I botched the editing on the first post and posted the wrong version the
second time. Almost decided I was being sent a message and wasn't going
to repost. But Gearbox and Anne seemed to see something even in the mess
it was in, so I got brave and came back. See what a difference feedback
can make?
You have Kat to thank/blame. I begged her to write it but she wouldn't.
Thanks for giving me a shove off the cliff. Caroline, your encouragement
and guidance mean the world to me. And MaryAnn, thanks for being such
a nag. It helped.
I know I have no right to mess with these characters, all the magic and
mystery that is due South is owned by Alliance. No money being made here
people, move along.
Please let me know where I have gone wrong and where I have gone right.
Calista Echo
Ray felt the cold wash over him, quickly followed by the now familiar
burning sensation. *God, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this* and then
the bliss washed over him and he floated away from the pain and the cold.
He floated somewhere far away from the tiny room he had inhabited for
God knows how long, to a warm safe cocoon. There he didn't feel the
cold concrete floor beneath him, or the bruised ribs, or the unending
thirst that kept him company when he wasn't floating. He wondered how
Fraser was and took some time to imagine him and Dief deep in white snow,
snowshoeing closer and closer to the cabin. The snow was pure and clean
and he imagined it pulsing through his veins cleaning the junk that now
clogged them. Why do they call it snow he wondered, floating from one
thought to another. Snow is beautiful and pure and this stuff…this
was toxic. He hated the idea of something so ugly raging through his
system and he hated the needle that delivered it…the needle…he
shuddered, he was starting to come down from the high. He felt the cold
concrete beneath him, the squeezing pain in his side and a great need
for water.
No one
was going to think to look for him. He was officially on vacation, officially
off somewhere having a fine old time. It had seemed like a good idea
at the time. Fraser had taken some long denied leave to check on his
father's cabin and then visit his sister and Ray had been deep in a case
that he couldn't leave. When it unexpectedly wrapped up, he had thought
to join Fraser. There was no way to get a hold of him, so he had planned
to head to Toronto, find Maggie and wait for him there. Maybe not the
best plan but a plan. Ray didn't like this much distance between him
and the one human being who made him feel like he belonged somewhere.
He'd finished the paperwork and announced his vacation plans and gone
home to pack. The last thing he remembered before waking up in this room,
was fumbling for his keys as he stood at his front door.
Fraser didn't even know he was missing. Hell, nobody did. He was going
to die in this room, half-naked on this floor, with junk coursing his
veins and nobody was even going to think to look for him. *Whoa Ray,
that's a little heavy on the self-pity, back it up there, use your head*
He tried to think how long he'd been here, but there was no way to keep
track of anything. He thought they came once a day, but time seemed to
have no meaning here. The door would open and the same two guys would
come in. The bigger guy would pull him up by his hair and shove some
food at him, while the other one prepared the syringe. He didn't want
to eat. He didn't want to do anything that fell in with their plans,
but the first time he refused they had held his head and pried his mouth
open.
"Hey Del, Our baby wants to play where's the airplane."
"Let's oblige him Pete." The one named Del shoved the food
in his mouth and clamped it shut. Ray thought he was going to buy it
right then. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't chew, he couldn't swallow.
Eventually they noticed his face turning blue and let go. Food spew everywhere.
Del lifted him up and propped him against the wall, while Pete slammed
his fist into Ray's tender left side. Once, Twice, Three times. After
Ray slid down the wall and collapsed in a heap, Del scraped up the stew
into the bowl and handed it back to Ray. He said, "I really wouldn't
play with my food if I were you." After that, Ray ate whatever they
brought.
He only had a week's vacation. Welsh would miss him; Welsh would be
missing him so much he'd be spitting nails. They'd go to the apartment,
they'd see he'd never left…and then what? Where was he? Who had
done this? He'd quickly learned to quit asking, as the only answer he
ever got was another kick in the ribs. If only he weren't so cold or
he could breathe a little easier, maybe he'd be able to get an angle
on this. Why would anyone bother with him? Why waste expensive heroin
getting him addicted? Because by now, as hard as he had fought against
it, he needed it.
That was the worst. Knowing that even if someone (Fraser!) did find him,
they'd find him like this. Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski reduced
to a filthy, shivering, half-naked, pathetic junkie. Maybe it was better
this way. Better to be alone and to stay lost. Oh, Fraser and Welsh and
all of them would be concerned, but in their eyes he'd see that he was
no longer one of them. He was now one of those. There was too much separation
and loss in his life already, he didn't think he could bear it if they
saw him and backed away. He felt his tears on his cheeks and knew it
was just the aftermath of the high, the adrenaline seeping away. He was
shivering almost convulsively now and he curled himself into an even
tighter ball in the forlorn hope of getting warmer.
He wondered if Fraser was cold up north. Ray imagined himself cold because
the wind was strong and the snow deep, not because the floor was hard
and concrete and he had on only his jeans. Hmmm. That was better. He
could endure the kind of cold Fraser had grown up in. It made them share
a certain camaraderie, being cold in the same way.
Fraser was frantic. He'd come back from his vacation with the knowledge
that his northern sanctuary no longer fed his soul and that it was due
south that now claimed him. He'd come back 4 weeks ago to find out no
one knew where Ray was. Fraser had checked his apartment and found clothes
half packed. Ray's car was still in the back. At the 27th, they'd had
no idea Ray had never left on his vacation. Immediately an APB was put
out, and Huey and Dewey took charge of an official investigation. But
they were no closer now to finding Ray than when they started.
At first Fraser had refused to contemplate any real harm coming to Ray.
He canvassed the apartment building, starting with Mrs. Scylla, asking
at each door, "Did you see or hear anything unusual on the night
of September 23? Had anyone suspicious been seen around the apartment
building that day?" They all had the same answers. They'd already
told the police officers all this and they hadn't seen or heard anything.
Fraser knew the 27th precinct would be ahead of him but he hoped his
skills would turn up something they had missed and give him a direction
to go in. He trudged on, checking the next building, the alley, the roof…
* Oh Ray, where can you be? What kind of trouble could have come looking
for you? * Ray was cautious except when following Fraser into one scrape
or another. He'd heard the case had wrapped up smoothly. There simply
didn't seem to be any reason for harm to come to Ray... But now after
4 long weeks, despair had settled in his heart. Wherever Ray was, he
was alone, and knowing Ray as well as he did, he minded that most of
all. If only he had been here, this wouldn't have happened. Whatever
this was. Or if it had to happen, he would have been with Ray and they
would have faced the danger together, as they always did. He hated the
thought of Ray hurt. Alone. Abandoned. Not dead. Not dead.
"Constable?" Inspector Thatcher's voice came to him from a
long way off. Constable!" Closer this time and Fraser looked up
to see the Inspector a few feet away frowning at him. * He's lost weight
and I doubt he's slept more than 2 hours a night in the last 4 weeks.
Damn that Kowalski getting himself into some kind of trouble again. *
"Constable, I want you to sit down and eat the dinner Constable
Turnball made for you." She said it her most commanding voice hoping
she could get through Fraser's weary fog.
"Hmmm, yes, all right." Fraser answered as he walked by her
and out of the consulate, Dief by his side.
Maybe if he systematically sectioned Ray's neighborhood and walked all
of the streets he might find some kind of clue…hint…feeling
of where Ray might be. He had spent the last week researching both Rays'
files. He'd followed up on every possible criminal that might hold a
grudge. He'd checked his High School records. He'd talked to Stella until
he thought he could diagram and dissect the life Ray had led since he
was 13 years old. He felt a little funny digging into Ray's life like
that, learning it second hand. As though he had rummaged through the
closets of Ray's life. He wouldn't have given it a second thought if
it had brought him closer to whom had taken Ray. He knew logically it
was hopeless to canvass the neighborhood on foot and yet he couldn't
afford to give up hope, unless he wanted to curl up and die right now.
And some part of him wanted to do that very thing. He was so weary and
there was nothing to go on. No, he could do that later. First he would
walk the streets with Dief and keep hoping. He knew Ray would not have
given up on him. He knew Ray was counting on him. Sometimes the regard
he saw in Ray's eyes was too much to bear. The responsibility to remain
capable and calm, clear headed…when all he really wanted to do was
pull Ray close to him and never let go. But that was not the person Fraser
saw reflected in Ray's eyes and so he never dared.
For a change Dief trotted by his side without a word of complaint. Fraser
could tell he too was worried by the very focused way he sniffed the
ground and the air. Fraser tracked their progress on his map and methodically
checked off each street and section they covered. He really didn't care
if this was absurd. He was just grateful he had found a reason, any reason,
to keep moving, to keep heading back to Ray.
As he walked the rain-slicked streets, he wondered just when Ray had
moved from the position in front of him of partner to the position inside
him of partner. When had Ray gotten past all his well-engineered battlements,
each armed with a polite Canadian smile and an Inuit story? When he was
with Ray there was electricity in every moment, the air charged with
Ray's tensile energy. He had come to believe that Ray was his air and
without Ray in his life he would slowly suffocate if forced to exist
on standard issue oxygen.
He marveled daily that Stella could walk away from that, live without
that. She more than anyone had had the delight of Ray's company, humor,
bravery, and comfort. He badly wanted all of that for himself right now,
and feared he'd never get to bask in Ray's attention again. Never see
the quick smile light up the blond's face as Fraser walked through his
door. He tried to think back through his life and he realized that no
one had ever taken such delight in him. Not in his deeds, or arrests,
or correct answers but simply in him.
But as the dawn edged up on the streets of Chicago once again , he was
no closer to finding Ray and very close to collapse. He dragged himself
back to Ray's apartment, as he could not face Inspector Thatcher's version
of solicitude. He fed Dief and rummaged around in Ray's kitchen, eventually
finding some crackers and peanut butter. Then he fell into Ray's bed.
He could smell faint traces of Ray. The smell of Ray just out of the
shower. Clean soap and some darker richer smell that was as indefinable
as Ray himself. He fell asleep trying to name that smell and slept hard
and deep.
Fraser woke up, startled out of a dream. He had been up north and it
had been snowing, a bitter wind relentlessly sweeping across the flat
earth. Ray was there, ahead. Fraser couldn't understand it. This was
his landscape, his territory, how did Ray keep getting ahead of him?
He put on a burst of speed and yet got no closer. And then he tripped
and he felt himself falling, falling…He tried to grab hold of anything
that would slow his downward descent. There was nothing, nothing to hold…hold,
hold on Ray…just hold on until I find you. I will find you.
He had hated giving up the time to sleep but knew he would be less effective
if he hadn't gotten some rest. He took a quick shower hoping he would
feel magically restored by the hot water. It didn't happen. As he came
out of the bathroom, he half expected to hear Ray's voice saying, "Pitter,
Patter, Frase." He walked over and hit the play button on Ray's
CD player. A woman's voice, singing some melancholic lament wafted from
the speakers. Fraser wondered what kind of mood Ray had been in as he
listened to this song. He knew it amplified his longing to see Ray's
face lit with mischief, challenging Fraser to get in on the joke.
Dief made a rumbling noise and Fraser responded, "Yes, it is breakfast
time. I'm sure Ray has something you would find edible." Fraser
rummaged through Ray's cabinet and was surprised to find actual dog food
tucked behind the cereal. He poured out a bowl of one for Dief and a
bowl of the other for himself. "Pitter, Patter Dief." Fraser
collected his leather jacket and map and headed out. "First stop,
the precinct."
Although it was early on a Sunday morning, Welsh was already at his desk
and had clearly been there all night. He looked up when he saw Fraser
in the open door. *Geez, Fraser looks as done in as I feel.*
" Leftenant, has there been any news?"
"Constable Fraser. Good. I'm glad you stopped in. We haven't got
anything solid, but some rumors have been cropping up."
"Rumors Sir?"
"Yeah, whispers that Vecchio had a problem."
"A problem, sir?"
""Could you please not do that?'
"Sir? Do what?"
"Repeat every last thing I'm saying here."
"Understood."
" I'm hearing Vecchio had developed a taste for illegal substances."
Fraser frowned and an angry flush swept over his face. "Sir? Who
is saying this? You know there is not an iota of truth in this rumor."
"Yeah, well, I'm inclined to dismiss it too but he had been jumpy
since you left town and he tends to keep to himself."
"Sir, I've never known Ray to not be "jumpy." It seems
to be an integral part of his make-up. There is simply no way Ray would
suddenly turn to drugs…."
"You have a thought Constable?"
"Well, no, I just wondered…well, you know how sensitive Ray
can be……"
"Spit it out Constable."
"Sir, I was just wondering how the case he was working out ended?"
"Oh that, totally routine. No trauma, no dramatics, just a nice
clean case against an embezzler."
Fraser looked relieved. Not that he actually thought that Ray would react
to a difficult case by taking drugs, but perhaps the rumors were related
to the case? Someone trying to discredit Ray? No, it had ended routinely.
"So who is making these false allegations?"
Welsh shrugged. "Ah, you know how this goes, a lot of innuendo and
wink wink, nudge nudge stuff from the lowlife…No one credible has
come forward."
Fraser looked deep in thought. "This makes no sense, sir."
"I'm with you there, Constable. This whole thing stinks." Welsh
put his head in his hands and sighed.
"Leftenant, don't you think you should go home and get some rest?
Running yourself into the ground isn't going to do Ray any good."
Welsh turned a haggard face toward Fraser. "When did this happen?
When did that guy with the experimental hair become this important to
me? Don't get me wrong, all my men are important to me, but Ray…"his
voice trailed off.
"I understand sir, I've seen the rapport you two have and the affection
that Ray has for you. He is very hard to resist." Fraser blushed.
That wasn't exactly how he meant to put that.
Welsh noted Fraser's blush and smiled. "That he is, Constable, that
he is."
Ray could hear them coming. He was afraid. Afraid of how much he wanted
them to come through that door. Afraid of whom he had become in such
a short amount of time. This hungry, needy junkie, who didn't even care
anymore about needles. Recently (he hasn't got any real sense of time,
you said.) they had made him shoot up. He hadn't wanted to do it, had
resisted becoming the instrument of his own destruction. But they simply
waited him out and when the pain got so bad that he would do anything,
they had handed him the needle. And he'd taken it. Hell, a couple of
times, he'd begged for it. The cold and the sweats and the shakes were
the least of it. It was if the absence of the drug acted as an amplifier
in his head, swelling the sense of loneliness and failure that had dogged
him his whole life.
He knew it wasn't just the pain of needing the drug that drove him
to accept the needle. Or the pain in his side, or the cold. It was the
pain of being the kind of loser that got himself in this kind of mess.
It was the pain of letting Fraser down. It was the pain of seeing Fraser
again…It was the pain of never seeing Fraser again…Oh he sucked.
This sucked. And this was all that was left.
Ray woke up with a start. He tried to prop himself up against the wall.
He hadn't heard them coming. This was happening more often. He couldn't
seem to stay awake. There wasn't much reason to stay awake. Now he knew
what a truly terrible punishment solitary confinement was.
He had started having conversations with the people he cared about
and they answered back. The ones with Frannie tended to degenerate into
sibling squabbling and he found he missed her word approximations more
than he would have thought he could.
When he imagined Welsh, they often discussed the Cubs and he felt a
sadness that he never felt the same warmth and acceptance in his father's
presence. They could talk cars and sometimes Ray imagined there was some
hidden message in all the talk about dual cams and spark plugs. Some
kinda guy code that had his father really saying I like who you are.
You're all right in my book. But it had never really felt like that.
It had felt like the car talk was just that. Car talk.
His father. Oh, man, if he got out of this alive his old man would turn
his back on him for sure. Isn't this exactly what he had foretold? The
stink of the criminal permeating his son. And it did stink. Ray realized
he stank. It was the least of his complaints.
He spent the most time talking to Fraser. He regretted that in all their
time together he had never really told Ben what it meant to him to be
partners, to have him as his friend. There had never been anyone in
his life like Fraser. Stella and her friends had filled his life. He
knew none of her friends ever understood what she saw in him and barely
tolerated his presence. Eventually even Stella merely tolerated his presence.
Hell, he wasn't at all sure his own father did more than tolerate his
presence.
Fraser actually seemed to like being with him. He would see Fraser smile
at him, and he would have to fight the urge to look behind him to see
whom Fraser was smiling at. Ah, he knew he was just Vechhio's stand-in
and it couldn't last, but sometimes it felt like it would last. It felt
right and strong and real.
He thought about the bracelet he'd seen kids wearing these days. The
one that had the initials WWJD on it. What would Jesus do. He needed
a bracelet like that only one that said WWFD. What would Fraser do? What
would Fraser do to keep from going crazy? He'd probably conjure up a
Beethoven symphony and play it in his head. That wouldn't work. He started
to take the GTO's engine apart, starting with the transmission.
He was unprepared when Del grabbed Ray and hauled him to his feet. He'd
been deep into the carburator. He stumbled and would have gone down but
for Del's arm around his chest.
Ray could hear the water running. He stood there, naked and shivering,
wondering what the hell was going on. A cramp doubled him over and he
squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the pain.* I need a fix. I need
it bad.* He clamped his mouth shut. He wasn't going to break down again
and beg them for a hit. He could hold out. He would hold out.
Del shoved him into the shower and handed him soap. "Be sure to
scrub behind your ears."
The hot water felt like tiny needles hitting his sensitive skin and
he gritted his teeth. It took just a moment to turn to pleasure as the
heat soaked into his cold and parched body. He didn't know why he was
getting this shower or how long they'd let him stay in but he was going
to make the most of this. He quickly scrubbed at the grit and dirt. He
used the bar of soap to wash his hair and sighed deeply. He didn't know
if he was glad to feel this much more human or not. *Don't think like
that. You've been in tough places before. You'll find your way outta
this one.* He shivered, despite the hot water. The truth was he didn't
know if he could find his way out of this. The need he felt building
up inside him was frightening in its intensity. It was like a voracious
hunger blotting out anything else that fed him. *Fraser. Fraser filled
the hunger but Fraser wasn't here. *
"Hey pussycat, we ain't got all day for your beauty routine. Let's
get the lead out." Del reached in and turned the water to cold.
Ray stumbled out into Pete's beefy hands.
"Here, dry yourself off." Pete shoved the towel into Ray's
hands. Del handed him a T-shirt and some jeans. They weren't what he
had come in wearing but they fit well enough and he put them on.
They led Ray back to his room. After the shower Ray had felt a surge
of energy, but as they neared the door he felt sick to his stomach and
he started to pitch forward. Del hauled him to his feet and shoved him
inside. He slammed into the opposite wall and for a moment everything
went black.
When he opened his eyes he could see Pete unpacking the syringe and vial
and starting the cooking process. He brought out the spoon and the compact
burner.
"One for the road, Vechhio."
* Ah, geez, they're setting me up to look like an addict and then they're
going to off me. Shit. * That's why there had been no punches to
the face. And even the bruises on his ribs had started to fade. Everyone
would think he'd had a secret addiction all along and had gone off on
a binge and O.D.'d. Stella would believe that. She seemed determined
to think the worst of him these days. But Fraser…Fraser wouldn't
fall for that. What did it matter what anyone thought? He'd be dead.
He realized that what Stella thought of him had stopped mattering to
him awhile back and he hadn't noticed. While how Fraser saw him mattered
a great deal. That insight sent a small shiver through him. What would
Fraser think about the Ray he was destined to come across in the morgue?
The tracks on his arms would give testimony to what caused his death.
And Fraser was a logical man. What other explanation would serve? Ray
felt desperate. They were coming to the end of the game and it was clearly
their side 12, Ray's, zip.
Pete was handing him the syringe. "C'mon ,cupcake, you know the
drill." Ray reached out, but Pete dodged away. "Whadya say?
Let's hear it." Ray squeezed his eyes shut. He felt dizzy and sick
and he just wanted to get this over with.
"Please."
"Ah, you can do better than that sweetums."
Ray reached out again, "Pretty please." It was hard to get
any words past the burning in his throat and it came out more as a gasp.
"Pretty please? That's all you can say?" Pete nudged him with
his foot. "C'mon, give me a kiss and I'll give you the candy."
He leaned down to take Ray's face in his hands. Ray leaned forward but
instead of meeting Pete's lips,he grabbed his legs and yanked them out
from under him. Pete yelled but Del had not yet come through the door.
Ray used his last reserve of strength to take hold of Pete's balls and
squeeze as hard as he could. It had the desired affect. Pete yowled in
pain and kicked out. The kick connected with Ray's face and once again
lights were out.
"Fuck Pete, you weren't supposed to mark him."
"What was I supposed to do, let him get away? No one's gonna think
anything about a junkie that's gotten jumped."
"I dunno, Pete, Landry was really clear about how he wanted Vecchio
found."
" Screw Landry, I'm fucking sick of him and babysitting this guy.
I'm glad we're almost outta here. Haul him out and let's dump him."
"Yeah, alright, but first get the last hit in him."
Ray had heard bits and pieces as he swam to the top of consciousness.
*Landry? Who the hell was Landry?* He could feel the blood streaming
from his nose, which he figured was broken, once again. He felt a small
jolt of jubilation that he had succeeded in getting Pete to blow his
cool and leave evidence. It was worth the added pain. Besides, he knew
that once he got a fix he'd be feeling no pain, probably forever. He
was vaguely aware of the needle entering his arm and then all was quiet.
Landry was royally pissed. "I gave you explicit instructions. You
idiots. No marking him after the first two weeks. I wanted him outta
here and on the street looking good. Well as good as that skinny rat
could look. And instead, whadya do? Leave a boot print on the fuck's
head!"
Del and Pete both backed up at their boss' entrance. "Look Mar,
they'll just think he got roughed up in the street. Bad drug deal or
somethin'. No one's gonna put two and two together."
Mars increased his pacing. He'd given this a lot of thought. He'd considered
simply killing Vecchio, framing him for a crime, injecting him with HIV.
But in the end he'd gone biblical and settled on an eye for an eye. He
would give Vecchio the exact life Clarice had.
"I wanted Vecchio on the street looking to all the world like he's
been on one hell of a bender. I did not want any speculation about how
he got there. I wanted him good and hooked and looking for his next fix,
not in some damn hospital getting his nose straightened and put on methadone!"
Landry paced the small room. Damn, this plan had looked so good on paper.
Clarice deserved to see this guy strung out, begging for dope and kicked
off the force. Well, it could still work and if it didn't, there was
always plan B.
He reached down and grabbed Ray's hair and yanked his head up. He slapped
Ray hard. No response. He lifted an eyelid. "What the hell was in
that last batch? Ya didn't OD him didja? Get him outta here now. Dump
him in an alley in his neighborhood. Do it quietly! You hear me on this?
I don't want you getting any attention!"
"Yeah Mar, we got it. We'll get the job done."
Landry watched as they lifted and dragged Vecchio out to the van. He
knew nothing was going to give him back the Clarice he once loved, but
he was a man of action and it felt good to visit some of Clarice's suffering
on the pig. The pig who had won and broken Clarice's heart. Who had turned
her from a loving, vital woman into the shell she was now.
Marcy was dead tired. It had been a long day. A good day though. She'd
found a perfectly useable coat that would come in mighty handy as the
winter came on, even if it was an unfortunate shade of puce. She paused.
Where did that come from? How did she know it was puce? She shook her
head. My but she surprised herself sometimes. She continued down the
alley, keeping her eyes open for change and trouble. At the end of the
alley she saw cardboard boxes. Her eyes gleamed. This was good whether
she found something in them or not. Cardboard was an excellent insulator.
It was getting dark and she found herself stumbling over something in
the dim light. It moaned and Marcy jumped back. Drat. The cardboard was
spoken for. She heard the moan again and drew in to look closer. She
knelt down and saw that it was a man. A man with blood all over him.
There was something familiar about this guy, even if she could barely
make out his features in the twilight.
"Hey. Hey you." She poked him. He had stopped moaning, but
she see he was still breathing. She took her sleeve and wiped at the
blood on his face. He was familiar. He was that guy… that guy who
had stopped to talk to her this summer, when she'd fed her donut to the
dog that was with him. * That was a great dog. I wonder where that dog
is? I hope the dog is okay. * She remembered he'd bought her a bag of
donuts, saying…hmmm what'd he say? Something about her being a fellow
soft touch and how they had to stick together. And now here he was. Too
bad. She gathered up some newspapers and covered him. "There, there,
duckie. You'll feel better in the morning." She moved on down the
alley, back to wondering how she knew what puce was. She wanted to get
back to her corner before it was truly night. She wrapped her coat around
herself, glad she had it. She was almost to her safe spot when she saw
the dog.
Wow. The man, the dog. Another man with the dog. She wished she had a
donut to give him. She searched her pockets. Ah, a half of Oreo. She
approached the man and dog with her hand outstretched. The dog sniffed
at her and then sent up a howl. The man, who had been distracted, froze
and looked at her.
"It's only a cookie, for cryin' out loud. I know he likes treats.
Why is he making that sound?" Marcy asked.
Fraser was baffled. Dief never howled at food, never hesitated for a
moment to take food. "You know my dog, ma'am?"
"Sure, met him with that other fella, the one in the alley back
there. I met them when it was warm and we ate donuts together,"
Fraser immediately knew she meant Ray and that she had seen Ray in an
alley somewhere around here. It explained Dief's reaction. He'd scented
Ray on her.
"Show me where you saw him," he pleaded.
"Oh it's my bedtime dearie, I can't go all the way back there."
"Where is there?" Fraser had no faith that she would be able
to pinpoint the location.
"He's in the alley in back of Ted's bar. You know, on 10th street."
Dief raced down the alley with Fraser right behind. 50 feet in, Dief
leaped over a pile of boxes and refuse, barking excitedly. Fraser cleared
boxes away and fear washed through him. It was Ray, but a Ray he hardly
recognized. The blond looked small and broken. There was blood from a
gash on his face and his nose appeared broken, with both eyes blackened.
There was blood on his T-shirt. It was no more than 40 degrees out and
Fraser quickly covered him with his jacket. As he did he couldn't help
but notice the mottled bruises up and down Ray's arms and on closer inspection,
the needle marks. "Oh, Ray, who did this to you?"
Ray was dreaming. It was cold and the snow was deep. He moved doggedly
onwards although he had lost sight of Fraser hours ago. Every muscle
ached and he feared the cold would freeze his heart and it would stop.
He placed his cold hands over his heart and pushed in and out as if giving
himself CPR. He was afraid. He didn't want his heart to stop. Fraser
lived in there.* Where would Fraser go if my heart stopped? ….Back
to the real Vecchio's , dummy. Oh, yeah. He'd be going back there eventually
anyway.* Fraser'd be alright. Ray took his hands away from his heart,
no longer afraid. He was tired and he wasn't so cold anymore. He was
so very tired. He'd just lay down here and take a little nap.
Fraser could feel Ray's life-force ebbing away "Ray!… Ray!
…..Ray!" In desperation he shook his friend, afraid he might
break him in this fragile state.
"Whaa…" Ray's eyes fluttered open and he looked at Fraser.
"You… alright …Frase? You look ….terrible."
"Oh God Ray," Ray's eyes fluttered back down, "Stay with
me Ray! Come on Ray." Fraser pulled Ray even closer to his chest,
hoping to transfer heat and energy into his partner's still form.
Fraser felt for a pulse, aghast at how delicate Ray's wrist felt under
his fingers. He could feel a rapid thready pulse that was only a little
reassuring. He leaned over Ray, gently rocking him and pressed his face
against Ray's hair. "Please Ray, please Ray, please Ray, don't go.
I just found you. Don't go." He looked around frantically. He had
to get help. There was no one who would hear him yell. He started to
gently set Ray down, when he realized he could not bring himself to do
it. He couldn't leave Ray lying here alone. He had no idea how extensive
Ray's injuries were. He was afraid moving him would bring more harm.
He had to. He wrapped his jacket around Ray a little tighter and cradled
him in his arms lurching to his feet. Ray felt alarmingly light. He didn't
know if breaking into a run would cause greater damage, but clearly Ray
needed help right now.
Ray could see Fraser, a dark silhouette against the stark white of the
snow. "Frase! Hold up!" Ray felt more panic now that he had
caught sight of Fraser than before when he couldn't see him at all. He
hadn't realized how alone he felt in the vast cold plains. Now that Fraser
had appeared on his horizon he felt elated, comforted, driven to connect
to the oasis of humanity that was Fraser. But Fraser wasn't slowing down,
he didn't seem to hear him and Ray's voice was raw from shouting his
name over and over. *What does it take to get his attention? What if
he heard me and didn't want to come back? Maybe it's too far too come
back.* Ray felt himself sinking deeper into the snow with each step.
The exhaustion he had just barely managed to keep at bay was overcoming
his great need to catch up to Fraser. He pitched forward into the snow
and let the cold sink into his bones.
Fraser watched through the glass in the door as the ER people swarmed
around Ray, trying to bring him back to life.
"Bring him back, bring him back," Fraser chanted inside his
head. It was unbearable to see Ray laid out on the gurney, his naked
chest bluish, his arms limp at his side.
Fraser wrenched himself away from the window and slumped against the
wall. He crossed his arms and hugged himself, trying to stop the shaking
that was wracking his body. He had been so close to getting Ray back.
He'd held Ray close and heard his voice say his name. He hadn't realized
how terrified he'd been that he would never hear Ray call his name again.
"Fraser, how's Ray doing?" Frannie was gently shaking his arm.
Fraser immediately pulled himself upright and turned to her. Lieutenant
Welsh was talking to a nurse nearby.
"Not well, Francesca. I don't know if I found him in time. He regained
consciousness briefly but then…" something close to a sob escaped
him and he found himself hugging Frannie and crying helplessly. He heard
her murmuring half sentences about Ray being strong and he tried to take
comfort in her touch and her words, but the tears would not stop
. He felt Lieutenant Welsh arm around his shoulder and heard him say,
"Constable, they've stabilized him. He's all right for the moment."
Fraser's knees threatened to give out and he held on to Frannie both
in relief and because he was afraid if he let go he'd fall to the floor.
"Ya done good, Constable. He'll pull through. We'll make sure he
pulls through." Lieutenant Welsh clapped a hand on Fraser's back,
noting the darkness under his eyes and in his eyes and pulled the younger
man into his arms. "Ray is damn lucky to have you as his friend."
Fraser allowed himself to relax into the bluff man's embrace and to take
comfort in the Lieutenant's confidence.
"Thank you sir, but he's going to need a lot more than what I have
to offer to get him through this."
"Well, he'll have all we have to give."
"Sir, did the nurse tell you Ray seems to be high on drugs, that
they think he is an addict?
" Don't worry, we'll get this straightened out."
Fraser let his breath out. It had been so hard to watch the callous way
the Emergency personnel handled Ray. More than once he had wanted to
smack their hands away and do what needed to be done. He'd seen the
look in their eyes and hoped that by the time Ray came to, they would
have softened their attitude. He was worried that Ray would see their
contempt and assume those who knew him shared it. Or worse, that he deserved
it.
"Until we know who did this to him and why, we're putting Ray in
here under an assumed name. He's been admitted as Stanley Welsh."
Fraser raised an eyebrow and Welsh said, "Yeah, I'm telling them
he's my son. It seemed the safest way to handle this."
Fraser returned to the window and looked in. The tension had eased and
they had an IV line hooked up. Fraser was torn by the need to be by Ray's
side and a rage that was building at the person who had done this.
Lieutenant Welsh stood next to him. "He's a tough son-of-a-bi,
ah," Welsh stopped himself and then resumed, " excuse the phrase…he's
tough, he'll pull through." Fraser could hear the underlying worry
in Welsh's voice. Fraser could only nod in agreement.
Ray was in a field of white. It was cold and the sun shone with a
hard brightness. His eyes ached and he tried to shield them from the
light but it was too intense to hide from. He opened his eyes a slit.
He could see a dark shape in front of him, blurry around the edges. He
reached out. "Fraser?" he croaked, "Dat you Frase?"
"Shhh, lie still now."
That was Fraser, Fraser'd come back! Ray sank back into the white, a
broad smile on his face. " Benton- buddy…. I thought….
I lost you, I thought …I'd never catch up."
"It's all right Ray, everything is going to be all right."
Ray opened his eyes a little wider. The light seemed to burn all the
details away. He still could not make out Fraser's face, couldn't tell
if Fraser was glad to see him. He struggled to sit up, hoping that everything
would come into focus. A hand held him down.
"Frase?…I'm… cold." He was starting to shiver violently.
"Can we… get out… of here?"
"No Ray, I'm afraid we are going to be here for quite some time."
Fraser's voice was fading. Ray reached out to grab onto Fraser but Fraser
had moved away again. Ray looked around in panic. He knew he had lousy
eyes, but now he felt close to blind, except instead of being dark, it
was all shimmering light.
"FRASER!" Ray tried to scream the name but knew it had come
out a whisper. *Ah, shit, he's leaving him again, leaving me in the cold
and the light. Don't go, don't go.* Had he said that out loud? Would
it do any good if he had?
The doctor looked much too young to know anything about heroin and its
effects and much too young to have the compassion that should come with
that knowledge. But he was the one approaching them from Ray's room so
one had to assume he knew something.
" Lieutenant Welsh? I see here that you are Stanley's father. I'm
Doctor Sorbel. I'd like a word with you if I may." Welsh snorted
at the polite measured words.
"Yeah, spill. Tell me what's happening to my… son." The
doctor took note of the hesitation.
"Well, ah, Stanley is recovering from shooting some tainted Heroin,
sometime in the last 6 hours. He is also suffering from malnutrition
and dehydration. He has 3 partially healed broken ribs, a recently broken
nose and a concussion. He'll be moved to a room soon but I wouldn't expect
him to regain consciousness for another few hours."
"So bottom line, he's gonna be ok?"
Dr Sorbel looked pained at being forced to cut to the chase. "Well,
ah, yes, he should recover from his physical injuries just fine."
He paused, looking down at his chart, "but his drug problem …
that's something else. Addicts lead a rather rough life."
Welsh stepped in close to the doctor, "My son is not an addict,
Doctor. Get that straight right now." "Whatever state he is
in was done to him!" Dr. Sorbel had seen a lot of parents in denial
about their kid's drug habits but that statement had to take the prize.
He shook his head. "Addicts will blame everyone but themselves for
their addiction but it's very important that we don't get caught up their
fantasies and paranoias. They make their own choices."
"Listen, Doc. My son got in over his head. He did not choose to
become an addict." He poked his finger in the doctor's chest for
emphasis and stared the doctor down.
Fraser watched the doctor gulp and step hastily back, secretly pleased
at Welsh's authoritative response. He knew the doctor was simply calling
it as he saw it, but he had seen the judgement in every pair of eyes
that had treated Ray and it made the simmering rage he felt at the perpetrator
of this crime grow in intensity.
As Fraser made his way to Ray's room he pondered the underlying mystery
of who had taken Ray and done this to him. Dr. Sorbel had indicated that
the blond was not suffering from an overdose, just a bad hit of heroin.
That seemed to indicate they wanted Ray found addicted…. Knowing
how most departments would view that kind of transgression, it was a
particularly twisted kind of revenge. It indicated a level of hatred
for Ray that Fraser had a hard time comprehending. Oh, Ray often threatened
to kick a suspect in the head but nowhere in his file was there any indication
of actual brutality. And while it was true Ray had made quite a few arrests
in his career, it was hard to believe anyone would take it to such a
personal level.
Fraser entered Ray's room and saw the nurse adjusting the IV. She looked
over at him. "He'll be out of it for quite awhile. You can come
back in the morning and question him."
She was assuming he was here in an official police capacity. Fraser moved
to the bed and placed his hand tenderly on Ray's forehead. "No,
I believe I will stay." He looked up at her with challenge in his
eyes.
She had the awareness to look abashed and said, "Hit the call button
if he stirs or needs anything."
Fraser took off his leather jacket and pulled a chair up to the bed.
He felt intense relief that he was finally able to lay his hands on Ray
and hear him breathe. The blond looked better. There was a distinct lack
of color, but that was an improvement over the grey that had been there
before. Fraser took one of Ray's hands in his own and held it, watching
his partner's chest rise and fall with a comforting regularity. He heard
Welsh and Francesca come in and stand behind him. Welsh spoke first.
"He's looking better."
Frannie came around the other side of the bed and laid her hand on Ray's
cheek. "If this is better, Id hate to see worse. He looks like he
hasn't eaten in a week." Frannie leaned over and kissed him on his
cheek. "My God, bro, my heart can't take this. One brother undercover
and one in the hospital. Do a girl a favor and stop doing this kind of
thing."
Fraser looked at her with narrowed eyes, wondering if it was possible
she thought Ray was actually an addict.
"He didn't "do this kind of thing," Francesca."
Fraser's voice betrayed the anger he felt that she might actually believe
that.
"Oh Fraser, no, no, I know he didn't do this." Frannie took
a shaky breath, surprised by Fraser's reaction. " I meant he's always
getting into some kind of scrape or another, that's all."
Fraser visibly relaxed and put a hand to his head. "I know Francesca,
please excuse my snapping at you like that."
Welsh broke in, "Constable you're exhausted. Go home and get some
rest. Ray won't be coming to for awhile. I'll stay here and keep watch."
Fraser knew he would never be able to sleep if he left Ray's side.
"No sir, I want to stay. I need to stay. You and Francesca go home
and come back tomorrow. Mrs. Vecchio will be anxious to hear all the
news."
Welsh knew he wasn't going to change the Mountie's mind. He reached over
and squeezed Ray's hand, collected Frannie and headed home. It would
be the first real night's sleep in the 6 weeks that Ray had been missing.
Fraser sat back down in the chair. He watched Ray, marvelling that
the blond was here and had survived. He knew it was sheer luck and the
grace of God that he had found him in time and he began shaking as he
contemplated finding Ray too late, the breath truly gone from his body.
He laid his head down next to his partner's body and held onto his hand.
Fraser slept.
Fraser's body jerked as his hands found a ledge to latch onto. He
could work with this. He could work himself back up, he was sure of it.
He wished Dief were here. Not that the wolf could help but he'd like
some company about now. He gave an experimental yell, "HELLOOO,
anyone up there? Ray? Can you hear me?" No. About what he'd expected.
He began the laborious task of inching himself up the steep slope. When
he regained the ridge he scanned the horizon in all directions. There.
Ahead. Ray. He's finally stopped moving. Fraser headed in his direction,
every once in awhile yelling Ray's name. Ray didn't seem to hear him.
That was odd. Out here sound traveled for miles. Ray's eyes were bad
but his hearing had never been in question. Finally Fraser reached Ray
and spun him around. "Ray!"
Fraser woke to the touch of a hand on his hair. He lifted his head.
"Ray?" Ray's eyes were closed but at the sound of Fraser's
voice he opened them and smiled weakly, "Yah, Frase… I'm here."
Fraser looked at him closely. His color had improved even more. "How
are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck… Did I? Did I get hit by a truck?"
Ray asked hopefully.
"You don't know what happened to you Ray?" Fraser was afraid
brain damage might be indicated.
"Yeah, I remember. Just hoping maybe it was all a bad dream."
Ray looked down at his arms. The tracks stood out in sharp contrast to
his pale thin arms. He closed his eyes. He felt much too tired to cope
with his jumbled feelings. He had awakened feeling Fraser's arm slung
across his chest. It was a welcome weight. He wished it were still in
place, anchoring him, because right now he felt a powerful restlessness
building inside him. It scared him. He knew what it was. Fraser would
see this in no time.
"Fraser, you look like hell." He could see from here the slight
trembling in the Mountie's hands. Must be low blood sugar. "You
need to get some breakfast and some sleep."
"I need to find out what happened Ray. We need to find the person
who did this to you. What do you remember?" Fraser hoped by concentrating
on facts he would be able to slow his racing heart. It was such a relief
to hear the strength returning to Ray's voice and to see him smile, even
if it was fleeting and tentative.
Ah jeez, Frase was on a mission. He had to get him out of here.
"Fraser, can we do this a little later? I'm really not up to talking
about this right now. You need breakfast, a hot shower and sleep buddy.
And Dief will be itching for his walk." At the sound of his name
Dief lifted his head and whined as if in assent. "I'm just going
to take a little nap here."
Ray wanted him to leave. Although Fraser was hungry, dirty and tired,
the idea of going back to the consulate held no appeal. But Ray clearly
wished him to go.
"All right, Ray. I'll just…umm, head out then…you're sure?"
"Yeah, yeah, Benton buddy," Ray was using his last reserves
to convey a man ready to nap, "Off you go."
Fraser gathered his jacket from Ray's bed and Ray wished he could think
of some reason why Fraser should leave it. The bed felt much colder now.
"I'll be back this afternoon, Ray."
"Dat's good…"Ray looked like he was about halfway back
to sleep as Fraser walked out the door. As soon as the Mountie left,
Ray swung his legs to the side of the bed and started to stand. He caught
himself on the nightstand as his legs gave out. "Shit. How am I
gonna walk this off if I can't walk?" He rubbed the inside of his
arms. It felt like ants were on their way to a picnic and his arm was
the garden path. He tried breathing like he'd seen pregnant women do
on TV. In the end he simply slid down on the floor, wrapped his arms
around his stomach and rocked back and forth.
Fraser stopped at the nurse's station on the way out. "Stanley
Welsh is awake. Well, he was awake. He may have fallen back asleep by
now."
The nurse gave Fraser a brilliant smile. "Welsh. Oh, yes, the drug
addict. I doubt he's back asleep if he came to.".
"Why do you say that?" Fraser hadn't liked Ray being referred
to as 'the drug addict' but he let that lay.
"Oh well he should be feeling pretty miserable right now and very
wired, even with his injuries."
Ray wasn't tired, he just didn't want him around. Fraser felt the accumulation
of four weeks of running on fear and adrenaline hit him.
"Are you alright, sir?" The nurse, who had been on duty all
night, wanted to go into that skinny blonde's room and shake him. How
could he put his friend through this nightmare? Look at this man, this
big, powerful, beautiful man. He shouldn't be spending the night babysitting
a druggie. He should be snug in her warm ah… a warm bed. Instead
the guy looks like he's going to collapse right in front of her.
"Sir, I think you should sit down. Why don't you come with me and
I'll get you something to drink." The nurse, he focused on her name
tag, Nurse Bellamy was tugging at his sleeve trying to steer him towards
the lounge.
"Don't you think you should go and check on Stan?"
"He'll be fine. This is just something he's going to have to get
through."
"The man came in here beaten, dehydrated, and starving. I hardly
think he'll be fine!"
Nurse Bellamy took a closer look at the man in front of her. He didn't
look like he was gay but who could say these days? Certainly he was rather
passionately attached to that scrawny wreck of a man in room 311. Wasn't
that just her luck?
"I'll go in and see what I can do." She didn't sound too enthusiastic
but Fraser was glad that someone would be checking in on Ray. He knew
Lieutenant Welsh would be here soon and he debated leaving.
The rocking had not brought any relief. Ray got up, holding onto the
furniture and the IV pole and made his way into the bathroom. He splashed
cold water on his face and wet a washcloth. He scrubbed at the marks
on his arms in a futile attempt to stop the itching and to make the evidence
of the last 6 weeks disappear.
He looked at himself in the mirror. The face that looked back at him
was his, albeit a thinner, more haggard version of the person he knew.
He looked harder. Would everyone be able to look at him and see the alien
that had taken up residence in here?
Welsh arrived as Fraser was debating with himself. *I hope I can get
the Mountie to go home and get some rest, he still looks haunted.*
"How was the night, Constable?"
"I don't really know if Ray slept or was simply unconscious but
at 6:15 he regained consciousness and he seems to be on the way to recovery.
The nurse is with him now."
Welsh was a little surprised that Fraser was out here and not in there.
"I'm glad to hear he got through the night all right."
"Now that you are here sir, I believe I will go back to the Consulate
and get some rest."
*Thought I'd have to work a lot harder to get the Mountie outta here.
Hmm. Something is not kosher in Denmark.*
"Good idea, Constable, I'll go check on my "son" and I'll
let you know if anything comes up."
Fraser gave a tight-lipped nod and called to Dief. Welsh could hear
him talking to the wolf as they headed down the hallway.
"Yes, ordinarily I would not leave Ray, but you heard him. He does
not want me with him right now. No, you cannot stay. I'm afraid the
nurses would not welcome a lone wolf roaming around."
Welsh headed in the opposite direction, anxious to see Ray for himself.
"Get out! I do not want that washcloth any where near me, do you
hear me?!" Ray sounded out of control and close to collapse. Welsh
entered the room to see Ray on one side of the room leaning haphazardly
against the wall while the nurse stood at the foot of the bed trying
to coax, cajole, and order Ray back into bed so she could clean him up.
"Nurse, give me that. I'll talk some sense into my… son."
Welsh's deep voice seemed to penetrate Ray's panic. "Ray,"
Welsh's voice was gentle, "get back into bed."
Ray looked up at the Lieutenant and nodded.
The nurse shrugged her shoulders, "Fine. Maybe you have the magic
touch." She said the words with a sarcastic twitch.
Welsh wondered if she had noted his hesitation on the word son. He did
not want to go where her mind seemed to be wandering.
He turned back to Ray. He was shuffling back towards the bed, IV in
tow. Welsh was glad that in his rebellious fit he had not detached himself
from the flow of saline and antibiotics. Ray needed both of those in
his system.
He helped Ray get settled back into bed. Ray lay there with his eyes
closed, his breathing becoming calmer. Welsh was a little unnerved by
this compliant, much too silent Ray. He placed a comforting hand on Ray's
shoulder and said,
"Take it easy, I'll be right back." Welsh warmed the washcloth
and grabbed a towel and soap. Ray's eyes were open but unfocused. *I'm
gonna haveta do some research on this addiction thing so I know what's
up with this kid.*
Ray's eyes tracked on Welsh as he closed in on the bed.
"Here, let's get this this, gown thing off ya." Ray obediently
leaned forward and was soon undressed. He leaned back against the pillows
and Welsh could see how very thin he was and the residual bruises that
spanned his narrow ribcage. "Ray, what gives, a pretty girl wants
to do inventory and clean-up and you turn her down?" He hoped a
little teasing would ease the moment but Ray seemed to have lost his
sense of humor.
The blond reached for the washcloth and said, "Give me that. I am
not a baby. I can do this myself."
He began scrubbing his chest and arms with a ferocity. Welsh watched
as he avoided the inside of his arms making an effort to hide that part
of himself from Welsh's sight
"Here." He handed Ray the towel and took the washcloth from
his hands. He began a gentle sweeping arc on Ray's back hoping to relax
Ray. He heard Ray sigh and Welsh took the towel and finished drying him
off. He pulled the gown back up. Ray leaned back and once again closed
his eyes.
"Tired? Can I get you something to eat, drink?"
"Nah, thanks, I'm good." Ray's words were slurred and it was
clear he was nearly asleep.
Welsh sat down in the chair and watched as Ray slipped into a restless
slumber.
Ray was back where the light was blinding. He called out for Fraser but
heard nothing. He sat up and squinted, hoping to make out some hint of
where he was and where Fraser was.
"FRASER?" he wailed.
"Ray, there's no need to shout, I'm right here."
And indeed Fraser was right here, "How'd you do that?"
"Do what, Ray?"
"How'd you pop up out of nowhere?"
Ray was groping the air with his hands because although he heard Fraser's
voice he still could not see him.
"Here I am, Ray." Fraser captured one of Ray's cold hands
and placed it under his tunic. Ray could feel his heart beating, a slow
steady tattoo that reassured him.
"Frase, I know you weren't here a minute ago. Where'ja come from?"
"Ray, there's an old Inuit legend that says when one needs…."
Ray interrupted. "Never mind, I'll live with the mystery."
Ray handed Fraser his other hand to be warmed.
"Can you stay?" Ray remembered how elusive Fraser seemed to
be these days.
"Stay? Stay until when?"
Ray pondered the question. What could he ask for? Until I don't need
you anymore? Until I am sick of hearing your voice drone on about Inuit
legends and the chemical make up of dirt? Until there's someone else
in my life that makes me feel like you do? That day might never come.
He couldn't ask for that.
"Until the real Vecchio comes back?" That seemed reasonable,
if not at all what he wanted.
"Yes, Ray, I can stay until the real Ray Vecchio returns."
Ray sighed. It would have to do.
Fraser returned in the afternoon, back in uniform and looking his usual
tidy self. When he entered Ray's room he saw that Ray was alone. He was
curled up on his side, facing the window.
"Ray. Ray. Ray." Ray slowly turned his head. "Fraser.
You're back." Ray sounded surprised.
"Of course I'm back, Ray. I wanted to see you…to see how you
are…" Fraser's voice trailed off.
Ray looked puzzled. "I'm fine, Fraser. Welsh told me how you spent
these last weeks looking for me. Shouldn't have done that. Bet the Ice
Queen is fit to be tied."
Fraser came closer to the bed. "Inspector Thatcher was worried about
you too. She took my leave of absence without protest. And frankly, even
if she had protested, I would have kept searching for you, Ray."
Ray looked back out the window. "Ya, well, I'm sorry, Fraser."
Fraser reached over and grabbed Ray's hand. "Sorry for what, Ray?
None of this was your fault"
"I don't know about that. You don't know. I don't know who I pissed
off. Maybe it is all my fault. Maybe there's a good reason for this…"Ray's
words were cut off by Fraser putting his hand over Ray's mouth.
"Shhh. Look at me Ray." Ray reluctantly looked into Fraser's
eyes. "This. Was. Not. Your. Fault." Fraser could see tears
in the corners of Ray's eyes. Before he could say anything more, Ray
had turned to look out the window once again.
Fraser tried again. " Ray…no one in their right mind would
do this to someone."
"Ya, so I crossed a crazy. Don't mean I didn't set this thing in
motion."
"That's ludicrous, Ray."
"Ludicr…ludi what?!"
"That kind of thinking is…silly."
"You thinking I'm being silly?" Ray's voice reflected his rising
anger. Fraser tuned in too late that Ray was incapable of their usual
banter.
He knew Ray had a tendency to blame himself, but this defied any logic
he might bring as a counter argument. Fraser felt the accumulated weariness
weigh in again. He knew that at even at the best of times he often failed
to convey the depth of his regard and affection for Ray. His affection…an
utterly inadequate word to describe the complex emotions he felt when
in Ray's presence. And now, with Ray in this kind of pain and with his
convoluted ideas about how all this had happened… Fraser sank down
into the chair.
"No, Ray. I do not think you are being silly. Your thinking that
you are somehow responsible for this….that is simply muddled thinking
on your part."
"Are you calling me stupid?!" Ray bolted upright and was glaring
at the Mountie.
"Ray. Ray, no. Of course not. I'm just saying…"
"YOU THINK I"M STUPID!" Ray was shouting and making moves
to get out of bed.
"Ray, please. Lie back. You misunderstand."
"Get out, Fraser. Get out!" Ray was standing, but Fraser could
see he wouldn't be for long. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead
and a definite sway in his body as he stood in front of Fraser.
A nurse entered, took one look at the tableau and said, "You."
She pointed at Fraser. "Visiting hours are over. Come back tomorrow
when Stanley is feeling a little stronger."
"And you."
She turned to Ray. "Back into bed."
Fraser turned to leave, a look of anguish on his face.
"Ray, I'll go but I'll be back to see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, ok, see you tomorrow." Ray said sullenly. He got back
in to the bed and watched Fraser's stiff back as he left the room. *Don't
know if I can do this. Can't let Frase see me this unhinged. Gotta pull
it together.* Ray was shivering again.
"Stanley, the doctor explained about the Methadone. It will get
you through this."
"No. No drugs. I'm getting off this one and I ain't gonna be on
another one. Just… let me alone. I'll be fine."
******************************************************************
Fraser tossed his hat on the cot and sat down heavily beside it.
He knew Ray needed him, but he had no idea of how to get to Ray. He knew
he hadn't made himself clear and somehow in his ineptitude he had angered
Ray and the anger didn't seem to be going away. Every day he had gone
back to the hospital and everyday the visit had quickly disintegrated
into Ray telling him to leave. He knew the Lieutenant saw Ray every day,
if, for no other reason than to maintain the charade. But Ray had refused
to see anyone else from the 27th. Perhaps it was time he stopped in at
the precinct and spoke with Lieutenant Welsh.
Welsh was getting a little fed up with his "son." Ray was
in the bathroom vomiting. He came out his head down and climbed up on
the bed. He looked liked he'd just finished a marathon; shaking, sweat
damp, pale and flushed, curled into a ball, clutching the pillow.
The doctor was there, observing Ray's difficulties. He flipped through
the chart in front of him and said, "Stan, I think you must reconsider
your stance. Take the Methadone. Get stronger. Then you can tackle this
part."
"No." Ray didn't have the energy to repeat himself. Welsh had
been great, coming every night to check in on him. But those few hours
with him paled beside the endless hours alone trying to break the hold
the drug had on him. More than once he almost left the hospital, thinking
to find some connection and end the state he was in. He played with the
idea, planning how he would make the buy and where he would go to shoot
up. He imagined the relief of the dope entering his veins and easing
the cramps, the cold, the dizziness…the loneliness, the knowledge
of his weakness, the shame of his failure, the pain of being separated
from Fraser. And then he'd wake up, freaked that his mind had gone back
there even for a moment. As each day passed and the need stayed constant,
he began to doubt he could get on top of it. That fear was growing, crowding
out his resolve to get back his life and put this behind him.
That resolve centered around his life as Benton Fraser's partner and
friend. He wanted that back. The way it had been. He knew it wasn't gonna
last, but he wanted it until he couldn't have it anymore. And to get
that back he needed to get clean. Clean. Was there ever a better adjective
for Fraser than clean? Clean in body, mind and heart. Innocent. Every
time he came through the door of the hospital room, Ray wanted to bolt
for the shower. He felt the contamination of the needle seeping out and
reaching for Fraser. Fraser mustn't know what he was now. Mustn't see
the how the drug had filled him up and emptied out all the good and useful
parts of him. If Fraser ever saw, really saw what the drugs had reduced
him to, he was sure Fraser would lose the respect he had for him. That
unexpected respect that had been his undoing when it came to Benton Fraser.
He knew he had a kind of careless approach that many people read as attitude.
He couldn't afford to care too much about what the people around him
thought of him. If he did, he would never have become a cop. God knows
that had been an unpopular decision with Stella. He should have seen
right then that she wouldn't last as a cop' s wife. That just wasn't
in a Gold Coast's girl's job description. In fact, if he was honest he
had to give Stella points for lasting as long as she did. And his father
had seen being a cop as just barely one step up from a criminal. Ray
was always baffled by that and by his father's ideas about he who he
was supposed to be. Wasn't he there when Ray struggled through High School?
What did he think he was going to become, a rocket scientist? His mom
had always kept an open mind…but she went where Damien went, body
and soul, and that didn't leave a lot of support for Ray.
Ray had always felt, despite his citations and promotions, that he got
just got by. Yeah, he had pretty good instincts, but way too much slipped
past him. Hell, just look at the mess he'd made of the Botrelle case.
And then one of the RMCP's finest came into his life and looked him up
and down; Hell, measured him, fingerprinted him, read his files, checked
his teeth, and found him worthy. That was completely unexpected. At first
he had thought it was just Canadian politeness, but then he realized
that Fraser, even in his extreme polite mode, did not lie. It meant a
lot to Ray. It meant the world to Ray. And he would not lose it, he would
not risk it. Fraser could not see him like this. But the effort of picking
a fight and compelling Fraser to go was getting harder and harder to
do. Every time Fraser came through the door, Ray was amazed. After all
the abuse and time the blond had heaped on him you'd think the Mountie
could find a better way to end a workday, but no. Every day at 5:45,
Fraser came through that door. Ray longed to have him pull up a chair
and ramble on about the Ice Queen and the latest crisis in Canadian diplomacy,
but he knew if he let Fraser stay, the jig would be up. Ray could only
hide the symptoms of withdrawal for so long and mainly by looking angry
and agitated. He really didn't think he had it in him to push Fraser
away one more time. He had to get away from here before Fraser came through
that door.
*****************
"Of course I know he's going through withdrawal. No one could be
given the drug for 6 weeks and not be addicted."
Welsh shrugged. "Well, Ray seems to be under the impression that
you don't know much about drugs and that he can bluff his way through
with you."
"Why would he feel the need to bluff with me, sir?"
"I don't think Ray is prepared for anyone to see him like this.
Not his folks, not Stella and not you."
Fraser absorbed this information in silence. It explained Ray's behavior
in the last few days. It hurt him to think Ray did not want him around
as he went through recovery, but then perhaps what comfort he had to
offer wasn't really much comfort after all. When he had been growing
up there had been no allowances made for illness or weaknesses of any
kind. Perhaps he had projected some discomfort at seeing Ray in pain
and Ray had read that as a judgement. Fraser silently groaned to himself.
That was exactly what he had feared happening with others-he hadn't thought
he would be part of the problem. This inability to convey his true feelings
seemed to sabotage every effort he'd ever made to grow close to other
people. Victoria, the first Ray…and now this Ray. The idea that
he had added to Ray's difficulties at this time chilled him and filled
him with self-loathing.
Welsh guided him to a chair. He'd seen the
Mountie take in the information and pale. He didn't understand that reaction
but he'd take one step at a time.
*******************
Ray was walking. He'd forgotten he had no money and no coat when he
snuck out of the hospital. It was only about a mile back to his apartment
but right now it felt like 10. His arms, wrapped around his middle, really
weren't generating the kind of warmth he needed, and his legs did not
seem up to what should have been the easy task of holding up his reduced
weight. He rounded a corner and ran into an old woman.
"Eh, now ducky, watch where yer going!" She took a closer look.
"Oh it's you, ducks, didn't realize it with the blood all washed
off."
Ray was leaning against the wall and thinking about the relative comfort
of lying on the sidewalk.
Marcy took his hand in hers and said, "You don't look so good, dearie.
Come with me and I'll get you something to eat." She tugged at him
and Ray could find no good reason not to go with her.
"Do I know you?" Ray was puzzled by the concern this homeless
woman was showing him.
"Why sure you do, honey. We met over a bag of donuts this summer.
Doncha remember? You, me, a big white dog and 7 jelly filled donuts?"
Ray thought back to this summer. Oh yeah, he'd taken Dief for a walk
while Fraser was delayed at the consulate. Mary had… Mary? Macy?
Marcy. Yeah, Marcy had fed Dief what was clearly all the food she had
in the form of a half glazed donut before Ray could stop her. She had
looked so delighted at Dief's wolfish consumption, Ray had decided to
extend the feast. They had a fine time sharing donuts and getting jelly
everywhere. Dief performed clean-up graciously and they had parted in
giddy laughter.
Marcy led him to her "spot" and sat him down on the square
of cardboard she called home. She rummaged around in a box and said,
"Here you go, ducky, just the thing." She handed him a box
of animal crackers.
"I can't eat these." Ray tried to hand them back.
"Why not, they're not too old." She looked affronted and put
them back in his hands.
"You have so little, I'm not eating
your last box of animal crackers!"
"Ah, ducks, I seem to have more than you do right now." Marcy
said eyeing the shivering form in front of her. Ray couldn't deny the
truth in that statement. He only had a few more blocks to go and he would
be home but even there he had very little.
"C'mon Marcy, walk me home and I'll make you a nice cup of tea."
"Oooh, I'd like that ducks. A nice warm cuppa is hard to come by
on the street." She sprang to her feet, making Ray wonder just how
old she was, and reached down to pull Ray up with surprising strength.
He got to his feet and wrapped an arm around Marcy's shoulders. They
set off down the street in companionable silence.
*******************
"Look Fraser, Ray's struggling right now and he's not accepting
help from anybody. Don't take it personal. He'll get through this fine.
Just give him some time." Welsh leaned on his desk and hoped the
Canadian would let himself off the hook. He'd seen the look that had
crossed Fraser's face and had correctly interpreted it as some sort of
self-reproach. Had there ever been two men more determined to make everything
harder than it had to be?
Fraser got stiffly to his feet. He was at a loss. Ray didn't want his
help. Ray wanted to go through this terrible time alone…
Fraser shook his head and said, "I understand. I'll give Ray the
space he needs."
******************
Marcy set the teakettle on the stove. How did this thing work? She twisted
a knob and a flame appeared. Oh, quite logical. She felt reassured. She
looked around the little apartment and enjoyed the feeling of being snug.
Ducks had no more than gotten them in the door when he had rushed into
the bathroom. Now he was lying on the couch shivering almost as much
as he had when they had been outside. Marcy padded over to check on him.
He lay with his eyes closed, breathing in shallow gasps.
"What's wrong, ducky?"
Ray opened one eye and said, "Don't worry Marcy, this will pass.
Just give me a minute."
Marcy looked at him skeptically but he'd already closed his eyes again.
She found his bedroom and took the blanket off the bed and covered him
with it. His breathing seemed a bit easier. She went back into the kitchen
and made herself a cup of tea. Ah, this was the good life. She wondered
how soon she could leave without being rude.
Landry scanned the information in front of him with mounting frustration.
No one had seen the goddamn cop since they'd dumped him in that alley.
He couldn't have disappeared and sure as hell hadn't gone back to work.
Landry had that and his apartment covered. He'd checked the arrest and
hospital records, no Vecchio. He'd checked the morgue. No one by Vecchio's
description had shown up. Someone was harboring him, someone was getting
in the way of his sublime punishment. He might have to put Plan B in
to effect if Vecchio didn't surface soon. Damn, damn, damn…Clarice
was more out of it everyday. Pretty soon she wouldn't be able to recognize
the beauty of his revenge or the love that inspired it.
The phone rang. "Yeah."
"Mr. Landry?" "Yeah. Whadya got for me?"
"Vecchio just entered his apartment, sir."
"Alone?"
"No, sir, he was with a woman."
Landry's rage ratcheted up another notch. Goddamn bastard had another
woman duped. Another woman taken in by his greasy charm. Another woman
helping him out. Well, she'd soon see what a mistake she had made.
Inspector Thatcher poked her head into Fraser's office. "Good, you're
back. I need the report on the status of the Somali's by tomorrow at
8."
Fraser took the papers from her hand and said, "Yes sir, I'll have
that done by 8."
"Fine." She hesitated. "How is Detective Vecchio, Constable?"
"Ah, he's recovering." Fraser hoped that would satisfy. It
did. "Well, good. See you in the morning."
It was after nine o'clock when Fraser got the phone call. "Fraser,
is Ray with you?" It was Welsh.
"No sir. Isn't he in the hospital?" Fraser tried to relax
his grip on the pen.
"Apparently he took himself out of there earlier this evening. I
had his apartment checked. He wasn't there either."
"Was there any sign of a struggle? Could whoever did this to him
have found him?"
"We're looking into that, Constable, but right now it looks like
he just took a powder. I've got Huey and Dewey checking the hospital."
"I'll go to his apartment, Lieutenant. I know the landlady will
let me in and I can wait there, in case Ray shows up."
"Good. Keep in touch, Constable"
Fraser grabbed his hat and made his way out the front door. He was very
glad both Turnball and Inspector Thatcher had called it a night.
Ray was getting mighty sick of the snow and the cold. When Fraser was
around it was bearable but Fraser had gone back to playing hide and seek.
Ray tried to stand but the snow beneath his feet seemed to be a sheet
of ice. As soon as he got to his feet he started sliding. He tried to
slow his descent, but there was nothing to grab on to. He didn't know
where this ride would end but that wasn't what was scaring him. How would
Fraser find him if he ended up in some gully or ice hole? Would Fraser
be able to track him? The surface beneath him was slick and he didn't
seem to be leaving any tracks. He tried to take off his shirt, thinking
the Mountie would see that in the field of white and come for him, but
he couldn't coordinate his arms as spiraled downward. "FRASER!"
The wind snatched his voice away and Ray knew no one could have heard
his cry. Ray smacked sideways into a tree, the wind knocked out of him.
The tree reached down with it's branches and gathered Ray into its arms.
Ray looked up and saw Fraser's face, alight with concern and tenderness.
"Are you all right, Ray?"
"Yah, Frase…I'm good…now."
Fraser looked down at the sleeping Ray. He looked gray and the lines
around his mouth were grooved with pain and fatigue. Fraser reached out
to smooth the lines on Ray's forehead and then snatched his hand away.
"Go on dearie, ducks don't bite." Fraser looked at Marcy. What
did ducks not biting have to do with touching Ray?
"How long has he been asleep?"
"I couldn't tell you, dearie, I've got no time for time." She
laughed at her joke. "Well, now that you're here, I'll just be toddling
off to me own beddy bye."
"I'm sure Ray would want you to stay. Please, take the bed."
"Oh no, I like the stars. I'm not one for four walls." With
that Marcy gathered up her coat. "Tell Ducky thanks for the tea."
Fraser watched her leave. One would think she was Ray's guardian angel
if one was Catholic.
Landry looked up at the apartment building. So the fuck was home at last.
He couldn't be in too good of shape. Excellent . "You got the stuff?"
he called over his shoulder to Del.
"Yeah, I got everything we need."
"Let's go. I want round two with this punk."
Fraser was at a loss. He wasn't at all sure Ray would want him here.
On the other hand there was no way he was going to leave Ray. It was
time they talked this out. He sat down on the chair facing Ray, waiting.
He watched Ray's breathing, riveted by the way every few seconds it caught
with a hitch, hesitated and then resumed. He wanted to reach out and
soothe the lines of pain on Ray's face and rest his hand on Ray's chest…he
reached out once again, compelled to make contact. Ray coughed and jerked
in his sleep and Fraser hastily withdrew his hand. If only Ray had not
been so very angry with him this last week… but as it was he did
not think Ray would welcome his attempt at comfort right now.
He got up to make some tea, to tidy the kitchen, to move himself outside
the range of Ray's vortex. The vortex that seemed to suck at his very
soul, calling him to his destruction, or at least, the destruction of
their friendship. He put the teakettle on and was rummaging through the
surprisingly wide range of tea selections, when the door burst open,
forced by one very large man.
Ray woke with a start. Del was in the doorway, Pete and Landry right
behind him. *Oh, God, please let this just be a nightmare.* Ray scrambled
to free himself from the blanket and stand to face what he knew was coming.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Fraser in the kitchen. What
the Hell was he doing here? Del and Pete had not tuned into his presence.
He wanted to keep it that way.
He made himself walk toward them. "What now assholes?" He
hoped he was able to hide the terror that was washing through his bones.
"Where is she?" Landry pushed his way past the two thugs and
grabbed Vecchio by his shirt. It pleased him to note how easily he was
able to that-Vecchio was clearly in a fragile state.
"Where's who?" Confusion showed on Vecchio's face, the same
lying confusion he had shown since little drama had started.
"The woman? The woman you brought home with you."
They were after Marcy now? What could they want with her? "There's
no woman here." Damn, he hoped Marcy wasn't here. His fears turned
to Fraser. He hoped he'd stay out of this but that seemed unlikely.
Landry turned back to Del and Pete, never releasing his hold on Ray's
shirt. "Search the place." The guy in front of him hardly
seemed able to stand, let alone get it on with some female. And he'd
been asleep on the couch. Something told him his information was not
as accurate as it should be considering the money he was paying for it.
Fraser took that moment to step out of the kitchen and say, "Perhaps
I could be of assistance?"
It was the Mountie. His intel had been right on that score, Vecchio and
the Canadian were tight.
"Del, take care of him." Del moved in. Fraser would of liked
to take him on, take them all on but Landry had shifted his hold from
Ray's shirt and now held him by the arm and he had brought his knife
out, causing Ray to rethink the situation. Del made a jab at Fraser's
stomach and when Fraser moved to block it, landed a solid right, and
followed by a knee to his middle. Fraser went down and Del finished him
with a blow to the back of his head. Ray strained against Landry's hold
wanting to get between Fraser and Del's efficient hands, but a part of
him hoped this would take Fraser out of it and keep him safe.
Pete came back from the bedroom. "No one there, boss."
Landry shoved Ray towards the couch. Pete started unpacking. "You
look like you could use this, cupcake."
Ray closed his eyes. Oh yeah, he could use some. He opened his eyes and
saw Fraser's still form, crumpled. He had to move this party out of here.
He relaxed his posture and started to roll up his sleeve. Pete was almost
done with his preparations. Landry was watching with rapt attention.
Seeing Vecchio so eager to get a fix did his heart good. Maybe plan A
wasn't such a wash. Pete reached for Ray's arm, intending to place the
rubber tubing around his forearm. Ray let him move in close and partially
block Landry's view and then he pulled Pete towards him and headbutted
him. He pushed Pete with the strength that comes when it's absolutely
your last hope. Pete careened into Landry, bowling them both over. Ray
scrambled, hoping to get his hands on the knife, when Del reappeared
from the can. He moved in and as Ray reached for the knife, gave him
a vicious kick to the ribs. Ray groaned as he sank to the floor. Del
pulled him up and backhanded him across the mouth. He was about to continue
the beating when Landry interrupted.
"Hold up there, Del. Seems Detective Vecchio doesn't wish to partake
of the fun. Pete, get the Mountie up and strap him to a chair. Wait.
Take his shirt off."
Ray struggled in Del's grasp but Del had no trouble keeping the smaller
man contained.
Landry rubbed his hands together. He'd seen Vecchio's
real weakness and he planned to make use of it.
"Pete, bring the juice over here."
Ray was in full panic now. "No. No, you can't do that! Do me! I'll
be quiet. Leave him alone." His fears of Fraser being contaminated
because of him were coming true. He knew how hard it had been for him
to deal with the feelings and the loss of control the drug brought. He
didn't want to think what damage it might do to someone like Fraser.
Someone who never even drank a beer, for cr'sakes. Someone who placed
such a high value on the being in control.
"What else would you do to spare your partner your fate?" Landry
was enjoying hearing Vecchio beg. This could be good.
"Anything you want, I don't care. Take me out of here and do your
worst. Just leave Fraser out of it." Ray knew he was babbling and
that nothing he was saying was likely to change Landry's mind.
Fraser had almost worked his hands free. He had allowed himself to
go down knowing it was the only way to even the odds. Ray's pleadings
on his behalf touched him deeply and also provided the distraction he
needed to finish getting free.
Landry moved in towards Ray until he could whisper in his ear, "Anything?"
Ray's stomach clenched at the tone in Landry's voice and he longed to
deliver a head butt to that smirking face, but he would not risk them
going after Fraser. He made his voice low and humble and said, "Yeah.
Anything."
Fraser knew this was his best shot, as all eyes focused on Landry and
what he would do next. It helped that they were in a cluster and he just
hoped surprise would serve.
He launched himself and had the satisfaction of connecting solidly with
Pete. As soon as Ray sensed the movement from Fraser's direction, he
had begun to pivot on his feet. He jammed his elbow into Del's side and
reversing the motion rammed the palm of his hand under Landry's chin.
The movement sent searing pain through his side. It was worth it to see
the shock on Landry's face as his lights went out.
Fraser had abandoned any thought of fair play. If he was going to get
Ray clear, he had to give up his usual moderation. The momentum of his
leap had taken Pete down and Fraser wasted no time in smashing his fist
in that face several times until he felt Pete go limp. Del had recovered
from Ray's initial blow and was delivering some more damage to Ray. Fraser
caught his fist and twisted him arm behind him. He spun Del away from
Ray and pushed him with all his strength into the wall. Then he grabbed
Del by the back of the head and bounced his head against the plaster.
He would have done it again and again, but he heard Ray's voice rasping,
"Frase, he's out, let it go. We gotta get out of here."
Fraser released Del and watched him slide to the floor. It took all his
discipline not to kick the unconscious man. His reaction shocked him.
He gave himself a mental shake and turned to Ray. He was trying to lean
down to retrieve the knife. His body was unable to maintain its equilibrium.
He felt himself falling and then he felt Fraser's arms come around him
and steady him.
"I've got it, Ray."…. *I've got you, Ray.*
He reached down and got the knife, handing it to Ray and setting him
on his feet. Instead of pushing away as Fraser expected he would, Ray
stayed in Fraser's arms, leaning into his broad chest. For a moment they
hung there, detached from the violence that had gone before and the threat
that still existed. Then Fraser's voice of reason kicked in and he turned
Ray around to look at him.
"Are you alright, Ray?" Ray's breathing was harsh, uneven.
He was pressing his arms to his ribs, trying to brace them. He knew they
had to move and move now but he couldn't help but wish Fraser's arms
were back doing the bracing.
"Ya, I'm good to go. Let's get outta here before we gotta go another
round."
Fraser looked again at Ray. They could not go far on foot. "Ray,
have you got the keys to your car?"
"Bedroom, I think." He started to head that way when he felt
his knees begin to buckle. Once again Fraser's arm came around him, steadying
him.
"We'll look together." If Ray had been in any better shape,
they could have stayed, controlled the situation. They'd been lucky
so far. If the others had had a gun, they wouldn't have stood a chance.
Time was not on their side. He looked at the figures lying on Ray's floor.
He contemplated hitting them each a few more times to make sure they
stayed there, but now that he had his rage in hand, he didn't think he
could beat an unconscious man.
In the car, Ray slumped sideways in the passenger seat. Fraser was unsure
whether he was unconscious or merely sleeping. He realized he needed
to contact Welsh and get men to Ray's apartment as soon as possible.
Ray would never be safe if Landry was still out there. He saw a phone
and pulled the car over. He dialed the precinct. "Francesca, connect
me with Leftenant Welsh, if you would be so kind."
"Fraser, did you find Ray?"
"Yes, Francesca, but I need to speak with Lieutenant Welsh right
now." Fraser tried to duck down and see through the car window to
check on Ray. Ray must have slipped down further in the car seat, as
the top of his head was no longer visible.
"All right, all right already, hold your ponies." Many clicks
later Fraser heard Welsh's voice come on the line.
"Yes Constable, you found our boy?"
"Yes, sir, but so did the men who did this to Ray. We left them
in Ray's apartment five minutes ago."
"Good. Hold on." Fraser could hear Welsh barking orders. "I'll
have someone over there in 2. Where are you now?"
"I have Ray in the car and I'm headed back to the hospital."
"How's he doing? He fightin' ya on this?"
"No sir, he's pretty out of it. I'm afraid he may have re-broken
his ribs."
"Ah, great, just what he needs. Call me from there, Fraser and update
me."
"Yes, sir."
Fraser was anxious to get Ray to the hospital and make sure Landry and
his goons were safely locked away. When he got back to the car, he found
Ray face down on the driver's seat, his arms wrapped protectively his
ribcage. Fraser carefully moved him, settled in the driver's seat and
laid Ray's head on his lap. Before starting the car, he did what he had
been longing to do for the last three hours and gently stroked Ray's
cheek, trying to ease the pain and stress he saw reflected there. He
was surprised at how gossamer Ray's three day beard felt. Ray stirred
under his hand, turning to nuzzle Fraser's palm. Fraser froze. The feeling
of Ray responding to his touch sent tiny shocks up his arm. He knew Ray
had no idea what he was doing but it didn't stop Fraser's body from responding
to the feel of Ray's unshaven cheek pressing into his hand, like a cat
seeking more attention. He took his hand away, meaning to start the car.
Ray came more fully aware and started to cough.
"Ah, geez…" He had to stop and try and catch his breath.
Fraser put his hand back on Ray's head and stroked his hair.
"Are you all right, Ray?"
"Hurts. Hard to breathe." Ray tried to sit up, but found it
difficult to simultaneously push up and hold his aching side.
Fraser put his hands under Ray and helped him sit up. "Ray, let
me look at you."
Ray kept his head down, breathing in little gasps. Fraser reached over
and cupped his chin, turning Ray towards him. Ray's eyes were closed
but Fraser was relieved to see there was no sign of blood on his lips.
He placed his hand on Ray's shoulder and tugged Ray's shirt up. There
was a background of fading yellow on his right side and now, superimposed
on that was a darker mottling of red. Fraser gently touched the area
and Ray moaned and leaned harder on Fraser's hand.
"Do you mind, Frase? That really hurts."
"I realize that, Ray, and I'm sorry but I need to see if any ribs
are broken."
"S'kay, don't think they're broken, just bruised." Ray was
breathing a little easier now that he was sitting up. Fraser took his
hand away and pulled his shirt back down. Gently he propped Ray so he
was leaning against the door and started the car.
"Francesca, was Landry and his men arrested or not?" Fraser
was uncharacteristically impatient but Frannie was dithering. There
was no other word for it and Fraser wanted some reassurance as to Ray's
safety.
"Fraser, I told ya. They made some arrests at Ray's place and they're
bringing them in now. That's all I know. I'm not Crisco, y'know."
"That's Kreskin." Fraser answered absentmindedly. He wanted
to feel relief that Ray was now safe but he knew that until the drugs
lost their hold on him, safety was a relative term. He'd seen the look
on Ray's face when Landry had held out the needle and knew his partner
was still battling his addiction.
Fraser could see Welsh talking to a doctor. The doctor was shaking his
head. Fraser's heart raced. What was wrong? He reached Welsh's side as
he heard the doctor say, "I understand your reluctance to have your
son addicted to another substance, but his physical condition is making
the withdrawal all the harder. Let's get him patched up and on his feet
and then he can do the heavy lifting."
"No. I'm afraid that won't work." Welsh shook his head.
"I know you're a cop. Is that what this is about? Is this your idea
of the punishment fitting the crime? Your son got in over his head and
you're going to be sure he learns his lesson?"
Welsh's face went red with fury. "Look Doc, it's not my call!
Even if I thought this was a good idea, Stan would never agree. He's
adamant about this. And for your information, this is the last thing
I want my son to go through!"
Fraser took Welsh's arm and steered him down the hall. "Ray's going
to be all right, isn't he?"
Welsh looked distractedly at Fraser. "Oh yeah, he's peachy. His
ribs aren't broken, bless the God of small things, but he is in sad shape
right now."
"I just spoke with Francesca and she said arrests had been made
at Ray's apartment but she had no details."
Fraser couldn't keep the anxiety he felt from showing in his voice.
Now that he had Ray back in the hospital, he allowed himself to feel
the fear of what might have happened if he had not been there. The fear
of Ray disappearing again, only this time knowing all too well what terrible
things were happening to him, the fear of finding Ray too late. Too
late, too late…
Fraser went into Ray's room. He found Ray propped up in bed, fast asleep.
One arm lay outside the blanket and Fraser moved to tuck it in. He hesitated,
wondering if he would feel the same shocks when he touched Ray. He didn't
know if he wanted to feel that again. It had been unbalancing, to say
the least. Nevertheless he picked up Ray's arm and found himself mesmerized
by sight of the tracks. They were an odd purplish hue, like the color
of postal cancellations. Fraser traced the line with his fingers. Knowing
how Ray felt about needles, he imagined he could feel the trauma Ray
must have felt at this perverse assault. He looked over to Ray and found
him still sound asleep, his face looking relaxed in the dim light of
the fading afternoon. He reluctantly relinquished Ray's arm, tucking
the blanket around Ray's shoulders. He leaned over and placed a kiss
on Ray's forehead. Surprised by his own actions and yet oddly sure about
them, he rested his cheek next to Ray's and evened his breathing to match
Ray's.
The snow lay all about Ray like a fluffed up blanket, but instead of
warmth, Ray felt the cold lying on him, seeping to his bones.
"FRASER!"
"Ray. No need to shout. I'm here."
"Ya, I've heard that before but then you slip away Fraser."
"No Ray. I am always here, it's you who slip away."
Ray thought about that for a moment. "Ah, hm….Can't get too
used to you being here. Wouldn't do."
"Why not, Ray. We're partners. You should get used to me being here."
"Nah, I'm a stand-in." Ray said flatly. " Stand-ins haveta
move back to the crowd scene when it's time for the star to take places.
That's the way it's done." Ray was emphatic.
"I don't believe you have that right, Ray."
"Oh yeah, I saw a whole special piece on Entertainment Tonight.
Trust me, this is how it's done. You stand in, they check the lighting,
the camera angles, the sound and then they move you aside and bring on
the real guy."
"No, Ray, I mean you aren't a stand-in. You're the real guy."
"Look, maybe in The Velveteen Rabbit you can go from unreal to
real but not in this world. And even in The Velveteen Rabbit you have
to be loved so long and so hard all your hair rubs off before you get
to be real."
Ray felt Fraser rubbing his head. "Well, you do seem to have all
your hair. But that doesn't change the fact that you are real to me."
"For now, I'm real, but just wait until midnight…"
"Ray, you're mixing children's stories."
"Easy for you to say."
Fraser came awake slowly. For a moment, he allowed himself to just lie
still and savor the sound of Ray's breathing and the feel of Ray's warmth
so close to him.
Welsh was waiting for Fraser as he came out of Ray's room.
"We've got some good news and some bad news. We arrested two guys
at Ray's place. They aren't saying much yet. But this Landry guy had
taken a powder. We've already checked and crosschecked for references
to any Landry and nothing is coming up. Probably not his real name. I
was hoping you'd could do a sketch of what this guy looks like. We'll
get it out on the street, maybe turn over some new stones."
"What about fingerprints?"
"Forensics will have them sometime in the next hour and hopefully
we'll nail the guy then"
"Who's interviewing Landry's men?"
"Huey did the first bit, but they're hanging tough. They've lawyered
up. They know what they're in for, kidnapping and assaulting an officer.
We'll get something out of them, but it'll be awhile." Welsh let
out a frustrated sigh.
"In the meantime, I'm putting an officer on Ray's door." Fraser
raised his eyebrow at this news.
"Do you think Landry would actually try to harm Ray in the hospital?"
"Oh God, I wish I knew, I wish I knew what this was about. We've
got enough to worry about just getting Ray back on his feet without worrying
about this Landry's next move." Welsh flipped open his phone and
hit a button.
"Frannie, has the PD shown up yet?"
"Nope, we're still waiting."
"They say anything at all we can use?"
"Sorry Leu, they're being oyster like."
That gave Welsh pause. "Oh, they've clammed up. Yeah, OK call me
on my cell phone you hear anything, got that?"
Fraser knew he needed to do the sketch of Landry and he hoped to check
the mugshots to see if he could track him that way. He nodded to the
officer at the door and peeked into Ray's room. He saw Ray had slumped
to one side and hurried to straighten him. Ray's eyes opened.
"Fraser, you all right? You concussed or anything?" Ray was
trying to scrutinize his partner but the combination of the day's exertions
and lack of his glasses, was making it hard to focus.
Fraser could see that Ray needed reassurance and he bent down to Ray's
focal range. "I'm fine, Ray. No harm done."
Ray reached up and put his hand on Fraser's cheek. "You took quite
the right hook there, buddy. You sure you're ok?
Fraser marveled again at Ray's concern. Up north you practically had
to be bleeding out before anyone inquired after your well being. It scared
him a little to see his vulnerability through Ray's eyes.
"Yes Ray, really. I'm fine. How do you feel?"
Ray closed his eyes, considering whether to lie. He realized he just
didn't have the energy to pull it off and so he said, "Not so hot."
He let out a breath. "I want to get out of my skin." He looked
surprised at his words.
Frannie stuck her head in the door. "Yo, bro, how're ya doing?"
She was shocked to see Ray looking so done in. "You really can't
catch a wave these days, can you?"
"Catch a wave, Frannie? You thinking there's surfing on the lake
they call Michigan?"
"I think she meant catch a break, Ray." Fraser was glad to
see Ray had the energy to bait Frannie.
"Yeah, wave, break, it's all from the same vernacular." Frannie
hoped she'd said that right.
Both Ray and Fraser looked nonplussed. "Hey, I read." Frannie
looked indignant.
"Oh yeah, she got that word calendar for her birthday from Welsh,
remember? Ought to be an interesting year."
"Well, when I'm done with the year I'll lend it to you. Then you
won't need Frase to do your interpreting."
"Ray, I have to do a sketch of Landry, and I want to go the station
and check the mug shots. Will you be all right with Francesca for awhile?"
Fraser saw a flash of something in Ray's eyes, quickly followed by anger.
"Course Fraser, geez, you don't have to hover. I'm fine. Go."
Fraser hesitated. "You'll stay here, Ray?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm not going anywhere but to sleep. Really. Frannie,
you head home, too. I'm not good company right now."
"No, Ma's at bingo and I've got some time before I pick her up.
I'll just hang out while you fall asleep." Frannie settled into
the chair vacated by Fraser.
"Well…then…I'll head out but I'll be back." Fraser
turned toward the door.
"Uh, not tonight, Frase. I'll just be sleeping." Ray hoped
Fraser would take the hint.
"Right. Goodnight Francesca, goodnight Ray."
Fraser slowly made his way to the front door. He felt a certain deja
vu. Ray's anger and then his eagerness to see Fraser leave was setting
off alarm bells in his brain. Certainly, Ray wouldn't leave the hospital?
He was in worse shape than when he had started out this afternoon and
he now knew Landry was out there, waiting for him. Ray wasn't foolhardy.
He wouldn't risk that. Fraser knew logically he should feel reassured
but he didn't. First things, first. If they could nail Landry, the danger
to Ray would be eliminated. He picked up his pace.
Frannie watched Ray's breathing deepen into sleep. His lip was cut and
there was a bruise along his jaw and another on his temple. Had there
ever been a man more likely to get walloped? She could count the number
of times on one hand that the Duck boys had engaged in fisticuffs. *God,
I love that calendar.* She leaned over Ray and gently placed her lips
on his forehead. "Sweet dreams, Ray."
As soon as Frannie got out the door, Ray sat up. He stifled a groan.
He knew he had some acting ability, you had to, to work undercover, but
he was starting to think he might have real untapped potential. He wasn't
sure why it was so important to him that no one see how bad off he was.
It was one thing to have Fraser and Frannie cluck over him because he'd
gotten the snot kicked out of him. It was another to imagine the look
in their eyes and see the pity and revulsion at the weakness in him.
He didn't know how he was going to make it without a fix. The pain he
felt at not having the drug in his system was eating away at him. But
it was the restless hunger and the inconsolable need to get outside his
body and brain that scared him the most. And when he thought of Landry's
threat to inject Fraser, he felt wild with fury and fear. The idea that
anyone would hurt Fraser deliberately, sully Fraser's innocence, his
belief in the goodness of the world…it was unbearable. He needed
Fraser just like he was, a sort of filter to the world for Ray. Fraser
looked at the ugliness and pain and somehow made it noble and human.
He needed that more now than ever before, because right now the world
he was in was only ugliness and pain.
Ray got dressed. He had no choice here, despite his assurances to Fraser.
He needed to finish this with Landry and he needed to do that without
Fraser anywhere near. He knew he wasn't going to come out of this…he
had no guns, no back-up, and no heart left to see the next morning.
Getting by the cop at the door wasn't going to be easy. Ray peered out
the crack of the door and smiled. The officer was at the nurse's station,
flirting with that nurse. Obviously he was not worried about Ray getting
out, only someone getting in. Ray slid out the door and turned the corner.
He knew where he was going.
Fraser studied the photo. The man was younger, considerably thinner,
and without facial hair, but Fraser believed he'd finally found Landry.
The name under the mugshot was Lars Aus. No wonder he went by Landry.
But Marsdale? He must have his reasons. He'd been convicted of selling
junk bonds. Junk bonds? Fraser hurried into Welsh office.
*************************************************************************
Ray figured if Landry had found him once at his apartment, he'd find
him again. He openly walked to the front of the building and turned to
look around and allow anyone watching to see him. Then he walked inside,
trying to project a confidence he did not have. He looked up the stairs
and almost decided to simply sit down and wait for whoever here, rather
than face the almost insurmountable task of walking up them. But he really
didn't want to finish this out huddled on a step and so he forced himself
to keep moving. He made it to the second landing and leaned on the railing,
trying to catch his breath. One more landing, keys in the door, door
kicked shut, weave to the couch, sink down, close eyes, hope the nausea
lets up, don't think a dash to the john would be successful. Ray took
shallow breaths. *OK, OK, I can do this, I can face this, end this. I've
been in alone in rough places before.* He thought about that. He'd had
Stella in his life almost since he could remember having a life. He'd
built his world around her. Hell, he built himself around her. What would
please, impress, pacify her…what would inspire her devotion. He
shook his head. He wasn't being honest here. If he really had wanted
her devotion, he never would of gone to the academy. He had chosen against
her on that one and she knew it. Why? He had never really understood
that impulse himself…the need to do the thing that would create
distance with both Stella and his father until he'd met Fraser. Honor,
duty, justice, goodness…on the streets of Chicago they were laughable
concepts, corny, unacceptable criteria for becoming a cop. When he had
tried to explain to his dad or to Stella about his decision, it had come
out sounding…like a loser choice.
And yet Fraser made his reasons glisten and shine. Instead of sounding
corny they were real and worthwhile… Ray felt himself drifting asleep
and jerked himself awake. He was starting to shake again. He tried to
clamp his teeth together to stop the chattering, but he knew when this
started nothing much helped. He pulled himself into a sitting position
and groaned. He took a moment, hugging his arms tight to his body, his
head resting on his chest, as he brought his breathing back into control.
God, he'd like to get this over with. Whatever this was, whatever came
next…he just wanted to end it knowing he hadn't corrupted the Mountie's
take on how the world worked. But damn, he wished he could do that with
Fraser instead of without him. Ray's eyes flew open as he heard footsteps
on the stairs. He watched as his already broken door was smashed in once
again. There again stood Landry, this time alone.
He held a gun out and strode into the room, scanning the kitchen, and
backing up to look in the bedroom, all the while keeping his weapon trained
on Ray.
"So you're all alone, Vecchio? " he sneered. "Where's
your Mountie watchdog?" Ray didn't bother to answer. "For
such a wiseguy you sure are dumb. What made you come back here?"
"I hate hospitals." Ray answered, flatly.
Landry studied Ray. He looked like shit, hunched over like an old man,
his face grey. This was good. He especially liked the eyes. They were
bleak and empty. He'd seen a lot of eyes that looked like that but seeing
Clarice's eyes reflect that damage was what had set Landry off on his
quest in the first place.
"Get up." Landry was eager to initiate phase 2.
Ray considered refusing but he thought better of it. The longer they
stayed here the greater the danger that Fraser might walk in. He stood
up and the room took a spin. He felt Landry's hand on his shoulder, his
fingers digging in as he propelled Ray out the door.
"I got bubkis on current whereabouts or associates. Huey's in room
3 trying to use the new info to loosen them up but they seem sincerely
ignorant of this guy's identity." Welsh looked apologetically at
Fraser.
"Sorry, it was good work, finding the name, just wish it had been
more of a magic bullet."
Fraser nodded, lost in thought. He was torn between interrogating the
men himself and getting back to Ray. "Sir, perhaps you'd give me
a moment with those men?"
"Sure, Constable. Take a whack at 'em." Welsh rubbed bleary
eyes and checked his watch. He wanted to check in on Ray before it got
to late. He'd wait and see if Fraser had the magic touch. If he did get
anything, Welsh wanted to move on it immediately.
" Francesca, Is Dectective Huey still in room 3?"
Fraser heard Frannie's voice coming from around the corner. "Yeah,
Fraser, Huey's still toasting them as we speak."
"You mean grilling them?"
"Toast, grill, apply heat and watch them sweat, same principle."
Frannie handed Welsh a file. She looked at Fraser and sighed. "This
is the one called Del's sheet. He's from Detroit, no ties here we can
find. A hired gun."
Being in the trunk of Landry's car had to rank right up there as one
of the more tortuous moments of Ray's life. He tried to brace himself
but every bump and turn slammed some part of him into the hard edges.
He fought the nausea, hating the idea of Landry finding him covered in
vomit.
Mercifully, the ride came to an end. Ray tensed, waiting for the trunk
to open, but nothing happened. *Oh, shit, I'll die of aphix… asper…
oh fuck, I'm gonna suffocate in here.* Ray pounded on the top of the
trunk with his fists. It was futile. The darkness seemed to weigh 300
pounds, all pressing down on him. It was bad enough to die alone, but
alone, in the dark, in a tiny space, with no air….Ray fought the
panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. *Get a grip. You have enough
air. The darkness can't kill you. Yes it can, yes, it can. No. It. Can't.
WWFD? * Ray forced himself to relax, to take deeper breaths, to unclench
his fists. *WWFD? Feel around, find something to use. Keep cool.* Ray
felt around the trunk. The trunk was clean. Ray lay on his back and maneuvered
his feet against the top of the trunk. He groaned at the pressure on
his ribs. He pushed with all the strength he had left and the trunk popped
open. Ray's euphoria was short lived as he saw Landry staring down at
him.
"Have a pleasant journey, Vecchio?" Landry reached in and hooked
his arm around Ray's chest, yanking him out. Ray tottered, but was kept
from falling by Landry's grip.
"C'mon, I got things to see and people to do."
"Gonna do your own dirty work this time, asshole?" Ray figured
it couldn't get much worse.
Landry grabbed Ray's chin and turned Ray's face towards his. "Oh,
I'm gonna get dirty this time, Vecchio, you'd better believe it. "
He half marched, half dragged Ray into the warehouse he'd pulled up in
front of. They moved towards the back and entered a windowless storage
room, empty, except for a satchel. Landry positioned Ray along the wall
where pipes ran and bringing out a pair of handcuffs, he attached Ray
to the pipe that ran at waist height. Landry stepped back and Ray slid
down to the floor, one hand suspended above his head.
Landry got busy, pulling his kit from the leather bag. Ray watched, unsurprised
as Landry arranged the syringe, rubber, spoon and burner in a neat line.
Landry rolled up his sleeves dramatically and said, "Shall we begin?"
Ray swallowed hard and looked away. He hated this part. He hated all
of it but this part, where the needle moved inexorably towards him, delivering
the evil straight into his heart…into his soul… He shut his
eyes. *At least it wasn't happening to Fraser, at least Ben was safely
out of it.* His head snapped back and slammed into the pipes as Scipio
backhanded him. The blow split his lip again.
"Wake up little Susie. You don't want to miss the party, do you?"
Landry was bubbling with excitement. He wrapped the rubber hose around
Ray's arm. Ray felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach. As much as
he hated this, dreaded this, his body still craved it. *Oh god, I suck.*
He couldn't believe he needed this as much as he did. Landry looked at
him. Ray looked away but Landry grabbed his hair and yanked head back,
staring at him. "You want this. You went back to your apartment
because you knew I would find you and give you this. Admit it."
"Fuck you." He tried to pull his arm away from Landry's grasp
but Landry held it easily.
"Oh, this is good, this is so so good." Landry tightened the
tourniquet and propped Ray's arm on his knee. Ray tensed but did not
fight it and Landry patted him on the head.
"Such a good little junkie. Here you go, breakfast of champions."
And he plunged the needle into Ray's arm. Ray felt the familiar passage
of the drug as it moved from his arm into the rest of his body. The hit
seemed to be more powerful than any of the others before and he felt
his body going numb at a rapid pace. His heart, which had been racing,
was now slowing to a sluggish thump. He felt the veil of peace descend
and the feeling of floating easing the pain of his smashed mouth, his
sore ribs, his bitter disappointment in himself. His head lolled forward.
He could hear Landry packing the kit back into the bag. He saw Landry's
legs next to him. Landry reached down and pulled Ray's head up by the
hair.
"Are we having fun, yet?" He lifted one of Ray's eyelids.
They were dilated. Drool and blood mixed together was pooling on Ray's
shirt. Landry stepped back and was quite pleased with his tableau.
"Yep. This ought to do it." Ray heard his footsteps fading
away and then there was silence. He felt unconsciousness tugging at him
and wondered in a detached way if these were his last moments in this
lifetime. He couldn't seem to find the outrage that would have been appropriate,
only a little wistfulness that he hadn't had more time to play out being
Vecchio. This was a life that worked for him, better than his own ever
had. On that thought he let go and tumbled into darkness.
Fraser wanted to slam his fist into a wall, or his fist into Del's face.
The man had been in enough trouble in his lifetime to know exactly how
to swerve from giving any useful information. The anger Fraser was feeling
startled him with it's intensity. He knew Ray needed resolution and he
needed Ray's safety ensured. Right now both were just out of reach. Time
to reconnect with Ray and tackle this problem from another angle. He
went into Welsh's office. He could hear Welsh on the phone.
"Whaddya mean he's not in his room? Where else would he be?"
Fraser froze in the doorway. There was a pause as Welsh listened, his
frown intensifying. He looked up and saw Fraser and motioned him in.
"I don't believe this. You let him waltz right outta there? You
search that hospital again, every inch." He slammed the phone down.
"Can you believe this? He left. That son of a bitch said he'd stay
put and he fucking left!" Welsh waved his hand in a semi-apology
for the language. "If he's not dead, I'm gonna kill him."
Fraser whirled around, heading for the door. "I'll check his apartment
again."
Ray was floating once again. There was no floor, no walls, nothing to
keep him anchored to this soulless room. Ray called out to Fraser, his
voice barely above a whisper. He was unprepared when he heard Fraser
respond with his name. Tears came, and he tried to duck his head and
brush them aside. "Ray? Ray. Look at me." Ray lifted his head
with difficulty. He felt Fraser help him with the Herculean task and
use his thumbs to dry his tears. He looked into Fraser's face and was
stunned to see love, undiluted love shining there. "Ray, why did
you run away?" *Oh shit, Fraser was here. Landry could come back
at any moment.* He started to yank wildly at the handcuffs when he realized
he wasn't held by them anymore. He wasn't in the warehouse. He was outside
and the stars were bright in the sky. He looked around and saw the snow.
When did it snow? How long had he been out of it? Fraser had eased down
beside him and had him cradled in his arms.
"Ray? Why did you leave me? Why did you say you'd stay when you
meant to go?" There was mystification in his voice and pain.
"Frase, I'm sorry, it's just the thought of Landry getting his
hands on you…putting dope in you…I couldn't handle if that
happened because of me…I couldn't risk that…"
"Ray, what are you talking about? I don't know anything about a
Landry. All I know is for weeks I've been on your trail and for weeks
you've dodged me. And when I do catch up to you, you act pleased to see
me and as soon as you're able, you go off again." Ray saw a glint
of anger mingled with the love.
"Didn't think it'd do our partnership any good to have you see me
like this." Ray gestured weakly at his arms. "Wanted to get
better and come back to you, come back whole." A sob escaped him.
"But I don't know if I can find whole anymore."
Fraser brushed his hair up, off his forehead. He bent down and kissed
Ray there and lay his cheek on the top of Ray's head. "You might
not have found whole, but you found me. I'm not letting you go off this
time Stanley Ray."
Landry parked the car in front of the warehouse, a smile of grim satisfaction
on his face. "C'mon Clarice, your surprise is waiting for you."
Next to him sat Clarice. She had a wan beauty. She looked at Landry with
very little interest.
"Look, Mars, unless you have a nice stash in there, I'm really not
interested." Her speech was refined but her voice was like jagged
glass. Landry winced. He could remember her at 17, the belle of the neighborhood.
She had been a giggler and infectious in her zeal for life. Now at 28,
she looked 45. She didn't giggle. Her laugh was a harsh indictment of
innocence lost. Landry came around to her side of the door and pulled
her out.
"Hey, trust me. This is gonna be better than any high." She
shook her head but followed him. They made their way through the dark
building and into the small room where a single light bulb illuminated
the scene. Ray was coming out the other end of his ride. He heard the
footsteps and tried to lift his head. He was not successful.
Landry and Clarice came to a stop in front of him. "See Clarice,
is this not perfectly sublime?"
Clarice looked at Landry. "What?" Clarice was getting cold
and bored. " I'd like a little of what he's having, Mars, if you're
giving it out."
"Don't you recognize him, Clarice?" Landry crouched in low
and lifted Ray's head. "I know he's a little messed up right now
but surely you know your old friend Ray Vecchio?" Ray tried to focus
his eyes on the woman in front of him. She narrowed her eyes at him and
he saw the emptiness that stared back at him when he looked in the mirror.
"Mars, I don't know who this guy is, but he's not Ray Vecchio. Ray
was dark and tall and he wore these wonderful suits that set off his
eyes…" Clarice's eyes had gone all dreamy as she described
the Ray she knew. Landry's anger flared. Her voice, as she described
Ray Vecchio had gone all soft and girlish. He would kill that fuck. He
looked down. "So who is this, Clarice?"
"I told you, I don't know. Why would you think he was Ray Vecchio?"
"Because that's what his badge says, and that's what his driver's
license says, and that's what the name on his apartment says, and that's
the way he answers the phone, Clarice." Landry pulled back his foot
and kicked Ray in the side. Ray hadn't seen it coming and it caught him
square. He yelped and slumped over.
Landry shook his head at the man crumpled at his feet."God, what
a loser. What am I gonna do with this Ray Vecchio if he's not your Ray
Vecchio?"
"Well, don't waste any more juice on him for one thing. What was
the point of this anyway?"
"I wanted him to taste the life he left you with when he left. It
seemed a sort of poetic justice." Landry was wiping prints off the
cuffs and pipe and looking around for anything he might have left.
"Oh, Landry, that's so sweet." Clarice reached up and caressed
Landry's face. " Let's go and get something to eat." She tugged
on Landry's sleeve and pulled him towards the door. Landry studied the
man slumped on the floor. He hated loose ends. He took the knife out
of his boot and approached the blond.
*Oh great, he was going to die a junkie because Vecchio screwed and left
the wrong woman. Shit.* Ray slowly righted himself and looked up at the
pipes. He tried yanking at the pipes, hoping for some rust and movement
but they were solid. Watched as Landry moved towards him, his face twisted
with malice. Ray pulled at the handcuffs frantically. That action had
sent shooting pains through his ribs and he wished he was back in the
dope cocoon, oblivious to hopeless pain and fear. Landry grabbed his
free wrist and straightened it out. He took the knife and sliced across
at the wrist. Ray stared in shock as the blood bubbled out.
"Mars! I am not waiting one second longer! You get out here now
or you can kiss me goodbye!"
"Shit! Well, whoever you are, you'll just die a little slower than
I planned."
Ray clutched his wrist to his chest trying to slow the bleeding. Thank
God Landry was so stupid he didn't know the efficient way to open an
artery.
He huddled next to the wall and thought, WWFD? He started to sing the
song Fraser had sung on the Harry…Henry Allen. He was surprised
at how many words he remembered. "Sing along, Frase…"he
mumbled.
No one had seen Ray. The door to Ray's apartment had been kicked in.
Again. But it was hard to tell if Ray had been here when that happened.
Fraser ran his hands through his hair and considered options. There weren't
many. Go back to the station and beat Del until he gave Landry up. It
wasn't much but it was all he had and he headed back.
Clarice watched as Landry tossed back another tequila and slapped the
glass on the table. He'd broken down and given her a little to tide her
over and she was feeling no pain. Landry signaled the waiter for another
one and Clarice motioned for two. Landry was pleased she was joining
in. He hated getting drunk alone and right now he was well on his way
there. Fuck! He could not believe this guy was not Clarice's guy. Wait.
Would she lie to protect the scum? Nah, She'd been too immediate and
unconcerned in her response.
He didn't understand what had happened
here but right now all he wanted to do was enjoy Clarice's company and
get hammered. Clarice got up from the table.
"I'm going to the john, I'll be back in a sec, Mar." Landry
waved his hand, sloshing the tequila
"Okay, darling. Hurry back."
Clarice rounded the corner to the payphone by the bathroom and quickly
dialed 911.
"Listen. There's a cop at 1252 Hood. It's a warehouse. He's in bad
shape and in the back." Before anyone on the line could say anything
to her, she hung up and sauntered back to the table. Picking up her drink
she said, "Live long and prosper." And choked as she succumbed
to a giggling fit.
Fraser growled at Del, who had the instinct to throw up his hands for
protection. "You will tell me where Landry lives or I will kick
you in the head." As soon as the words left his mouth he knew Del
would never take the threat seriously. Oh, to have the passion and energy
of Ray next to him, playing this part to perfection.
Welsh stuck his head in the door, "Fraser, we just got a call. A
call came in about a cop in a warehouse on Hood. There's only one cop
unaccounted for right now and that's our cop. Let's go."
Welsh's car screeched to a stop at Win and Hood. The warehouse was dark.
He and Fraser watched as Huey and Dewey pulled up and then all four made
their way into the building. Welsh had a regulation flashlight and lighted
the way to the back. As soon as they opened the last door they saw Ray
lying sideways on the concrete, one arm cuffed to a pipe and at a 90-degree
angle.
Fraser ran to him, immediately feeling for a pulse in his neck. He felt
it, slow and steady. Fraser lifted Ray onto his lap, trying to take the
strain off his wrist, which was raw and bleeding. He noticed the pool
of blood under the other wrist and picking it up saw the gash. Welsh
quickly took his handkerchief out and wrapped it around Ray's wrist.
He then reached over Ray's head and unlocked the cuff. He could hear
Fraser crooning something in a low voice right in Ray's ear, but Ray
remained still.
"Jack! See if the bus is out front yet! Tom, look around for something
to get Ray warm!"
Welsh shrugged out of his jacket and carefully
wrapped it around Ray, who lay limp in Fraser's arms. He squatted next
to Fraser and lifted one of Ray's eyelids. What he saw seemed to reassure
him.
"He's not ODing anyway." His eyes dropped down to Ray's arms
and he could see the fresh track. Fraser followed his gaze, took Ray's
arm and tucked it in close to Ray's body. He hunched over Ray hoping
to transmit some of his heat, and gently rocked back and forth. Welsh
could hear a few words here and there, it sounded like a song.
Ray was cold and the white lay all around him. He didn't mind the cold,
he knew Fraser had to be close by. He'd said he wouldn't go. Then Ray
remembered he'd said he wouldn't let Ray go and Ray hoped that meant
the same thing.
"Fraser? Ben?" He felt himself lifted up in strong arms. He
looked up and he could see it was Ben carrying him. "Hey, put me
down, you'll hurt yourself." He squirmed a bit to communicate his
desire to be put down, but Fraser just pulled him in closer and continued
on. He hadn't been carried like this since he was maybe four and his
dad had lugged him up to bed and tucked him in. He found himself drifting
off as Fraser set a steady pace. Fraser was getting him out of here.
Fraser was taking him home.
The hospital was bathed in the sickly pale light that signified the quiet
of the third shift. Fraser sat in the chair next to Ray's bed, his elbows
on his knees, his head in his hands. His elbow slipped and he woke with
a start. Dim light, hospital room, Ray present and accounted for. He
let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He watched Ray's chest
fall and rise in a steady pattern. He was bruised and battered, both
wrists bandaged, and a new IV line was connecting him to fluids and antibiotics.
For all of that he looked beautiful to the Canadian. The skin on his
face was nearly translucent. It seemed a metaphor for the way Ray's spirit
had assumed a ghostly presence in the room, nudging at Fraser, nagging
him.
Ray was getting mighty sick of snow. He had never felt partial to the
color white and it seemed like that was all he'd been seeing for weeks.
The only thing that ever made the unending whiteness bearable was Fraser.
His voice, his hands, his warmth…His solid unperturbed energy. Where
was he? He thought about yelling Fraser's name, or reaching out, but
felt a curious reluctance. He poked at that reluctance. Oh yeah, fear.
He knew time was running out, that he might already have come to the
screen that flashes "GAME OVER." He was afraid of what he might
see if he opened his eyes. Fraser looking down at him, telling him Vecchio
was back, that the charade was over. Happy to have Vecchio back, safe
and sound. Happy to have things go back to the way things had been. Happy
to have his real partner back at his side. Happy to not have a damaged,
corroded partner to muddle through with. So better to be quiet in the
snow and not know. For a time he could pretend it wasn't game over and
he still had his place. His place with Fraser.
Welsh put his hand on Fraser's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "How's
he doing?"
"According to the nurses, all his vitals are stable and right now
he is sleeping peacefully."
"Funny, he don't look peaceful." Welsh walked over to Ray's
bed and laid his hand on the blonde's forehead. He stood there looking
down at the man who had come in an imposter and now seemed more real
than family. "I'll feel a hell of a lot better when we nail Landry."
Fraser nodded, too exhausted to explore the ramifications of Landry
still being at large.
Welsh turned from Ray and noticed the lines of fatigue on Fraser's face.
"Hey. Let's get you home. Ray is going to be fine. I've got two
of my men at his door, he isn't going anywhere tonight."
Fraser looked into the big man's eyes and was surprised to see the depth
of his concern. Nevertheless he shook his head no. "I don't think
I can leave right now, sir. Not that I doubt the efficiency of your men."
He added hastily. "I'll just stretch out on the floor, on the other
side of the bed, out of the way. I'll be fine, sir."
Welsh shook his head in disbelief while secretly glad whatever had been
holding his two men apart seemed to have been resolved. "Okay, but
I'll be back in the morning and you had better have slept, Constable."
Fraser settled himself in the small space between the bed and the wall.
It wasn't as comfortable as being on the ground but it was comfortable
enough. He was soon asleep.
Back up north again. The landscape beautiful in its barren glory. He
could see Ray lying in the snow, his arms outstretched as if he had fallen
asleep making angels. He walked over and knelt beside him.
"Ray… Ray, Ray, RAY!"
Ray's eyes flew open. "Yah? Wha..?" Fraser could see the confusion
in Ray's eyes as they darted around the snowfield. "Where is he?"
"Who Ray?"
"Ray."
"You're right here Ray."
"No, the real Ray."
"You are real, Ray."
"No!" Ray was getting frustrated and a little confused about
the whole thing. "Ray Vecchio, the real Ray Vecchio, dammit!"
"Ah. You're looking for Ray Vecchio."
"No, I am not "looking for" Ray Vecchio. He was here.
Where did he go?"
"He was never here Ray. There's only you here." Fraser brushed
some of the snow from Ray's hair.
"Where's here, Fraser? Just where the hell in the Northwest Passages
are we?"
"Northwest Territories." Fraser automatically corrected. "We
aren't in the Northwest Territories."
"Then in what part of the great frozen north are we?"
"We are…." Fraser looked around, surprised. "I don't
know where we are. I've never been here before. I believe it is uncharted."
"Uncharted? Like in you have no idea where we are, uncharted?"
Ray's voice was rising with panic.
"Well, Ray, I might not know exactly where on a map we are but I
know where we are."
Ray reached up and grabbed the Canadian by his lanyard and pulled him
in close. "Where are we?"
"We're home, Ray."
Ray came awake to a feathery touch on his arm. "Frash..er?"
His mouth was dry and he had a hard time getting his tongue to form words.
"Shhh."
*Shit, a feminine voice, not Fraser.*
"He's sleeping, let's try not to wake him." Ray opened his
eyes all the way and saw the nurse taking his blood pressure. He tried
to look around her to the chair to see Fraser, but the Mountie wasn't
there. He must have gone home to sleep. He tried to control the sorrow
that rose in his throat, threatening to choke him. He laid back and closed
his eyes.
"Would you like some water?"
He nodded and she brought him a glass with a straw in it. He took it
with hands that still trembled, and she held it for him. "Better?"
"Yeah, thanks." He closed his eyes and listened to her rustle
around the room. Soon the sounds stopped and he realized she had gone
on to the next patient. He let his eyes close and drifted back to the
dark.
Fraser awoke to soft sounds of distress. He scrambled to his feet to
see Ray sitting upright in bed, his arms tucked in around his middle,
shaking and letting out a low keening sound that tore at Fraser's soul.
He grasped Ray by the shoulders and pulled him to his chest, making vague
shushing sounds mixed with Inuit words of affection.
"Ray, I'm here. Ray…It's safe here. Can you hear me, Ray?
I've got you." He hugged the slight man closer, trying to get through
the fog of misery that enwrapped Ray. He put one arm around Ray's shoulders
and with his other hand he held Ray's head. "Ray. Look at me Ray.
Wake up."
Ray slowly opened his eyes to see Fraser sitting on his bed, his arm
wrapped around him and a hand in his hair. "Wha..what..Frase? Whadya
doing here? You're supposed to be home, sleeping."
"I was sleeping, Ray, next to your bed. You were having a nightmare."
"Oh yeah…" Ray curved his body closer to Fraser's, delighted
to feel his warmth and breathe in the clean smell of him. He tentatively
put his hand up to Fraser's face, wanting to see what the hair on his
face would feel like…he couldn't remember ever seeing Fraser anything
less than clean shaven. Before his hand reached Fraser's cheek he came
fully awake and stopped himself. What came over him? Fraser was here
being great, giving him comfort and he almost went and…he sat up,
pulling away from Fraser. "Ah, thanks for waking me up and for…being
here."
Fraser let Ray untangle himself from his embrace. He felt a little hollow
inside having space once again between them. He'd thought that Ray had
been going to touch him and his face had begun to tingle in anticipation.
He blushed.
Ray saw the blush. *Oh, Kowalski, you suck. The best friend you ever
had looks out for you and you try to make a move on him. He's mortified,
fer crying outloud.*
"Ray."
"Ben." They said, simultaneously.
"You first, Frase."
"Ray, I need to tell you something." Ray's stomach lurched
and tried to staunch the fear that rushed over him with those words.
*He's gonna say it, he is, he's gonna tell me we're through.*
"When I first met you I was taken aback. I wasn't expecting you."
"Yeah, I know, you were looking for your Ray." Ray said miserably.
"Well, that, too, but what I'm trying to say is I wasn't expecting
to feel the things I feel for you-I wasn't expecting to feel them with
anyone." Fraser paused, trying to find a way to say some of it without
scaring Ray.
Ray's head was bent down and he was intensely studying the blanket. Fraser
reached over and pulled his chin up. "Ray, when I thought I might
have lost you forever I realized I had to tell you how important you
are to me. How much I value our friendship." Ray's eyes came back
to life with that sentence and Fraser responded by pulling his head toward
him and kissing him on the forehead.
"I love you, Ray." Ray pulled away to stare in surprise at
Fraser. He raised his eyebrows in question. Fraser solemnly nodded his
head yes.
"And I you, Fraser."
Ray could see Fraser and Dief waiting outside the glass doors. He stopped
and adjusted his overnight bag on his shoulder. Fraser kept his eyes
on Ray, afraid to blink and have Ray take a right turn and leave his
sight. It had been three weeks since Ray had come to this place and policy
had not allowed anyone to see Ray in all that time. He looked…good.
He'd gained back some weight. He was fiddling with his strap now and
Fraser had to still the impulse to storm the door and whisk him out
of there. Now he was coming Fraser's way again, his step slower than
it had been. He looked up at Fraser and Fraser could see unexpected shyness
in his eyes. Ray looked down at his feet and seemed to be going slower
and slower, until finally he was at the door. He looked up then and looked
into Fraser's eyes. Fraser held steady, knowing Ray was realigning himself
with the outside world and with Fraser. Ray put a hand on the door, fingers
spread, as if to push the door open, but he didn't. Fraser put his own
hand up to match Ray's and leaned in and smiled. He mouthed a silent
phrase and Ray looked surprised and the his face lit with that incandescent
smile. Fraser swung the door open and grabbed him and folded Ray into
a hug, much like the first one Ray had given him. Dief jumped up, trying
to make it a group hug and Ray reached down and rubbed along the sides
of Dief's nose.
"Free to come to dinner, Ray?"
"Oh, yeah, I am most definitely free, Benton-buddy. Let's hit the
trail."
Feedback needed and welcomed.
E-mail me @ Calista Echo