Disclaimer: Um, see Parts 1-3

Story Notes: Character death.

SequelTo: A to Z: In Sickness and Health Part 4 (a)

We both spend the night tossing and turning. Benny tosses and turns but somehow manages not to wake up. Force of will I guess. I toss and turn without sleeping and come to a decision. As quietly as I can, I get up and get dressed. I scribble a quick note to my husband about an errand and put it on the night table.

At the front desk, I ask the clerk to get me driving directions to the Kowalski's. It's about four in the morning or so and sure I could wait a couple of hours for Benny to wake up and give me the low down. But Benny will do what he still does. He'll put the best possible spin on whatever Kowalski's mixed up in. I want to get a handle on what's going down without the benefit of Benny colored lenses.

The clerk gave me really good directions. I get to Kowalski's place pretty quickly. The house is in the center of a cul de sac with a detached garage and what looks like an apartment built above it. And that makes sense, it's bad enough to be pushing forty and living with your parents. You might as well try for some kind of boundaries. I park on the street and try not to look too conspicuous sitting in my car. I've got all of my credentials with me in case I get any kind of static from the neighbors or their security patrol company. It's not quite a gated community, but all the houses look the same on the outside and they all have the same red, white and blue security signs in their front yards.

There aren't any lights on in the main house and none in the apartment or the garage. It occurs to me that Stan might not be home. It also dawns on me that I'm not above going to his parents to see if I can get a read on his situation. For now, I'll just sit tight and keep the place under surveillance. I don't really have much of a plan. It all sort of depends on what kind of reception I get from him.

I only have to wait about forty-five minutes before a light comes on in the apartment. I slouch a little lower behind the steering wheel of the rental and wait.

There are maybe ten or fifteen steps that lead from the apartment down to the ground and it seems to take Stan twenty minutes to get down them. He looks like he's dressed to go out. As he makes his way to the front of the garage, his limp seems much more pronounced then the last time I saw him. I think that was maybe six months after the wedding. He bends awkwardly for the handle of the garage door to lift it up. He's having a lot of trouble trying to balance on the one good leg. I'm almost half way out of the car to give him a hand when he finally manages to raise the door enough to drag himself inside. Once his body clears the door, it slides slowly quietly closed again.

And I wait. If he comes out and goes back to the apartment then I'll go up and see how it's hangin'. If he drives out, I'll just follow him and see if there are other players in this game that I need to know about.

I hear what sounds like the low rumble of a car starting. I roll down my window a little and the sound carries in the silence. Stan's gonna be on the move and I'm gonna be right with him. I slide my key in the ignition and wait. And wait. Kowalski's kind of a gear head. If he's still got the GTO, could be he's just up doing a little early, very early morning tinkering. I wait.

About a half an hour passes and I figure he's in the garage for the long haul>The sun's coming up and it's already hot. I slip out of my car and jog across the street. It's not the smartest thing in the world to sneak up on a cop, even a lamed retired one, but I don't want to wake up the neighborhood. I don't think he's gonna hear a knock over the engine so I reach for the door handle and lift. It's not locked and comes right up.

One of the good things about being well-trained is that in an emergency that training kicks in automatically. Even before it really registers that there is hose taped to the window that's coming from the back of the car, I'm shrugging off my jacket, wrapping it around my arm and busting the GTO's passenger window. I scramble to unlock the door and yank it open. Kowalski's head lolls on the back of the driver's seat. I feel for a pulse. It's thready. I grab the key out of the ignition, roll down his window. The hose that was wedged there falls on the floor. I unclip my cell from my waistband and dial 911.

"You stupid son of a bitch. Don't do this." I yell at Kowalski as soon as I'm done with the dispatch operator, but of course he doesn't move. I start to plant my knee more firmly on the seat to get some leverage and "Ow shit." Something digs into my knee. I pause for just a second to see what it is and I see three identical envelopes on the seat. I grab them, shove them in my back pocket and reach for Kowalski. It is surprisingly easy to get him out of the car. He is almost feather light. I carry him a few feet from the open garage door and lay him down on the concrete. Shaking the glass out of my jacket, I bunch it up and cushion his head. I can hear the wail of the ambulance in the distance. "Stanley Raymond Kowalski!" Now I don't care so much about waking the neighborhood. I shout his name some more, but he's still down. I try another approach, I bend low to his ear, "Don't you fuckin' do this to Benny man." Nothing. At least he's breathing.

The things emergency training don't cover, instinct does. I have just enough time before the ambulance turns onto the Kowalski's street to run back into the garage and un-tape the hose from the tail pipe and kick it under a workbench. No use anyone jumping to conclusions. Let Kowalski tell us what happened.

The paramedics are running towards Stan. I tell them what I know. By now a few of the neighbors have gathered in front of their own homes. The lights have gone on in the main house so I go to the front door to speak to his father as he steps onto the threshold. He's already fully dressed.

"Mr. Kowalski, I don't know if you remember me, I'm Raymond Vecchio." I stifle the overwhelming urge to say the real Raymond Vecchio as I extend my hand. "Stanley has had an...something has happened with Stanley and the car. He's unconscious but he's is still breathing."

His father gives me a look that makes me wonder if this is the first time the paramedics have been to this house for an "accident." He brushes past me and goes to see about his son. His wife comes to the door in her robe. I see almost the same look on her face. No surprise, only a certain resignation. "He's still breathing." I say lamely.

"I better get dressed." She steps back into the house and I turn and see they've got Stan ready for transport His father clutches his hand and bends low to kiss his son on the forehead. He says something to the paramedic then climbs in the back as they load Stan in.

"Which hospital?" I shout.

"Tempe Memorial." The paramedic calls back.

I step into the Kowalski home to wait for Stan's mom. I call the hotel and ask the concierge to arrange a cab to take Benny to the hospital. Then I have them connect me to our room. God how am I gonna tell Benny?

***************************************

The cab gets him to the hospital just a few minutes after I've escorted Mrs. Kowalski to her husband's side in a semi-private family waiting area . He was pale. Looked very old. He slipped his arms around his wife and pulled her into a silent embrace. I didn't find out exactly what Stan's condition is. I don't think I want to know. I wanted to intercept Benny as soon as he got here. I meet him at the door of the cab.

"What's happened Ray? Why are we at the hospital."

I didn't tell him anything on the phone, just that I had the car and I was sending a cab to bring him to meet me. "It's Stan." He tenses so hard that I flinch.

I wrap my arms around him. "Stan tried to kill himself this morning. When the paramedics brought him to the hospital, he was unconscious."

My husband pulls out of my arms and looks at me for an eternity without speaking. I see a flicker of the same look that the Kowalski's had earlier mixed with something darker. I wonder if this is what Benny was going to tell me this morning. I brush my finger across his cheek, "I'm so sorry, baby"

We join the Kowalski's in the waiting area. Benny hugs Stan's mom and shakes his father's hand. While he is in the middle of greeting them, an emergency room doctor shambles towards us. He stops and looks at the Kowalski's straight on. It never gets easier giving people bad news. Everyone in our little group tenses.

"I'm sorry," he begins. Mrs. Kowalski starts to buckle beside me. Her husband and I reach for her at the same time. Just as I turn more towards her, I see a quick flash of color out of the side of my eye and I hear a low keening.

A lot is going on suddenly. Mr. Kowalski takes his wife's arm from me and walks her to a chair. I turn around to say something to Benny and he's not standing beside me anymore. And that keening is a little louder. I look down in the direction of the noise and there's my husband. On his hands and knees rocking back and forth on the floor. That sound is coming from Benny. I drop to one knee beside him and put my hand on his shoulder. "Benny. Come on Benny." I try to help him stand and he resists. "Caro, please..." Then the doctor is beside me. And Benny doesn't even seem to notice. "Are you and he together?"

"He's my husband."

"What's his name.?" The doctor is busy taking Benny's pulse.

"Benton Fraser. I'm Ray, Ray Vecchio."

"Mr. Vecchio is your husband allergic to any medications, is he currently taking any medication." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the doctor motioning to someone.

"No," I whisper as I stare at my husband. "Baby it's gonna be okay.

"Mr. Fraser, I'm Doctor Williams can you tell me what's wrong?" It's like speaking to a wall. A wailing wall.

"We may need to sedate him." A syringe appears out of nowhere. He's got a syringe in his hand.

"No, he'll be fine. It's just....caro."

"I'm going to give him 50 mg of diazepam. This will smooth out the edge of the shock so that you can take him home."

I nod reluctantly and he sticks my husband. It has the opposite effect. Benny gets more agitated. In the end, it takes me, and a couple of orderlies to restrain him. The doctor injects enough juice into Benny to do more than smooth the edges. It puts him down. Out.

*********************************************

One of the 'good things' about being on the outs with someone is that when you call them they immediately know it's bad news. You don't have to waste time leading up to it or trying to figure out how to lead up to it. You can cut right to the chase.

"Hello."

"Hello, Francesca." There is a moment of her simply breathing into the phone.

"Is it Ma?"

I wince a little. Despite what's happened between us, I'd like to think that if something happened to Ma, I'd have the decency to tell her face to face. We are still blood, and though that hasn't counted for as much as it should have in the last five years, it should count for something. I need it to count for something now.

"It's not Ma. Benny and I are in Arizona. Stan Kowalski had an accident. He's gone, Francesca." And there's the breathing into the phone again, a little more labored with a little bit of a hitch but she seems to be holding it together.

"Does Ma know?" she whispers into the phone.

"No, not yet. You're the first person I called."

"Really?"

"Really. I need you to tell Ma....Dief, the family. I gotta call Welsh. And I'll need you to do a couple other things."

There's a pause. The moment of truth. Because my sister hasn't done me a favor since my wedding day when she showed up. I didn't think she would. And that was really more of a favor to Ma and maybe to Benny. I know they both talked to her before the ceremony. Maybe she'll look at it as a favor to Stan. I know that she loved him like a brother, like she use to love me.

"Okay Ray, what do you want me to do?"

"Thank you Francesca."

I call Welsh next. Somewhere along the way, we, me and Kowalski's parents have started calling it an accident, the accident. And so I say to Welsh...

"Kowalski's had an accident. He's gone." Like with my sister there is a pause and then Welsh says.

"I thought there was enough respect between us for you not to bullshit me Vecchio."

And then there is the breathing on my end and I tell him the truth. How we came to be in Arizona, not the divorce part, just Benny's concern. How I found Stan Kowalski, not the Benny collapse part. Welsh volunteers to do the rest of the Chicago notifications. I check in with Los Angeles. My officer is unwilling to leave while the boy is still in a coma. A bad idea. It hasn't been put to her as a direct order yet. I can hold off on that for at least a day. A day has made all the difference in the world.

The round of calls done for now, I slip back into my husband's room. There's twitching underneathhis skin, like he's still trying to fight the sedative. I smooth down his hair, run my hands over his cheeks, across his brow, trying to soothe him. Hoping that he can feel me through, the drug. Hoping that he knows we can get through this. Whatever this is. I lean lower and whisper in his ear. "I love you."

The chair in his room is surprisingly comfortable. I fold into it. Almost immediately, I feel the exhaustion. I can't give in to it yet. I want to be awake when Benny wakes up. And... I gotta listen to the tape. Jesus, the way he went down scared me. Nothing in Vegas, nothing in my life scared me like seeing Benny moaning and rocking on the floor. Not even him running after Victoria. Maybe cause in that situation I had some control.

There were mini-cassette tapes in each of the three envelopes I took from Kowalski's car. One for each of his parents and one for Benny. I've asked Kowalski's parents not to mention the tapes to Benny. I'll be the one to tell him, if I tell him.

**"Hey Ben,

If you're listening to this well...you know. Don't get all martyr like. I've been a file marked done for a long time.... I'm okay now. Vecchio will tell ya that it's not your fault. Listen to your old man, he's telling you the truth. I admit I don't think that I really understood why you were so twisted up over his being in Vegas, but he's a good guy. I don't think Stella woulda done what he did. Willin' to drop everything to come with ya to check on a friend. I know Vecchio and I got ties but still, Stella wouldna ....

I tell ya what she would do.. ....I ah God, Ben. I never told anybody this, wasn't going to tell anybody. I ...uh had an affair with Stella. I mean, I dunno what else ya call a week of empty, sheet scorching sex. Stop blushing Ben, you're a married man. Ya know what I'm talkin' about. At least I hope ya know what I'm talking about. And I know ya got that look on your face, but it wasn't like that or it was but I knew. I knew it wasn't about me, I knew that.

It was a little after I had been released, ya know when I was okay enough to go outpatient physical therapy. She was so scared when she came to see me. Jittery scared, she could barely keep still. This was the worst I'd ever been hurt in all the time I've known her. There was something desperate about it. Like even though she didn't want me, she still had to have that reassurance. Yeah, I know it was kinda like pity sex or maybe exactly like pity sex. But she was so beautiful laid out in my bed, it felt so good to have permission to touch her again. I knew when it was happening that it wasn't about us getting back together, I mean what was the Stella gonna do with my gimpy ass.

At first she tried to pretend that it was about me, but she couldn't, not really. I think she saw in my eyes that I knew that and so then she didn't even bother to try. For seven days she couldn't even pretend that she was in my bed for me, to give me something that I needed. It woulda been nice to have felt desired. I've known ya for so much less time and last night...God Ben last night. You're married, you're in love with your husband. But last night with you inside me -"** I almost fall out of the chair. What the hell. I rewind the tape because there is no way that I heard what I think I heard. Fuck. I can't seem to get a goddamned grip on the recorder. And I push the fast forward instead of the rewind. It takes two tries but I get the tape backed up. Taking a deep breath, I push play again.

**"...you're in love with your husband. But last night with you inside me it was better than any of the times with Stella. I know that it wasn't about pity. When I looked in your eyes I knew that it was about me. It's -"**

Goddammit. I am out of Benny's room like someone lit a fire under my ass. I've got to get out. I can't even, I have to take a minute in the hall outside of his room and try to get it together, because if I don't the next person I see is gonna wish they had stayed in bed this morning. I feel like I'm coming apart. My legs are so wobbly I can barely make my way down the hall.

*********************************

Maybe sometimes it's hard to tell if you're in a bad marriage until you get out. I never thought that my husband and I had one, but I'm a cop I have to look at the facts. He wanted to divorce me. I guilted him out of it. He cheated on me. He doesn't do casual sex. Here's a glove, catch a friggin' clue Vecchio. Only Benny wouldn't say friggin'. I've been sitting here in the hospital chapel for about an hour. Thinking, trying not to think, praying, trying not to crawl under this pew. I intended to stay married to Angie for the rest of my life. Hell I vowed to stay married to her for the rest of my life. I had a pretty good idea of who I was even then, but I didn't think that it had to be my entire life. I married Angie because I loved her and she was in love with me. I made a vow.

I know the Church has taken some hits in the last few years and yeah it deserves some of 'em, but when I was growing up the priests and the nuns, those were people I respected. Looked to as examples of how to keep a promise, how to do without something that was only a part of your life. They made a promise to God and I made a promise to my wife in front of God. I figured my deal was a lot easier than their's cause I could have sex. I intended to have a family with Angie and add my own clan to the Vecchio family tree. That's what I was raised to do. That's what I wanted to do.

And that was set in stone, until one night, I was on my way home from the precinct and I stopped at a liquor store to pick up a newspaper. A case I worked on had gotten a write-up. While I waited to pay, a guy walked into the store and I couldn't not look at him. He was wearing Armani. Thick jet black hair, smooth olive skin, solid build. I told myself that it was the suit I was looking at, it was the suit that caught my attention. As I kept watching him, I told myself that he looked like a perp from a wanted poster on the wall at the station. I kept telling myself that while I sat outside of the store waiting for him. I even wrote down his license plate number as I watched him get into a dark blue Mustang and pull away from the curb.

I tailed him right into a gay bar on Halstead. I had heard of this bar, but never been to it. I didn't work that beat. As a matter of fact until that night I had never even been in that neighborhood. I parked on the street and followed him into the bar. It was so crowded, it was easy for me to find cover. Thank God, I surveil people for a living or I probably would have gotten made. And thank God he was meeting someone there or I might have broken my promise to Angie. They got a table and I grabbed a stool at the bar, ordered a club soda. I positioned myself so that I could watch him without getting caught. My fingers suddenly itched to tangle in that dark hair of his, to run my finger over his lips, to hear him moan my name as I stroked him. And I can't even say what it was. Why that night of all the nights of my life I couldn't walk away from that part of myself. Maybe it was just time for me to come clean.

It's not like he was my type. I didn't even know what my type was. And it's not like he was a preview of what my type would be, 'cause he didn't look anything like Benny. I watched him and his partner for half an hour. When my pants started to tent, I knew I had to get out of there.

I just drove. Called my wife and told her that I was running late. I drove and drove around the city. Until I couldn't drive anymore and then I pulled over and cried. Because I had seen my future. Something had come undone in me in the bar. The next time *he*, whoever he was, might not be meeting anyone and I might not have the strength, the will to walk away.

And I didn't want to be that kind of man. A man who wasn't there for his family. Who had a secret life that his wife and kids didn't know about until he got busted by the cousin's sister's wife's friend who saw him some place he shouldn't have been. I asked Angie to take the next day off from work and I called in sick. We had a long, long talk. It broke my heart to break her heart. And even though that guy got something going in me, I didn't hit the bar scene after my divorce. The divorce hurt like hell because I never thought that would happen to me. I couldn't sleep, started threatening perps, beating on perps.... I didn't want one night stands when I was playing het and I didn't want them when I wasn't. I figured I'd be one of those guys that just stayed to himself, one of those uncles that everyone eventually understands what the deal is, but nobody says it out loud. And then on my vacations maybe I would go to West Hollywood or San Francisco or someplace like that so I could at least look without fear of running into anyone that knew me. And then after I retired from the force, after Ma was gone, maybe I would try to find someone to spend my time with.

And then hurricane Benton Fraser blew in from up north. And yeah, I was pissed off at him when we first met, but underneath a voice in my head said, "him." The urge to follow him was overwhelming. And I immediately knew what that meant to me. I covered with bluster and exasperation for as long as I could. There was a lot of confusion, denial I guess in the beginning. I'm glad that I had already given Angie her freedom, because I would have ruined her life to have him.

And so I made another promise, another vow and the difference is this time I don't know how to break it. I don't want to. I don't understand how he could.

B.V., before Vegas, one of the Feds offered some advice on how to swim with the sharks. She said think about the worse thing you've ever done, then imagine that instead of being ashamed of it. You were proud. That every time you thought of it, it made you smile instead of cringe. "That's the key to Langoustini. He's a man that does what he has to do and doesn't look back." That rung a bell in me. Gave me a friggin' Oprah moment. I had to own my crap. I didn't have to think very long or hard about the worst thing I'd ever done. I know I was a little nuts when it happened because I was proud of the decision. In the moment I was proud.

And how could a sane person be proud of shooting their best friend in the back....on purpose. I dropped Benny with precision so he couldn't leave me. I'm not proud of that now, but I'm not as ashamed as I probably should be. That's how I have it for my husband. And back then we hadn't even acknowledged that there were feelings. I was still doing exasperated and inconvenienced and he was doing stoic to the nth degree. We've never really talked about the stuff b.v.

When he asked for the divorce, it paralyzed me until I remembered who we were. And now I have to remember who I am. Own who I am. My husband cheated on me. I always thought that was a deal breaker, it's not. Turns out I'm a fuckin' doormat for those big Canadian boots. Turns out I wear desperation as easily as a tailored suit.

I figure I better stay here in the chapel and listen to the rest of the tape. My fingers don't even shake when I push play again.

**...When she didn't show up the next Monday....that's kinda how it went, she would just show up at my place. I knew that when she didn't show that it was over again. And even though I knew what the deal was from the jump, it kind of fucked me up again, just a little. Ya got that look on your face again don'tcha Ben. I knew that if she ever came to me like that again I'd give her what she wanted, do whatever she wanted. I think it took the very last of whatever I had left to get out of Chicago when I did. Sure the weather and I weren't buddies but I had to get the hell away from the Stella. What you did....what happened between us this time...you erased what she did to me. Thank you Ben. It's been greatness. You're greatness. Be happy. I'm glad one of us got exactly what he wanted. I'll catch ya on the other side Benton Fraser.

I snap off the recorder. When you make a decision about one thing it's amazing how easy certain other things get. If adultery wasn't a deal breaker, then the number of times can't matter either. When Stan said "this time", I didn't even flinch at the implication.

End 4b