Disclaimer: With the exception of the drug dealer, Alliance owns these guys, not me. They will be returned in fairly good condition.... with minimal injuries. The title is a song by Pyschotica, owned by American Recordings. Drama, slash, drug use Since drugs(specifically heroin) play a part in this story I just want to make it clear that I have no medical background or training. Anything described in here comes purely from some less than pleasant memories of high school. Now, onto the standard warning: Rated R for M/M sexual situations, language, and drug use. I don't get too graphic, but if you're underage or the idea of two men together offends you, don't read any further. You will go blind. It happened to someone I know. Oh, you think I'm kidding.... The capacity for passion is both cruel and divine. -- George Sand 'Intimate Journal' Ice Planet Hell by Rae 2:33 AM. Constable Benton Fraser lay awake, idly watching the lazy rotation of the ceiling fan above his head. A warm summer night breeze wafted through the open window, scenting the room with the sweet perfume of the season. Hot. It was unreasonably hot. The Chicago heat could compete with the fires of Hell. Fraser was naked, but nevertheless perspiring terribly. He couldn't get back to sleep and he was sure his incessant squirming would wake his peacefully slumbering lover. It was time to get up; he just couldn't lie still any longer. Fraser disentangled himself from his lover's arms and sat up, legs dangling over the side of the bed. This action was countered by a whiny moan of objection from the slender form beside him. Stanley Ray Kowalski rolled over, muttering incoherently. Gently laying a hand on the detective's chest, Fraser bent to kiss him lightly on the ear before getting up and slipping into a pair of boxer shorts.

The hardwood floor of Ray's apartment was warm beneath his feet. He wandered into the kitchen, in search of a cold drink to relieve his parched throat and body. From the look of Kowalski's fridge, he hadn't been grocery shopping in quite awhile. But then he hadn't been home much these past few weeks either. These past few weeks, he'd practically been living at Fraser's, coming home only to retrieve clothes and a few odd-ball items he felt he just couldn't live without. All of which were now scattered around Ben's spartan domicile. This was the only thing about the detective that midly annoyed Fraser, his utter lack of organization and neatness. For instance, leaving his clothes in a rumpled pile on the floor, as was so often his tendency. Granted, there were many times when Benny was at fault for this. In heated throes of passion, he would strip Stanley naked with no throught as to where the clothes landed. But still, he was always sure to pick up afterward. On the other hand, if it were left to Ray the clothing would lie there until laundry day. Thinking on this, Ben had to laugh. Whenever he attempted to reprimand his lover for these habits, Ray would toss him such an injured expression, that he regretted his words at once. Whatever it was, Stanley knew his way around Benny's heart.

Smiling to himself, Fraser reached into the fridge and withdrew a half-empty container of orange juice. God only knew how old it was, but it felt good going down. He finished the remainder of the juicie and left the empty container by the door so he'd remember to take it down to the recycling bin on his way out.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, half-heartedly searching for something in the way of a healthy midnight snack, when two arms wrapped themselves around his waist. Ray pressed against his back and lay his chin on the Mountie's broad shoulder. "Whatchya doing?", he asked. Ben smiled, placing one hand over Stanley's and stroking the long fingers. "Nothing, Ray. I apologize if I woke you. This heat is rather uncomfortable." Kowalski's head rose from his shoulder. "Mm-hmm. You're telling me." he said quietly, "I'm sweating like a pig." Ray rose to nip at his ear. "It makes me feel so dirty." Fraser sighed, dropping his head back against Stanley's. "Hmm," the detective mumbled, "you're sweating , too." A small shudder escaped the Mountie as he felt the hot silk of Kowalski's tongue clean the sweat from his shoulderblade in one wonderful stroke. Ray's hands moved down over his hips now, thin fingers working their way into the waistband of his boxer shorts. Benton shook his head, grinning. "Oh, Ray, you're insatiable." he teased, "Aren't you ever satisfied?" Ray pulled the pretty ear between his teeth again, traced the lobe with his tongue. "I'm never satisfied, Frase. You should know that by now." At this, Benny pulled the detective's arms up and held his wrists in a one-handed grasp. He spun, pushing Stanley up against the wall. Kowalski gasped, eyes glazed with desire. "I do know, Ray." the Mountie whispered, "I just have to be reminded sometimes." He kissed the detective and was received with desperate enthusiasm. Kowalski groaned, smiled as he nipped and sucked at Benny's tongue. He tasted so sweet. Fraser let go the other man's wrists and ran his hands over the smooth, hairless chest. With very little urging and still lip-locked, he moved Ray toward the bedroom. As he did he scraped his fingernails along his lover's hardened nipples. Relished the deep, gutteral moan this action inspired. His lover was beautiful. Wild, sensual and absolutely beautiful.

Ray knew perfect harmony when Fraser was inside him. It wasn't just making love. There was a connection made each and every time that brought them together on a plane a hundred million miles higher than simple intimacy. All human frustrations and society's ills seemed to melt away with Benny's movements, his touch. Every deep thrust, every stroke, every whispered word of affection and desire had the power to heal him. As he lay in Fraser's arms, on the very threshold of sleep, he silently thanked god for bringing him this noble creature that he had come to love more than life itself.

The alarm went off at six. Ray crawled out of bed slowly, mindful of waking Fraser. Normally the other was up by five, but the heat was taking its toll on the Canadian. Kowalski showered and changed. Despite the early hour, he was feeling pretty damn good. Aside from the little spring that mind-blowing sex put in his step, he was anticipating the fact that today he, Huey and Dewey were taking down one of the worst drug dealers in Chicago. Several exhausting weeks of painstakingly gathering evidence had finally paid off. No more loopholes. Today was the day they nailed Lee Rankman's ass to the wall. He watched Fraser sleep as he put on his jacket and gathered his car keys. The Mountie was beautiful, at peace. Ray perched on the edge of bed, running his fingers through Benny's mussed hair. He moaned, eyes fluttered open. "Hey, there." Kowalski kissed him, drew back and kissed him again. "I gotta go." Fraser raised his head slightly to glance at the clock. "I'm sorry, Ray. ", he murmured sleepily, "I didn't even hear the alarm go off. I-" Ray silenced his lover with another soft kiss. "Relax, Fraser. You're supposed to sleep in on your day off." Benny mumbled something and closed his eyes. Kowalski drew on the pleasure of watching his lover doze for a few more minutes and then took off.

"We're closing the Rankman file." Welsh was sitting behind his desk, scribbling something on paper as he spoke to Kowalski. The detective's eyes grew wide and his jaw nearly hit the floor. "What do you mean?" "I mean we're closing it. We're shutting down the operation." Ray felt the blood rush to his face. "Why?" He stopped writing and looked up. "Because I said so. Don't question me on this, Detective." Kowalski leaned forward, pressing his palms down on Welsh's desk. "I'm so close. Just let me-" "Don't question me on this, Detective." Welsh's voice was low, but it held powerful warning and Stanley silenced himself quickly. "Take the day off. You look tired." With that the lieutenant went back to his writing. The conversation was shot dead. There was nothing more to be said. Kowalski left the office with the flames of anger and injustice burning beneath his flesh.

Lee Rankman was a drug dealer and a cold-blooded killer. He flaunted this fact openly and everyone knew it. But no one could do a goddamn thing about it. The man knew his way around the system. He knew which buttons to push and strings to pull. He had a damn good attorney and a lethal reputation. He was untouchable. Kowalski wasn't going to back down, not on this. He'd seen too much of the man's handiwork, it was etched in his mind. Rankman knew Huey and Dewey; they had questioned him on several occasions. But Rankman didn't know Ray. Now, there was an angle to be played.....

This incident had considerably soured Ray's mood and he didn't feel like going back home. He didn't want to talk and the last thing he needed was Fraser tailing him like a mother cat trying to coax it out of him. He drove into the dusty tenements where Rankman operated. The bastard made plenty of money, but maintained base camp here. He had once told Dewey and Huey this was because the cops didn't give a rat's ass about these neighborhoods. The ghetto was no man's land as far as the law was concerned. Recalling that the interest in Rankman had been taken only after a preppy kid from uptown had overdosed, Ray wondered if the dealer's insight was right. He sighed deeply and leaned against his car. "Yo, Stanley!" Ray turned to see Levon Jefferson walking toward him. His face lit up, bad mood momentaryily forgotten. "Hey, man!", he said, embracing his former protege."How the hell have you been?" "I've been good. How 'bout you? Don't see you around much no more." "Well, work's been a bitch." Levon backed away, making a playful attempt at an upper cut. Ray dodged it, but got caught lightly in the stomach by an underhanded punch. "You've been practicing.", he said proudly. Levon grinned. "And you're outta practice, old man." Ray raised an eyebrow. "Shit, I could run circles around you any day." The kid was still bouncing. "C'mon, man, walk with me, talk with me."

Kowalski folded his arms over his chest and dragged his feet alittle as he and Levon made their way down the littered streets. The teen chattered about school, his gang, his girlfriend and his boxing career. Finally, having a pause to take in a breath, he grew serious. "So what brings you down here, Five-O? Sure as hell can't be no pleasure trip.", he said, unable to keep the snide edge out of his remark. Ray stopped walking and looked at him. "Why do you have to say that?" Levon sighed. "C'mon, man. The only time you cops take an interest-" Kowalski's jaw tightened; that comment hurt him more than he would let the kid see. "Hey. You cops? C'mon, Levon. This is me, Ray, man. I thought I was your boy." Levon glanced down. "You are my boy, homes. But you're still five-o." He sighed again. "I'm just saying the only time cops come down here is when some rich woman got her purse stolen or some little preppy shit got off at the wrong stop and lost his lunch money." Kowalski looked down, not willing to defend himself. "What are you doing down here?" "You know Lee Rankman?" Levon scoffed. "Psycho dealer? Likes to sample more than he sell?" "That be him." "Yeah. Everyone down here knows him, man. He's dangerous. But he's been operating here for awhile, why the sudden interest?" Kowalski's jaw tightened. "A kid from Lincoln Park overdosed on his junk." Levon threw up his hands in frustration. "See! Man, I knew it." Ray grabbed the teen by his parka. "I know what he's done here! You think I don't want to see his head in a noose! Rich, poor, it doesn't mean anything! This isn't about that! People are dying. We were close, man. So close to bringing him down!", he growled, "Somehow he found a loop and this morning my lieutenant tells me I have to back down. But I am NOT backing down, Levon. I'm gonna get Rankman, even if I have to do it myself." Levon grabbed his wrists and pushed him away. "Bullshit! You think Rankman can't smell a cop at a hundred paces?! Who the hell are you, Robocop? You think he's just gonna let you saunter in and slip the handcuffs on?! He'll kill you!" "I'm willing to risk that!" "Aw, shit, Ray! Don't be pulling off this martyr crap! You never lived in the 'hood. You don't know how things work." "Then help me!" That silenced the teen for a moment, he stared at Ray in horror. "What?!" "All you'd have to do is get me in." "Hell, no, man! You'll get us both killed." "Fine. I'll figure it out, find my own way. I'm go in undercover." Levon scrowled. "Alone?! With no back-up?!" "I am on my own either way!" "Ray, listen, goddamnit! He will kill you! You may be five-o and a major pain in the ass, but you are still my boy and I do want to see you die." "Then help me. Please. Just get me in. That's all you'd have to do. Sh-" A shrill scream cut him off in mid sentence. Suddenly a pale woman with sandy blonde hair came running toward them, tears streaming down her face. "Levon! Oh, God, please help!" The teen took hold of the hysterical woman. "Theresa, calm down, what's wrong?" Her eyes, filled with panic darted back and forth between Ray and Levon. "It's J-Jack. I don't know what's wrong! He's not-he's all blue and. He was using. I think he got into Dad's stash-" The realization hit Ray and he grabbed her arms. "Where is he?" "I-In the apartment.", she stuttered. He looked to Levon. "Bring her and come." Kowalski called for an ambulence as they climbed the stairs, explaining that it was a heroin overdose, but wisely did not identify himself as a police officer to the dispatcher. "Who's Jack?", he asked, as Levon led the way to the apartment. "Her little brother. He's eleven." The detective looked horrified. "Eleven?!" Levon threw him a weary grimace. "Welcome to my world, man."

Jack was a wiry, pale little thing that resembled a Hallmark Snow Baby. He was very small and barely weighed in Ray's arms as the detective picked him up. Theresa had been right. The boy's lips were blue, a thick, slimy foam was gathering at corners of his mouth. His pupils were like pin points, not constricting at all. Ray carried the boy down the stairs and waited for the ambulence. Even as it pulled up the child began to convulse in his arms and the small eyes rolled back in his head. Kowalski could only stand and watch as the paramedics strapped him in tight to the bed. And then he couldn't bear to watch it any longer.

Ray was sitting on the hood of his car, face buried in his hands when he heard Levon's voice. "Theresa thinks you're one of my homeboys from uptown. I even gave you a fake name. Damon Wolcott. Her old man's gonna want to meet you. He's one of Rankman's oldest customers. Guy's got shit for brains. Tell 'im you wanna buy and he'll set it up for you. Just watch yourself, Rankman is suspicious of everyone." Kowalski sighed, unable to shake the vision of the boy. He felt the kid pat him on the back. "Hey. Tell the Mountie I said what's up." "Thanks, Levon." The teen shook his head. "Don't thank me, man. I want to see the bastard go down, but I think what you're doing is real stupid." As he began to walk away something made Ray turn and say, "It's not on you, man." Levon scoffed. "Yeah, right."

As predicted, Theresa's father did contact Kowalski. When Ray met with him was offered a line to snort(which he turned down) and a whiskey, but not a word was spoken about the little boy. The man, who was nearly incoherent, muttered about 'these useless politicians' and 'those damn fool Canadians', but he said not a word about his son. The guy had a terrible stink on him, as if he hadn't showered in months and Ray found the odor almost overpowering. He had to fight back nausea as the subject turned to drugs and he mentioned cautiously that he was a buyer and he had recently lost his connection to a police drug bust. At once the old man waved his arms around excitedly and offered to hook Ray up with his connection. 'A good man.' he exclaimed, "A honorable man. You buy from him and you know what you're getting. Not like these foreigners who are always trying to rip off honest, hard-working Americans like us." He shook his head. "You come here tomorrow night, around nine and I'll set you up. But don't bring no money. Lee don't sell to just anyone. He's got to meet you first."

Ray came home late at night, with no mention as to where he'd been or what he'd done. Fraser had called the precinct twice and was nearly ready to go out in search of the detective when Kowalski walked through the door. There appeared to be a heavy weight on his shoulders, obvious in the way his body sagged and the way he dragged his feet as he walked. Stan didn't say a word, only looked at the Mountie for a second then stipped off his jacket and settled down in front of the television. The silence between them was profound and painful. Ben had not seen Ray so unresponsive the Botrelle case and he knew better than to prob. Ray would come to him when he was ready. Until then there was nothing more to be done than ride out the storm. Dinner was eaten in absolute quiet so the sound of Dief's breathing alone was deafening. By the time they went to bed Fraser was beginning to doubt that Ray was going to come around if he wasn't forced out. The only thing that Kowalski did initiate was sex. And that was exactly what it was. They didn't make love. It was not pleasurable, or even satisfying; it was clincal and detached. A few moans, gasps, but no words and their lips never met. Ray was cruel, pinning Fraser, biting him hard enough to leave bruises and disregarding the Mountie's pained gasps. Then Stan shoved him onto his stomach and entered him roughly and Benny pressed his face into the bed to stifle a scream. It hurt so terribly that tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. The whole time the detective just panted and with every cry from Ben he increased the roughness. When it was finished, Ray turned over, facing away from his lover. Fraser did the same, but he felt used and miserable.

Ben awoke to find the bed empty. He could hear muffled coughing and sat up. The bathroom was wide open and he could see Ray on his knees, hunched over the toilet. Scrambling out of bed, the Mountie went to him. The detective's head rested on the edge of the seat; he looked up at Fraser, quietly pleading. Stan's face was flushed and his hair was matted with sweat. Benny fell on his knees beside his lover and gently rubbed his back. "Ray?" Kowalski dropped his head again and vomitted. "Ray." Fraser held his shoulders and braced Ray's lithe, trembling body against his own muscled frame. Through uncontrollable crying , he coughed and gasped ,almost hyperventillating. Ben ran his fingers through the detective's hair, trying to calm him. "Tell me what's wrong.", he whispered. Kowalski bit his lip, trying to stifle the sob. He hated to be like this, especially in front of Fraser. "Tell me what's wrong, Ray." He sighed deeply and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Hid throat was sore and burning. Ben sat back against the bathtub, easing Ray into a comforting embrace. Kowalski rested his head on Fraser's shoulder, appreciative for the warmth of his body. He was so very tired. "He was just a baby." "I'm sorry?" Ray wrapped his arm around one of Benton's. "The boy. Jack. I can't get him outta my head, Frase." "The boy?" He felt Ray shudder. "He was tied down, like an animal. They tied him down like an animal." Another shudder and a shaky breath. "He was just a baby. I tried to--wanted to help. But I couldn't---couldn't control..." His voice trailed off. Benton hugged him tightly, covered his tear-stained face with kisses. He hadn't the slightest idea of what Ray spoke of, but right now his only concern was calming the detective. "It wasn't your fault." Kowalski didn't seem to hear him. "His eyes were black, Ben. Like coal." He was distant, unreachable. He hardly noticed when Ben hoisted him to his feet and took him back to bed. "Like coal.", he mumbled again as Fraser eased him down onto the pillows and pulled the bedsheet up to his waist. Ray was still whispering to himself as the Mountie slid in next to him. Though he strained to understand, not a single word was audible to him. Even after his lover had fallen asleep, Benton couldn't find peace enough to do the same.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Ray was rushing about like chicken with its head cut off. He took messy gulps from his coffee as he tried to pull on a shirt and eat his breakfast. Benny sat on a barstool, watching Ray with much concern. "You didn't sleep well last night. I felt you could use the rest." He was now hopping around, trying to put on his shoes and reaching for his wallet and car keys. "Ompf!" Unsuccessfully. "Look, " He stood. "do me a favor?" "Anything." "Don't ever, ever turn off the alarm and not wake me." "I apologize. It's just that last night you were-" "Forget last night! That was indigestion. Just don't be pulling off this kind of crap again, o.k.?" "Yes, Ray. I'm sorry. I was just concerned." This seemed to enrage the detective. "I do not need your concern!", he snapped. Gathering his keys he said,"C'mon. I'll drop you off at the Consulate." Ben was now unable to mask his hurt. "I'd rather walk, Ray." The detective nodded, opening the door. "Fine. Whatever." He stormed out, slamming the door behind him with enough force to shake a stack of CDs from the shelf.

Kowalski was jittery all day. The fight he'd had with Fraser that morning was pushed into the back of his mind. Something about last night was eating at him, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was. His business with Rankman overshadowed everything else. There was a certain fear for his life that was countered by the adrenline rush that was already building in him. Nine came around much faster than he expected. With much begging and pleading he managed to persuade Frannie to lend him one of her brother's suits. Mercifully, he and Vecchio were about the same size. Even as Kowalski drove to the meeting place, he fidgeted uncomfortably in the suit and he wondered how Vecchio managed to dress like this on a daily basis. He shook off the self conscious feeling as made his way up the stairs. He was met by a man who identified himself as 'an associate of Mr. Rankman.' Ray was led into what could only be described as the penthouse of the tenament. It was large in size but sparsely furnished. The walls were a sickly shade of yellow and much of the paint was peeling. A tall man with curly black hair sat in a rocking chair, watching the visitor with cool detachment. "Mr. Wolcott." Ray smiled thinly, his eyes darting for a moment to the 'associate' as he left. "Mr. Rankman." The dealer stood slowly and approached Kowalski. Carefully, he adjusted the detective's jacket. "I understand you saved Jack's life yesterday." Bastard, your crap nearly killed him. "Yes." "Good work." Son of a bitch. "Thank you." "So, I hear you want to do business with me." "That would be correct." He nodded, turning away. "Well, tell you what, I'm gonna hook you up with some of my best stuff. You like what you feel and we can set up a buy." Like what I feel? What the hell was Levon talking about? This guy isn't careful, he's just a freak. "I'm sorry?" Rankman tossed him a look. "I'm gonna let you sample the product first. I'm a tough businessman, Wolcott, but I don't expect you to buy something without taking it out for a test drive first." Kowalski's stomach turned. Sample? Test drive? Oh, geez. He must have appeared apprehensive, because Rankman was moving toward him, the hint of a predatory smile on his thin, chapped lips. Ray tried to play it cool. "I just sell, I ain't a client." Rankman was circling him like a jackal. "That's cute. Or maybe you're a cop, huh? Undercover?" He was pushed roughly onto the couch then. Panic gripped Kowalski. How much did Rankman know? If he even suspected.... "Are you a narc, pretty boy?" Stanley glared at him, forcing the Fear into the back of his mind. "Do I look like a narc?" Rankman traced Ray's jawline, stroked the cheekbone, "Yeah." He ran his fingers over Kowalski's lips. "You're gonna get high with me, before you go." The detective shook his head. "You're some kinda freak. No way!" Suddenly the big hand was around his throat, cutting off oxygen. "Listen to me. You'll get high, or you'll get dead. Can your little uptown mentality grasp that?" Ray managed to croak out a 'yes' and he was released. His heart pounded miserably as Rankman prepared the heroin. It wasn't alittle bit of pot, or maybe a hit of acid. This was heroin, one of the most addictive narcotics...'Just one time,' Ray thought, 'just one.' Rackman pinned him against the couch. "Don't trust no one who won't at least sample." Kowalski bit his lip to subdue his trembling as the dealer pushed his sleeve up close to the shoulder. He closed his eyes, unable to look as Rackman probed his arm for a vein. And then the familiar 'tap, tap' of a finger gently flicking the syringe. His arm was gripped hard and Kowalski sucked in a breath as the needle stabbed into his flesh. He shuddered violently as Rackman released him. "Best stuff. Best stuff you'll ever get." the fellow mumbled. The detective massaged his arm, only now noticing the large bruise that was already appearing on the pale flesh and a small pinpoint of blood where the needle had entered. At once his head began to swim and he fell from the couch onto the floor. It seemed his lungs refused to work. Falling. He was loosing all sense of direction, up or down. Rackman's hands were on him, shoving him into a sitting position. "Can't handle your shit, eh?" Another wave of panic passed over Ray. Did Rackman know? But then then the dealer continued. "That's the problem with you uptown guys, thinking you can market a product you ain't never even tried yourself." But the detective wasn't listening. The drug was already beginning to drop anchors in his brain. Oh, what a rush. He sighed deeply. Suddenly, everything felt so good. Real good. Rankman was seated across from in a rocking chair, watching him. Watching him. Ray flashed him a broad, lop-sided, Chesire Cat grin. Maybe Rankman wasn't such a bad guy after all. Kowalski giggled, rubbing his eyebrow. What the hell was he here to do again? Um...Oh....No, wait. That wasn't it....Jeez, he just couldn't remember. Gosh, and normally he had a really good--Wait, was he thinking about? Oh, right, hockey. No, that can't be right. Bending? No. Twisting? No. Ah! Curling. Right, curling. Brooms. Brooms are funny. They've got bristles and stuff. Whoosh! Maybe it's just outta season or something. 'Maybe you just need to get laid.' Stan burst out laughing. 'You're a funny guy, Ray. You just crack me up.'

Somewhere in the last hour, Stanley had stopped laughing. He was stretched out on the worn parlour rug, his cheek pressed into the scratchy fabric. Each breath was sucked in with concentrated effort. Tears rolled over his face, moistened his dry lips. Stan couldn't string a full thought together. A crushing guilt had overtaken him. Last night. Sex. He'd hurt Fraser. Badly. Oh, shit. Like a zombie, he ungracefully pulled himself into a sitting position; motor functions required so much effort. Pain. God, his ear ached, like someone was sticking a icepick in there and twisting it around. Ow! Make it stop! Ray's head fell back, his eyes fixing on the ceiling, looking past it. Every sound was suddenly amplified by hundreds and thousands. The television in the next room, the flies on the landing outside, unsteady pounding of his heart, the rush of blood in his veins. He fell back onto his side again. No. No. No. Nausea, sickness. Kowalski curled up in a fetal position, hugging his sides. Oh, God. Oh, God, Oh, God. It hurts. It hurts. Rankman squatted down beside him, running his fingers through the detective's short blond hair. "It hurts.", he whimpered. "Yeah.. Kinda like being a virgin. Always hurts the first time." The dealer's voice was cheerful and it drilled through Ray's mind. The guy was taking pleasure in this, in watching him suffer. "Fraser.", he whispered, "Fraser."

For whatever the reason, Rankman agreed to set up a buy in a few days. The fact that Kowalski had done the drug had convinced him that he wasn't a cop. By the time Ray got out to his car, he had already begun to wish he was dead. The pain in his belly was unbearable. There seemed to be a 50 ton weight on his chest. His arm was bruised and aching where he had shot up. It was nearly 11:30 in the morning. He was supposed to be at work at eight. Oh, shit and he hadn't even called Fraser. Didn't go home last night, his Mountie would be upset. He was gonna call. He was, but he began nodding off in the middle of traffic. Realizing his exhaustion, he pulled the car into the parking lot of the grocery store. So tired. He crept into the back seat, curled up and slept.

It was 3:45 when he awoke. He felt somewhat better, if not extremely hungry. He got back into the driver's seat and called the Consulate. "Canadian Consulate, Constable Fraser speaking." Kowalski knew that tone, distant and distracted. "Ben?" "Ray?!" He sounded relieved. "How are you?" "I'm fine, Frase. It's just, I've had a long night." "I was worried." "I know. I'm sorry. I should have called." "Yes, you should have. You need to call the precinct. Lieutenant Welsh has been calling here every half hour looking for you." "Yeah. I'll call him." He sighed, biting his lip as he felt another bout of drilling in his head, "I'll see you tonight, o.k?" "Fine. Are you sure you're o.k.?" "Yes." After he hung up with Fraser the nausea took a strangle hold on his stomach and he wasn't able to contain it any more. He pulled the car into a fire lane, opened the door and emptied most of his stomach contents(what little there was left) into the street. He sighed, cradling his head between his knees. His eyes watered and he suddenly wished his mother was there to cuddle and comfort him as she had done when he was a child. Inhaling, he got back into the car and dialed the precinct. As soon as it picked up he said, "Frannie?" A gasp on the other end. "Oh, God! Ray are you o.k.? We've been worried sick about you. Welsh is gonna have kittens!" Kittens? "Where the hell have you been?" "I was trying to take down Lee Rankman." "Rankman! Are you insane? Look, I'm going to put you on with Welsh, he's-" "No!" That was not the person he needed to talk to right now."Just tell him I'm on my way and that I'll talk to him when I get in."

"Detective, get your ass in here! Now!" Kowalski took a deep breath. His chest constricted and his lungs seemed to have shrunk in size. Frannie and Huey offered him quick glances of sympathy. He cursed under his breath and shuffled slowly into Welsh's office. He'd seen the lieutenant pissed before, and on more than one occasion he'd been the cause of it. But this was definitely over the top, even for Welsh. The older man was in his face, bellowing about IA and Ray's lack of responsibilty. "I should have your shield for this! What the hell did you think you were doing?!" Kowalski swallowed, finally able to meet his superior's eyes. He could feel the other man's hot breath on his face. "Well, Detective?!" He sighed, that terrible nausea coming over him again. "Private investigation.", he rasped, mumbled, trying to combat the dizziness. "What?! Speak up!" Kowalski swallowed again. "It was a private investigation.", he said more loudly, though his voice was still near a whisper. "A private investigation?" Welsh's voice was softer now, but not by much. "Even after I told you leave it alone?" "Yes, sir." The lieutenant nodded. "Yes." He shook his head, almost sadly and turned away from Stanley. And Ray couldn't bear the disappointment on his face. "I couldn't let Rankman get away with it. I couldn't. He's pure evil and dangerous and-" "Yes. Very dangerous." Welsh massaged his temple. For a time there was an uncomfortable silence. Kowalski like felt a disobedient teenager who had disgraced his father. "I want the whole story, Detective. Right now." Welsh settled in behind his desk and Ray lowered his eyes. Slowly, the story unfolded. The boy, his full involvment with Rackman, the attempt to bring the man to justice and the night's drug incident. Welsh sat and listened to all this carefully, taking note of Ray's sweating, his edginess, his wide, blood-shot eyes and trembling form. "Detective, how much heroin were you injected with?" Kowalski rubbed his forehead nervously. God, he didn't want to think. He was just so tired. "I-I don't know. I-I didn't look." The liuetenant concealed his worry in a strong, calm voice. He did not want to panic Kowalski any further by making a fuss. "I think you should sit down, Ray.", he said. Kowalski shook his head. "N-No. No. I'd really like to go home and maybe, um, maybe-" He staggered, groping at anything and nothing for support. Welsh rose, but did not make it around the desk fast enough to catch the detective as he crumbled.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Ray opened his eyes. He felt groggy and his head ached something terrible. Beep. Beep. Oh, the monitor. He hated that sound. Beep. Beep. Beep. He groaned, shifting slightly. "Detective?" He heard the heavy steps and looked over to see Welsh walking toward the bed. "How are you feeling?" He sighed. "Good. Real good.", he replied with exaggerated cheerfulness. The lieutenant pulled a chair close to the bed. "Cut the sarcasm, detective." Ray growled, but had the good sense to hold his tongue. "You've gotten yourself in deep this time, Kowalski. IA is going to have a field day with this." Ray glared at him in disbelief. "Screw IA! Rackman is responsible for more deaths than we have record of. He buys the cooperation of his neighbors through violence and if they don't play ball, he kills them or he kills their families. He sells drugs to children. " He glared at Welsh through burning eyes."Have you ever seen an eleven year old kid overdose? Convulsions, swallowing the tongue, eyes rolling back in his head, foaming at the mouth. It ain't pretty. " The lieutenant lowered his head, sighing even as Ray continued to rant. "You ever seen a crack baby? They're so little. Like mice. Skinny little arms. They look like they're still fetuses, like they weren't ready to be born yet." Welsh reached out to place his hand over Kowalski's. "Detective, I've been walking the streets of this city since you were a toddler. I've seen children die of overdoses in front of me. I've seen babies shot to death by doped-up parents. It doesn't get any easier. I know it tears you apart, but you are still an officer of the law. You took an oath and you can't just toss the rules out the window when they get in the way." Ray shook his head. "Right, the rules. I forgot, these guys have rights, protection. Can't go stepping on those. That would be unconstitusional." The lieutenant raised his finger to remind Kowalski about the sarcasm. "The rules are also there to protect hot-headed, loose cannons like yourself. Detective, you collasped in my office. I was sure you were dying and I don't remember being that scared in a long time." Kowalski looked at him, surprised by this confession. "When my detectives hurt, I hurt too." "Thanks, Lieu." Ray's voice was almost a whisper. "Yeah. Yeah." Welsh gave him a light slap on the cheek, "Tell anyone else I said that and I'll cut out your tongue out myself." Kowalski smiled. "So, what now?" Welsh sighed. "Based on what you gave us, Narcotics was able to pick up Rankman. But he knows about you now." "Ooh. I'm trembling." "Don't underestimate this guy. You need to watch your back." He stood up. "Alright. Now the doctor says you can go home, but you'll need plenty of rest. I'll have Huey give you a ride. In the meantime, I'm posting a guard outside." He held up a hand to stop the immediate protest from the detective. "I don't want to hear it. Also, Frannie has gone to the Consulate to get Fraser." Kowalski groaned. Why did they have to tell the Mountie? No point in making him worry needlessly. "You didn't have to disturb him.", he said quietly. Welsh was adjusting his coat. "He called for you and we couldn't very well lie. Anyhow, seeing as how you two are close, I figured it would be good for you." Ray grinned slyly. Close. Hmm, Welsh had no idea. The lieutenant caught the little smile and raised an eyebrow to Stanley. "Something you find humorous, Detective?" Kowalski's smile grew. "No, sir." "Ray!" A blur of pink and black rushed at him and suddenly Ray was wrapped in Frannie's arms, his face buried in her hair. "Oh, thank God, thank God.", she murmured, "I was so worried." He rubbed her back gently. "I'm fine, Frannie. No reason to worry." She pulled away from him and gave him a light, mock punch in the shoulder. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, Bro." Suddenly he felt ashamed for what he had done and guilty. So often he acted without thinking of the consquences to people who cared about him. She eased back from him, still holding his hands. "You're so pale. Ma would have a fit if she saw you." Kowalski shook his head. He looked up and saw Fraser standing in the doorway. Welsh put his hand on Frannie's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get some coffee." He looked at the Mountie as he left. "Knock some sense into him, would you?" Ben nodded. "Yes, sir." He closed the door behind them and turned to his lover.

Kowalski couldn't conceal the smile that played across his lips as Fraser approached with that patented annoyed, but worried expression he threw at Ray so often. "Ray-" Kowalski laughed. Poor Benny, the things he had to put up with. "Ray, this is not at all humorous. What has gotten into you? You could have been killed last night." Stanley sighed. "But I wasn't." He could sense an Inuit story coming on. "Aw, save the lecture, Frase. I already got two from Welsh." Ben sat down in the chair and ran his hand over Ray's arm. "Not undeservingly." He touched the tattoo on Ray's shoulder. "Why do you do these things?" Kowalski rolled his eyes. Here it comes. "Do what, Frase?" "Deliberately put yourself in harm's way." "It's what I do. It's my job. Rankman's a dirty bastard. I couldn't stand around and let him keep killing people. I did what I had to do. Why is that such a big deal?" Ben touched his fingers lightly to Stan's eyes. "You're my whole life, Ray. I can't loose you.", he said. The detective winced. That did it. No matter how he justified his recklessness to himself, Fraser always seemed to find the flaw and exploit it. He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Ben. I just can't deal with the thought of scum like Rankman walking around nearly untouchable." He glanced down shamefully at the folded corner of his sheet. "I want to apologize for yesterday. I had a bad day. And then I came home and I was total dick to you." Ben's expression was soft. "No. I understand." Ray sucked in a breath, studying the Mountie carefully. "I, uh, I hurt you pretty bad last night, didn't I?" Fraser didn't reply at once, but dropped his eyes. "You were upset, Ray.", he replied as a length," I don't blame you-" "Goddamnit! I hurt you! Stop trying to make me feel better, Frase." "I'm not trying to-" "Stop it! I hurt you! Just tell me I hurt you! I want to hear it say it!" He sighed. "Yes. You hurt me." Ray bowed his head. "I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry." Fraser took his hand and twined their fingers together. "You have nothing to be sorry for." "Don't say that. I was frustrated and angry and I took it out on you. Forgive me?" Ben was about to object again and say that nothing the man had done required forgiving, but the pain and guilt in his lover's eyes silenced that thought. "I forgive you, Ray.", he replied simply. Kowalski smiled, visibly relieved by this. "Thanks, Frase. I needed that." Fraser nodded sympathically and teased the detective's dishelved hair. Ray sighed. This action gave him an excuse to change the subject. "I guess I look kinda crappy, huh?" Benny stroked his chin, tickled by the light stubble. "You'll always be beautiful to me, Ray." "Aw.." Fraser was amused to see his lover blush shyly. He moved forward and captured Kowalski's lips with his own. Ray moaned softly into his mouth. Slowly, Benton pulled away and looked into the detective's green eyes. It was the kind that gaze that Ray could feel, as if Benny were searching his soul. "I love you.", he whispered. Kowalski touched his face lightly. "I love you too, Frase."

The Rankman case would go to trial thanks to a judge who was seeking re-election. Stella Kowalski would be prosecuting and this was an incredible comfort to Ray. Her courtroom tactics were brilliant and ruthless, bordering sadistic. She was an expert at discrediting just about any witness that the defense brought in and, if she was in a particular irritable mood, she could make them cry. Her agreement to take on Rankman was more or less personal. Though she would deny it until her dying breath, the she wanted revenge for what he had done to Ray.

The easy part was over; the hardest was yet to come. Now all the 27th could was pray that the jury would make the right decision. (continued in part 2: 180 Degrees)