's a dolt around Frannie."

"That, too."

Dief barked in protest.

"Sorry, boy, but you know it's true. If you were human, you'd go after her like nobody's business." Ray laughed to himself.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about how it's weird him being a straight wolf and we're both, well, you know." Fraser's lip quivered as he fought down a smile. "What? Please don't tell me the wolf swings both ways, too."

"Then I guess I shouldn't mention that one dog up in Whitehorse."

"Oh, God, Dief, Dief, I don't want to think about it."

Fraser piped in. "Well, he was a fine husky male, the leader of a champion sled team."

"Nobody said the wolf didn't have taste."

"I should hope not."

Ray scratched his head, the humor fading. "Sorry, but I've got to sack out. I feel like someone's punching bag all of a sudden."

"Then go lie down. I'll wake you for supper in a few hours."

"You think it'll take a couple of hours to cook?"

"No, I need to do laundry, too."

Even more tired thinking about Fraser working so hard, Ray shook his head as he walked toward the bedroom. "You know where to find me."

Fraser smiled warmly. "Indeed, I do."

Ray woke up slowly and rolled over, his body still achy and hung over from so much activity earlier in the day. He groaned as he sat up and slipped his legs off the side of the bed, his thigh complaining. He rubbed the muscle around it to lessen the pain and then stood up. Suddenly dizzy, he sat back down again quickly, holding his head. He waited a few moments for the faintness to pass before trying again. As he walked out of the bedroom, he saw Fraser standing there ironing his new clothes, all now pressed and either folded or hanging up. "There you go, Fraser, ironing again. What's with that?"

Fraser glanced up and finished the collar on his grey flannel shirt. "It's a pleasure to use such a fine appliance." He zapped the shirt with a quick hiss of steam. "I grew up having to heat the iron on the stove, and at the Consulate they only have the most rudimentary of irons available for personal use. This is so much easier."

"You're kidding, right? You like ironing?"

"I find it very restful."

"Restful?"

"Yes. It gives me time to think."

"Think? Think about what?"

"Many things." As Fraser put the shirt on a hanger, he studied Ray. "I've made some bark tea."

"I'd rather have coffee."

"I know, but it's after eight and you don't really need the caffeine."

Ray ran a hand over his head and then sat down at the table. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?"

"You needed it. I'll have dinner served in just a few moments. Would you like the tea or something else?"

"Just give me some water."

"What about some milk?"

Ray closed his eyes, his temper rising. "Why bother to ask me if you're going to keep offering other stuff?"

"I'm sorry."

The hurt tone kicked him in the gut. "No, Fraser, I'm sorry. Here you are out here slaving away to make things better for me and I'm being an ass."

"You're just a little irritable. That's to be expected."

"You don't have to be so fucking understanding all the time. You could just smack me or something when I get a smart mouth. How the hell can you put up with my shit without even getting just a little pissed off?"

Fraser stood there, his voice quiet. "Because I love you."

"That doesn't mean you have to take shit, Fraser. I love you, too, but I tell you when you do stuff that makes me crazy. I just need to do it without being such an asshole about it."

Fraser paused and then nodded as he stepped to the oven. "Yes, that would be appreciated, Ray."

"So, you think I'm a prick, huh?"

Using oven mitts, Fraser took out the casserole and put it on the trivet at the table. He talked softly as he worked to serve the meal. "You know, Ray, your language is your own choice, but why do you continue to use profanity when you know it bothers me?"

Ray pulled back, surprised. "Well, fuck, Fraser." He stopped and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I guess it's just habit. I was good before, well, before you know, and I guess I just stopped worrying about it. I'll try to do better. I know you don't like it when I cuss."

Fraser got the salad from the refrigerator and sat down at his place at the table. "I'd appreciate that, Ray. I know it's difficult for you. It's part of your culture, but sometimes it can be rather offensive."

Reluctantly, Ray agreed that his bad mouth needed reining in. "I'll try, Fraser. That's all I can promise." As soon as Fraser finished spooning out the lasagna, he leaned over a little. "Can I still talk dirty sometimes though?"

Fraser dropped the spoon and flushed red, but smiled as he teased back. "You're incorrigible, Ray."

"If that means I'm a bad influence, well, yeah, no argument there. So, can I still talk dirty?"

"During intimate occasions, yes, I'd have no argument with that."

Ray picked up his water glass in a toast. "Okay, here's to me turning over a new leaf, or tongue, as the case might be."

Fraser tapped his own water glass with Ray's. "Thank you."

"Good, now what kind of dressing do we have?"

"I made some fresh ranch, or there's some bottled Thousand Island."

"Ranch it is." Fraser handed him the dressing and then proceeded to eat his salad along with his meal. Ray picked at his food a while and managed a few bites before he leaned forward and asked, "So, what else is bugging you besides the language and me flying off the handle and being a bastard sometimes?"

Fraser glanced up, but then put his fork down and wiped his mouth. "I can't really say there's anything in particular that's bugging me, Ray, at least nothing intentional."

"Nothing intentional? What's that mean? I'm doing something unintentional that bothers you?"

"You're not eating."

"I'm eating." Ray stabbed at the pasta and put a big bite in his mouth. He chewed and then swallowed, making a big show of his efforts. "See?"

"Ray, you know what I mean. I know you've never had a big appetite, but now it's essential for your health that you get proper nourishment. I don't think it's anything you do on purpose, but if you want me to be honest, that's what's worrying me."

"You think I'm too skinny? Well, hell, Fraser, I've always been skinny. I told you that. Ever since I was a kid I've had to eat twice as much as anybody else just to keep up. It's not something I can do anything about."

"I understand that, Ray, but you're not an ignorant man. You've heard the doctors say you need to eat more to get well."

Ray tensed, suddenly more defensive. "I'm doing the best I can."

Fraser voice stayed very soft, very calm. "I'm not saying you're not, Ray. I'm just concerned. I've tried very hard to go out of my way to make dishes that will help with the weight gain, but I can only do so much. I can't force feed you and make you drink the supplements. That's all up to you."

"You think I'm just being stubborn?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

"I don't mean to be. I'm just not hungry."

"I understand that, Ray, I do. I remember times in my own life when depression robbed me of my appetite as well, but as an officer in the service, I knew I had to maintain my health."

"You've got a lot of discipline, Fraser."

"As do you."

Ray snorted and shook his head. "Come on, I know you love me, but you're not blind. Discipline isn't something that comes easy for me."

"You're wrong, Ray. You can't be the fine officer you are and not have the self-discipline I've seen first hand. You couldn't box or work out the way you do, if you didn't care about your body and your health."

"I do those things because I have to."

Fraser sat back, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"I box, dance, work out, all that stuff because it takes me out of my head. It's got nothing to do with discipline. It's about survival."

"And I think that's my point. You need to eat to survive."

Ray closed his eyes briefly, reluctantly accepting the truth and power of his partner's words. "You're right."

"Does that mean you'll at least try to make more of an effort to eat better?"

"Sure. I guess. I'll give it a try."

"That certainly relieves some of my worry, Ray."

Without answering, Ray turned his attention back to the meal. He ate slowly, but managed to eat most of the pasta and salad. He couldn't, however, eat any cheesecake. "Enough. Another bite and I'll throw up."

Fraser stood to clear the table, but stopped. He walked around the table to stand beside Ray and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

"I really don't want to worry you."

"I know."

"All I can do is try."

"And I appreciate it." After another quick kiss, Fraser ran the water for the dishes.

Ray got up and helped, wrapping the leftovers and putting them away. After a few moments, he whispered, "Is that really all you want, Fraser, for me to eat and not cuss?"

Fraser stopped working and turned around to face him. "A better question might be what do you want from me?"

"I've got everything I need from you. You love me and take care of me. What more could I want?"

"More trust."

"Trust? Are you saying you don't trust me?"

"I have trouble trusting anyone, Ray. It's not you."

"That's bull and you know it. I trust you, but you're saying you don't trust me? How does that work? How can you love me and not trust me?"

Fraser kept his voice steady, not rising to meet Ray's anger. "I love you more than life, Ray. Please, don't ever question that."

"Then why don't you trust me?"

"I do, mostly."

"There you go again, with the mostly stuff, never completely."

"I think you know the answer, Ray."

"Fuck." Ray shook his head defiantly, and didn't apologize for the profanity. Instead, he swallowed hard and tried to put himself in Fraser's position, tried to get into his head like he'd done before. "So, you can't trust me because you got messed over by Victoria and that Bullweather guy?"

"I want to trust you completely, Ray. That's one of the reasons I'm seeing Dr. Reese."

"You can talk to him about it, but not me?"

"I find your easy temper difficult to deal with at times. I need to be able to say what I'm feeling without fear that you'll take it personally or get angry."

"Take it personally? Why the hell should I do that, just because the man I love doesn't fucking trust me? Damn it, Fraser, this sucks."

"I know, Ray. I'm sorry."

"And don't fucking apologize. Jesus. I hate it when you do that. You feel like you feel. And in my head, I know it's not about me, I know that. I just hate knowing that you don't trust me even when I know why."

"Please, don't be angry, Ray. I do love you and trust you more than anyone else, even more than myself."

Stepping closer, Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser and pulled him close. "Sorry about the language, but you gave me a right hook out of nowhere. I wasn't thinking." He controlled his voice as he hugged Fraser and rested his head on his shoulder. "You got issues, I got issues, we both need shrinks."

Fraser chuckled as he returned the embrace. "And yet overall, we're both fairly well-adjusted considering."

"Considering we're both fucked."

"Indeed."

Lying together in bed, Ray relaxed against Fraser, his fingers slowly petting and stroking the arm that held him. "So, when do you see Reese again?"

The arm tensed slightly. "Not until we come back from Canada."

"Why so long?"

"It was difficult to work in another appointment before we left."

Ray nuzzled up against him, closing his eyes. "You going to be okay until then?"

"I'll be fine, Ray. I've been dealing with a lot of these problems for a long time. A few more weeks won't make much difference. In addition, I'm doing what Dr. Reese suggested about the journal and other exercises."

"What other exercises?"

"He suggested I write down a list of goals and expectations both about the therapy and about my relationship with you."

"He did, huh? Anything else?" Fraser hesitated and cleared his throat. Ray lifted his head and looked at his suddenly nervous partner. "What?"

"Well, it's rather personal, and I have to admit that of the things he told me to try, I'm having the most difficulty in managing it."

Ray stroked his cheek gently, his voice more soft. "What?"

"He wanted me to look in the mirror each day and say at least five things I like about myself that have nothing to do with my profession. I have to confess, I'm having trouble coming up with even one or two."

Shaking his head, Ray lay back against Fraser. "He expects you to talk to yourself about yourself? That's weird."

"I believe it's about making self affirmations as a form of positive reinforcement. It's part of the general belief that in behavior modification techniques, one must rewrite one's personal script to change one's self perception. It's not enough to think about it, but one must make a conscious and vocal effort to change what one's been trained to think before."

"So, basically, you're supposed to talk yourself out of feeling down on yourself."

"Basically, yes."

"And you're having trouble because?"

"I'm not sure."

"Come on, Fraser. Tell me. You're bound to know why it makes you sweat."

"I never said it made me sweat. It just makes me very uncomfortable."

"You've got no problem talking to a deaf wolf and a dead guy. Why is this different?"

"Perhaps you should try it yourself and see how easy it is."

The tone came out snippy and Ray pulled away. Sitting up, he leaned back against his pillows. "Just tell me to butt out, Fraser. You don't have to get pissed."

"I'm not."

"Sounds like it. Sounds like this thing hits a nerve. What? You having trouble coming up with five things you like about yourself?"

"Can you come up with five things you like about yourself?"

"Good point, but we're not talking about me."

"Of course not, that would be too much to expect, Mr. Independence. You can tell me I'm being silly, but you won't even attempt to open yourself up to a therapist. I am trying, Ray, but it's difficult."

Eyes narrowed. "First of all, I never said you were being silly. Those words did not come out of my mouth, so just forget about it. As for being Mr. Independence, that's a crock and you know it. I need you, need you more than I want to need you sometimes. Most of all, I think it's great that you're trying to get better, but if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. If you think it's none of my business, just say so, and I'll shut up about it. I just thought I might be able to help. I mean, I can think of plenty of good stuff about you that's got nothing to do with you being a Mountie."

Fraser's posture relaxed and he eased in closer to Ray, putting his head on his chest, his breath warm against Ray's skin. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that I thought my therapy was none of your concern. I'll try to answer any question you have. It's just that most things come easily to me, but I've found this kind of self-examination to be somewhat of a trial, far more than I expected. I didn't mean to take that anxiety out on you."

Ray held him and fingered his hair as Fraser pulled the covers up over them. "It's okay. It's scary stuff. I get that." He paused. "So, what did you come up with for your list so far?"

"I love Ray."

"That's on your list?"

"It's the best thing about me."

"You're a nut, you know that?"

"I don't think it's crazy to love you, Ray."

"No, no, you wouldn't, and you're damn good at it."

"Thank you kindly."

"So, what else?"

"I stalled after that."

"What about being kind?"

"I'm not always as kind as I should be."

Ray shook his head, wanting to meet up with all the thoughtless shits who made Fraser so incredibly down on himself. "You're the kindest person I've ever met, Fraser. You're even nice to the scumbags."

"That's merely being polite."

"Well, add it to the list, because you're polite as hell."

"Why do you say that like it's a bad thing, Ray?"

"I'm not, it's just not my thing. I mean, I've been trying harder, but it's not as easy as it looks."

Fraser chuckled. "Yes, it does sometimes take practice."

"Add it to the list then. Plus, you're a great lover."

Turning dark red, Fraser protested, "I can't say that."

"Why not? It's true. You give the best blowjobs in the world."

"Well, Ray, that's not exactly something one could prove with such a limited sample."

Ray hugged him harder and kissed the top of his head. "You're the only sample I need. Add it to the list."

"I have to say the list for Dr. Reese. I don't think I'd be comfortable."

"Then have a public and private list, one for him and one for us."

"That might be possible."

"Okay, good, good, also you can add generous. You'd give your coat off your back to someone who needed it. Hell, I've seen you do it."

"That's just being a charitable person, Ray."

"Yeah, but that's a good thing, so add it to the damn list along with being a good provider. I mean, you cook and clean and take care of me like I've never been cared for. Plus, you're honest. You tell the truth even when it hurts like hell and that's not easy. You've got a good heart, too, and you love animals and children and old people. You'd give up your life to catch a litterbug. Oh, oh, and you're smart, too. I never knew anybody who knows all the stuff you know. It's pretty amazing. I think you'd make a great teacher. And you're tolerant, Fraser. You respect people and their different cultures and choices. I mean, how can you have trouble thinking of just five good things when there are a ton of good things to choose from?"

"I suppose because I don't always see myself as you see me, Ray. And thank you."

Ray sighed and held him closer. "You're welcome. You know, if I could meet up with the people who did this to you, you know I'd kick'em in the head for you, right?"

"No one did anything, Ray."

"Fraser, I think that's what they call denial. I was in therapy long enough to get that much."

"Possibly, but I can't blame other people for my own shortcomings. I'm an adult and, therefore, responsible for my own feelings and behaviors."

"To a point, that's true, but face it, we're all products of our upbringing. Sure we can break the patterns, like the homophobia stuff with my Dad, but that doesn't mean we're free and clear of all that baggage piled on along the way, and, Fraser, my friend, you have a shit load of baggage."

"No more than you, I fear."

"Yeah, I know. Stella."

"And Clooney."

Ray closed his eyes, his throat tight. "Anyway, now we've got each other and it's bound to get easier, right? Please tell me it gets easier, Fraser."

"It gets easier, Ray."

"That the truth?"

"As I see it, yes."

Ray slipped down further under the covers, holding Fraser as close as he could, his whole body warm with the contact. "Good enough for me. Let's get some sleep and you can do that taking to the mirror thing first thing in the morning."

"I'm supposed to do that by myself, Ray."

"I know, I know. I'll just be there in case you need a little nudge."

"A nudge from time to time is greatly appreciated."

"I nudge, you nudge, we'll get through this stuff together, partners, a duet, a team, you and me. Got that?"

"Yes, Ray, partners."

"You bet."

"No need when it's a sure thing."

Ray picked at the band-aid on the inside of his right elbow as he waited for Dr. Barnes. He scanned the room but already had the place memorized, every chart, stupid poster, and tiny crack in the wall. He could pick it out of a line up, no problem. Patience worn thin, he sighed again as he dangled his legs off the exam table. A shuffle at the outside of the door alerted him and he sat up straighter, putting on his best game face, hoping like hell the doctor had good news for a change.

Dr. Barnes walked in, scanning the notes on the chart and the lab results. "Morning, Ray."

"Doc."

"I'm happy to say your white cell count is almost back to normal. Finish that round of antibiotic and that should do it as far as the infection goes."

"That's good news, then."

"It's excellent news. And I'm pleased to see you haven't lost more weight." Barnes put the chart down and began examining the outside of Ray's throat and then listened to his heart and lungs. He took his blood pressure again even though the nurse took it earlier. When he finished, he nodded, but didn't look that happy. "Heart and lungs sound good, but your blood pressure's a little low. That's new."

"I thought low was good."

"Depends on how low it is. Have you had any sudden weakness or dizziness?"

"Not really."

"What does that mean, not really?"

"Well, when I first get up, I sometimes get dizzy, but I figured that's just all this stuff I'm taking."

"You could be right. Did you stop taking the Percocet in combination with the Phenergan like I asked you to?

Ray thought about lying, but decided against being stupid for the moment. He didn't look up, but just shrugged. "No, I still take it when I need it."

"Then that could account for the low blood pressure. I'd like you to stop the Percocet until you finish the antibiotic and Phenergan. It's important, Ray. I'll give you a prescription for Motrin, instead. That should relieve any discomfort without lowering your pressure."

"Sure, okay, whatever. So, can I