Author's disclaimer: They belong to Allliance

Author's notes: Hello. So this is the follow up to Learning to Listen, and guess what? There'll be at least one more part.

TYK to everybody who let me know what they thought of the first bit - I know I put them in horrible situations, but I always get them out again, don't I?!

Hope you like this one. Let me know.

Thanks are due again to Ruthie and Linda for their kind words and suggestions. Mistakes and otters are mine.

I'm not very good at rating things, so I made this one an R just because of the subject matter - I don't think there's anything in here to offend your maiden aunt.

BREAKING THE SILENCE

Ray slammed the bedroom door and stood with his back against it as if he was physically trying to keep Fraser out. There was silence outside for a few moments and then Ray heard the front door open and close softly.

Everything was very quiet. Just the distant sound of the neighbours' televisions, and the traffic sweeping by outside. He felt empty inside, cold and shut off from the world around him; he had felt like this since the attack, and he didn't know how to make the feelings go away. He didn't think he would ever be warm again.

Slowly sliding down the door Ray huddled on the floor, wrapping his arms around his drawn up knees, staring at the bed. The last time he had been in that bed had been with Fraser and he had felt loved and safe and needed; now he couldn't bear the thought of anyone touching him. Fraser had touched him a lot, both in the hospital and since they had come back to the apartment and it had been all Ray could do to not scream at him

He sat there for perhaps 10 minutes, still looking at the bed, but then his injured body began to protest, so he straightened out his legs, breathing a little more easily. Unconsciously he put his hands over his stomach, protecting the tender bruised flesh there.

"What the fuck am I gonna do?" he asked aloud. "It hurts so much."

The telephone ringing startled him out of his thoughts and he pulled himself to his feet and went to answer it. It was Lieutenant Welsh.

"Ray," said the gruff voice. "Just checking to see how you're doing." When Ray stayed silent, Welsh said "So, how are you doing?"

"I'm good, Lieutenant," answered Ray. "I was just going to bed."

"Is the Constable with you?" asked Harding.

"Yeah," Ray lied easily. "He's just having a shower."

"Okay. Listen, if you need anything you just let me know, okay? You've got my home number. Just call."

"Okay. Thanks." Ray put the phone down and then leaned down and unplugged it from the socket. He did the same with the one in the living room. Then he double locked the door and lay down on the couch waiting for the morning.

Fraser and Diefenbaker walked down to the lake, Diefenbaker revelling in the unexpected exercise, Fraser staring at nothing and thinking of everything. His mind was a whirl of guilt and self- recrimination. //If only I had listened to him; if only I had been on time; if only....//

Fraser scrubbed his hands over his face and looked around. Why was it that when he needed him his father was conspicuous by his absence?

"Just like when I was a child," he muttered to himself.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Obviously offended, his father stood just behind Fraser.

"What I said," snapped Fraser. "You were never there when I needed you as a child. Why did I expect for a minute that you would have changed?"

"Well like father, like son," replied Bob Fraser. "Perhaps if you had been there when the Yank needed you.... Don't you think that perhaps he needs you now?"

"He's the one who told me to leave," said Fraser. "He doesn't want me around."

"Oh, poppycock!" snapped the older man. "You are so blind sometimes. He needs you, or he needs somebody, quite desperately. He's a mass of pain inside and you are so wrapped up in your guilt that you haven't noticed."

"I think I have noticed," replied Fraser angrily. "But what exactly am I supposed to do if he tells me to leave and won't even let me near him?"

"You be there for him," was all his father said. "When he reaches out for you, you make sure that you're there, not meandering around this lake in the middle of the night."

"I am not meandering," protested Fraser. "I am taking Dief for a walk."

A very Kowalski-like snort was the only reply, and when Fraser looked again he was alone.

For all his father was annoyance personified, sometimes he could be right, and Fraser waved at Dief until he had the wolf's attention and then began the long walk back to Ray's apartment. He stopped, shocked. Ray's apartment. It was only a few days ago that Ray himself had called it 'ours'. But that had been before...

He made his way blindly through the streets until he was outside the building. There were no lights on, so hopefully Ray was asleep. Ray needed to sleep. It would help him heal.

Diefenbaker was standing patiently by the door to the building, waiting for his human to let him in. He didn't understand what had happened, but he knew when his packmates were angry with each other. But if the alpha just had a bit more sense he would be able to smell the fear and the desperation as well. Sometimes, alphas were just that little bit more stupid than betas...

Fraser shook his head at the wolf. "Come on Dief. Not tonight."

Dief huffed and stayed where he was, looking at Fraser.

"What?" said Fraser. "Do you think we should see if he's all right? What if he's asleep?"

Dief chose to implement his selective deafness and looked fixedly at the door.

Thinking back to what his father had said, Fraser took a deep breath, took out his key and opened the door.

Once upstairs, Fraser knocked softly on the apartment door. He knew better than to use his key here. Getting into the building was one thing; entering Ray's apartment quite another.

"What?" said a quiet voice from the other side of the door.

"Ray? Please open the door," said Fraser. "I need to talk to you."

"Well I don't wanna talk to you," answered Ray. "Jesus, why won't you take a hint?"

"I want to help you Ray, if I can," said Fraser. "Please open the door. I don't want to disturb the neighbours."

"Well go away then," Ray sounded tired and petulant.

"Could I could I leave Diefenbaker here with you tonight?" asked Fraser desperately. "Even if you won't see me, at least let him stay with you."

There was the sound of the door being unlocked, then it opened a few inches, just enough for Fraser to see Ray's tired, defeated face.

"Why should I let him in? That just gives you a reason to come back," said Ray.

Fraser just stopped himself reaching out a hand to touch that weary face.

"It's not that Ray. I would feel better knowing you weren't alone."

"Oh and a deaf wolf would make * all * the difference," said Ray sarcastically.

"Please Ray -," Fraser stopped, not knowing what else to say. Ray had built a wall around himself and Fraser didn't know how to break through; not yet. Perhaps if he was the kind of person who worked on instinct, he would have more of a chance.

Ray must have seen something in Fraser's face, or perhaps his own instincts were working, because he opened the door a little wider and let the wolf slip into the apartment.

"Okay," he said. "For your sake." He paused, then unable to help himself, said, "You going back to the Consulate tonight?"

"Yes, I thought that would be best," answered Fraser.

"Okay," Ray said again. "Well, g'night." He began to close the door.

"Ray..." This time Fraser did reach out a hand, but Ray pulled back out of reach.

"No Frase. I can't. Not yet."

He closed the door, and Fraser heard the sound of the double lock clicking on.

He rested his head against the apartment door for a moment, then walked slowly away.

He would stay at the Consulate tonight and perhaps tomorrow, after they had both had some rest, they could talk about it and try and save what they had. Ray had said 'not yet.' He hadn't said 'never'. It was tenuous, but it was a glimmer of light.

When Fraser walked into the precinct the next day he was called into the Lieutenant's office immediately.

"Constable," said Welsh, "how is he?"

"A little edgy, sir," said Fraser wincing inwardly. While not exactly a lie, it certainly wasn't the truth.

"His phone doesn't seem to be working," said Welsh. "Was it okay when you left this morning?"

"Not working?" asked Fraser. "What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know, Constable. I'm not a telephone repairman. "Was it okay this morning?"

Fraser looked at the Lieutenant and knew he couldn't hide the truth. "I don't know," he said. "I didn't stay there last night."

"What? I called the little bastard and he told me that you were in the shower. Has he been by himself all night?"

"I left Diefenbaker with him," answered Fraser. "I'll go over there right now, if you'll excuse me."

"Diefenbaker... Why... No, I don't wanna know. I'm coming with you," said Welsh. "I need to tell him how the investigation's going. We'll take my car."

Fraser nodded and the two men left the precinct and drove the short distance to Ray's apartment. When they knocked on the door there was silence.

Welsh knocked again. "Ray! Come on, open up. It's me and Fraser." Still no answer

"Constable," said Welsh, "Do you have a key?"

"Well yes sir, but I think he has double locked the door...."

"Well, we're just going to have to use our initiative, yes?" Fraser nodded.

"Okay then," said Welsh. He hammered on the door again.

"Kowalski!" shouted the Lieutenant. "If you don't open this fucking door in the next thirty seconds, you will have ventilation you never expected. Understand?"

After a short delay there was the sound of the lock being turned, but the door didn't open. Glancing at the Lieutenant, Fraser tried his key and this time it worked. The two men entered cautiously, not knowing what to expect.

Ray was lying on the couch, one arm across his eyes. He didn't acknowledge the two men at all.

"Ray?" said Fraser cautiously, approaching the couch. Ray's whole body tensed and Fraser stopped in his tracks.

Diefenbaker appeared from the kitchen and briefly nuzzled Fraser's hand before going to sit close to Ray.

"What do you want?" Ray asked. It came out in a monotone. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

"We can't do that Detective as well you know," said Welsh gruffly. "I need to talk to you about the investigation..."

Ray moved his arm and looked at Welsh. "No!" he said. "Don't. I don't want those people caught, don't you understand? I don't care. I can't go to court anyway because I'm not who everybody thinks I am. Why can't you just leave it?"

"Ray, don't you want justice?" asked Fraser softly, still standing in the middle of the room. Ray's eyes flickered briefly to him and then back to Welsh.

"No," he said. "I don't want justice. I want to be left alone." He sat up slowly, every muscle in his body protesting, and then pushed himself onto his feet.

"I just want you to go, please," he said softly. "I'll be fine, but I need to be by myself."

"Ray..." Fraser stepped forward. Ray's eyes snapped to him.

"Not you!" he said. "I don't want you. I don't want anybody. Just get away from me."

Welsh, surprised by the tone of Ray's voice, put a consoling hand on the detective's arm. Ray pulled back as if he had been scalded.

"Don't!" he said. "Don't touch me. Just go away. Please."

Welsh and Fraser looked at each other, shocked.

"Please," Ray said again, looking at the floor, arms folded around himself.

"Okay, we'll go," said Welsh. "But you plug your phone in and you speak to us, do you understand? You can't do this alone and we want to help."

Ray didn't speak but he nodded slightly and the two men had to be satisfied with that.

As they left the apartment Fraser paused. "Ray..." he said again.

Ray held up one hand. "No Fraser," he said. "Not right now, okay? I can't deal." He looked at Fraser who took an involuntary step forward when he saw the pain in the other man's eyes.

"Please Fraser," said Ray, "Just leave me alone." He looked at Diefenbaker. "Take your wolf, okay? He needs exercise."

"I'd like it if he could stay with you, Ray."

"Frase, I'm not going to do anything stupid. Thanks for the loan, but he needs exercise. He needs you."

"But..."

"No, Fraser!" Ray's patience was wearing thin. "Just take him."

Diefenbaker made the decision for them both by trotting out of the apartment. Ray was right; he needed exercising.

When the two men had gone, Ray double locked the door behind them. He plugged the phone in and switched the machine on. He had promised he would plug it in but he didn't intend to answer it.

The pain was no better. He had stayed on the couch the whole night, staring at nothing. Every time he closed his eyes all he saw was Fraser; Fraser's guilt at what had happened; Fraser begging him for forgiveness. And he couldn't. Just now, Ray couldn't forgive him and it was tearing him apart. He knew that in Fraser he had found the one good thing in his life, but he couldn't forgive him for not helping him; for not being there when he was needed. For being unharmed.

The telephone rang, but he stayed where he was, letting the machine take it. It was the counselling service the police department wanted him to use. No way. No way was he letting some shrink inside his head. They'd take one look around and run screaming from the room anyway.

He thought vaguely about getting something to eat, taking a shower. In the end he went and lay on the couch again. It was easier to just lie there and not think.

When Ray woke, it was dark again. Without meaning to he had slept the day through. Getting groggily to his feet he went towards the bathroom, checking the answering machine as he went past. There were seven messages.

Ray shook his head and went into the bathroom, removing his t-shirt as he went. He stood in front of the mirror and surveyed his upper body, swinging around so that he could see his back as well. He was still a mass of bruises some fading towards yellow, but most still a glorious purple. His eyes were beginning to calm down and a lot of the swelling around his nose had subsided. He could see himself again instead of the swollen up grotesque version which had been looking at him for the past week.

Kicking off his jeans, he sat on the floor and studied the lower part of his body. Not so bad. A few bruises on his legs which were almost gone. He ran his hands over his hips and sucked in a breath. No, he wouldn't think about the bruises there he could see the finger marks where his hips had been held hard...

Suddenly he crawled over to the toilet and was violently sick. Unfortunately there was nothing to bring up and the dry heaves hurt his bruised ribs until tears of pain were running down his face.

When he could, he sat against the wall resting his head against the cool tiles, his knees pulled up and his hands cradling his sides.

He sat there until a hammering at the door startled him out of his daze. Slipping the jeans and t-shirt back on he went to see who was there.

"Who is it?" he said quietly, not willing to just open the door.

"It's me, Ray. Open up willya?" Ray sighed and did as he was told.

Lieutenant Welsh stood there, glaring at Ray as if he had committed some crime.

"Jesus, Detective! Don't you ever answer the phone?" Then he took a close look at Ray. "What's the matter? You look like shit."

"Thanks Lieutenant," said Ray. "I've been asleep. Just woke up."

"Oh. Okay. Well can I come in or will we have this conversation on the doorstep?" asked Welsh.

Ray waved his hand and closed the door after Welsh, who didn't fail to notice that Ray double locked it.

"So how's it going?" asked Welsh.

"It's going," answered Ray, sitting down carefully.

Welsh sucked in a deep breath and got straight to the point.

"Listen, I've had a depressed Mountie hanging around the precinct all day. You won't return his calls - ," Welsh looked at the still flashing machine.

"I haven't listened to the messages," said Ray defensively. "I told you, I been asleep."

"And if you had listened to them would you have answered them?" asked Welsh.

"No," was all Ray said.

Welsh sat down too and studied the detective. Physically things seemed to be getting better, but the spark that made Ray the annoying bastard he undoubtedly was had gone. His eyes were completely dead.

"Ray, it's nobody's fault, what happened," began Welsh. "It was just bad luck."

"Yeah, well that's me," said Ray bitterly. "I might as well walk around with 'loser' tattooed on my forehead, that way nobody else would get hurt."

"Look, you have a lot of friends in the department," said Welsh. "People who want to help you."

"I don't need their help. I don't need anybody's help!" Ray stood up suddenly and began to pace the apartment. He kept one hand on his ribs, Welsh noticed.

"Look," continued Ray. "Can we just get this over now please? I don't want any help. I don't want you to investigate this. I don't want to see anybody. And I do * not * want Fraser anywhere near me."

"Why?" asked Welsh. "You can't blame him, Ray.

Ray stopped his pacing. "I don't think I do blame him, not really," he said. "But every time I see him I remember what happened... and all I want to do is forget."

"This is killing him, Ray," said Welsh softly.

"Yeah? Well it's a shame it never killed me," snapped Ray. "When it was happening I thought I wanted to live through it, wanted to get away. Now I'm not so sure."

Lieutenant Welsh left Ray's apartment shortly afterwards and climbed into his car.

"I'm sorry," he said to the man sitting quietly in the passenger seat. "He doesn't want to see anybody."

Fraser nodded, one hand over his mouth.

"Are you okay?" asked Welsh.

"Could I trouble you for a lift back to the Consulate?" asked Fraser neutrally.

Welsh nodded and started the car, sighing. Ideally he would like to smack the two men's heads together, but they were both so thick skulled it probably wouldn't have the desired effect.

The journey to the Consulate only took twenty minutes. Fraser climbed out of the car and thanked the Lieutenant, before entering the building and locking the door behind him.

He went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea. He put the cup on the table and sat in front of it. Then he put his hands over his face and began to cry.

Ray was cold again. He could never get warm now. He missed Fraser's presence beside him as he lay in bed, the blankets wrapped tightly around him. He wouldn't sleep, he knew. He had slept all day and even though he was still tired, his mind was whirling.

//This is killing him//

"Oh Frase," he whispered into the dark.

Almost without realising it his hand went to the phone at the side of the bed. This had to be done.

Fraser picked up the phone at the Consulate after only 3 rings. He hadn't been sleeping either.

"Hi Frase," said Ray softly.

"Ray?" Fraser breathed the name, not knowing whether he was asleep. "Ray, is everything all right?"

"Well no Frase. That's kind of a dumb thing to ask."

"My apologies. Do you need something?"

"Yeah. I Could you come over here?" asked Ray. "I think we gotta talk, yeah?"

"If you're sure, Ray," said Fraser, hardly daring to breathe.

"I'm not sure of anything any more. Come over, okay?"

"Okay."

Ray put the phone down and burrowed back under the blankets. Then he remembered something and went to release the double lock on the front door.

Fraser stood outside the apartment door, not sure whether to knock or try his key. Not so long ago this had been his home, but now he didn't know.

Diefenbaker took the argument out of his hands by standing on his hind legs and scrabbling at the wood.

"Dief, stop it," whispered Fraser. "You'll ruin the door and we'll have to replace it."

*Well open it, idiot. *

Shooting the wolf a disgusted look, Fraser reached into his pocket and pulled out the key. The door opened and he made his way into the apartment. It was very quiet and still with just a faint light coming out of the half closed bedroom door.

"Ray?" Fraser's voice sounded loud in the stillness.

"In here," Ray answered softly. Fraser made his way to the bedroom door and pushed it open.

Ray was in bed, propped against the pillows, the blankets pulled tightly around his shoulders. Fraser wanted to run forward and hug him; he looked tired and thin, beaten down.

"Thanks for coming," he said.

"Didn't have anywhere else to be," Fraser answered.

Ray half smiled as Diefenbaker jumped on the bed with him, kissing him firmly under the chin. He pulled gently on the wolf's fur, then pushed him away. Dief climbed off the bed and sat in a corner of the room watching his two packmates, trying to understand.

"Ray," said Fraser. "I can't just walk away from you, you know that. Surely we can get through what's happened? I know it sounds insufficient when I say it, but I am truly sorry for what happened to you. But I am begging you not to shut me out."

Ray sighed. There was no sign of temper now. He seemed quiet and whilst not relaxed, at least not as tightly wound as he had been recently.

"Fraser, it's not it's not about you being sorry for what happened. I * know * you're sorry. But you weren't there when you should have been; you didn't listen to me and I paid for that, and that's not fair. What happens to you? Nothing. What happens to me?" Ray stopped and swallowed, not able to continue.

Greatly daring Fraser stepped forward and put his hand on Ray's leg. Ray pulled away and turned over in bed, his back to Fraser.

"Don't," he said quietly. "Just - don't - okay?"

Without even knowing what he was doing, Fraser dropped to his knees by the bed, suddenly desperate.

"Please," he said. "Oh Ray, whatever you want me to do, I'll do, you know I will. Do you want me track down those men and bring them to justice? Because I will. Do you want me to beg you on my knees to forgive me? Well, I am doing that now. Please tell me what it is you want me to do, and I swear to you that I will, just don't do this to me anymore. Don't shut me out like this. Please talk to me..." Fraser stopped himself from going any further simply by putting his hand over his mouth. He wanted to throw himself at Ray, shake him, slap him, anything to make him react. He wanted to take this hurting man in his arms and never let go.

He put both hands over his face, feeling old and tired. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm sorry for not being there; for not listening; for not loving you enough. For not being what you deserve."

Ray lay still, not speaking, and Fraser didn't have the strength to move from his position on the floor. Minutes passed in complete silence, then so softly that even Fraser's sharp ears almost missed it, Ray said, "Why weren't you there?"

He sounded so alone, so lost that without thinking Fraser put his hand on Ray's shoulder. He felt the trembling, and in that moment he hated himself more than he would ever have thought possible.

"Ray," he said quietly, "I promise you that I will never let you down again."

Ray turned his head into the pillow and began to cry, silent tears of absolute despair.

"No, Ray. Oh no!"

Fraser pulled himself onto his feet and made his way around to the other side of the bed. He gathered Ray's unprotesting form into his arms and held him tight. Ray buried his face in Fraser's shirt and cried out his hurt, fear and humiliation. Fraser held him, one hand stroking through the disordered hair, murmuring nonsense, just trying to calm Ray down.

"Why weren't you there?" Ray sobbed. "I was so scared. I thought I was gonna die. I hated you for not being there."

"I wish I had been there," soothed Fraser. "I wish it had happened to me, not you."

"No!" Ray buried his face deeper in Fraser's chest, hands twisting in the warm cotton of Fraser's shirt. "No. Don't ever say that, ever. It would kill me if anything happened to you."

"Don't you think I feel the same, Ray?" asked Fraser, stroking Ray's back in long soothing strokes.

Ray didn't answer, so, greatly daring, Fraser turned his head and kissed Ray's ear, the only part he could reach. Ray's breathing hitched in his chest, but he still didn't speak. Slowly though his hands began to relax their hold on Fraser's shirt and the tears began to subside.

Eventually he pulled away slightly and sniffed noisily. He wiped at the wet patch on Fraser's shirt and smiled shakily.

"Made a mess of your shirt there, Frase. Sorry." He looked up at Fraser and put one hand on the other man's face. "Sorry," he said again.

Fraser knew that the apology wasn't just for the shirt, but he chose to pretend that it was.

"It's fine," he said. "It'll be fine."

"Will it?" asked Ray. "Will it really be fine?"

"Yes it will," answered Fraser firmly. "Now come on, you're tired, you need to sleep." He eased away from Ray and settled the smaller man into bed, tucking the covers around him like a concerned parent, making Ray smile again.

Fraser knelt by the side of the bed, stroking the blond hair until Ray's eyes closed and he fell asleep, then very softly he eased himself backwards and knelt, just watching.

He didn't know how long he sat like that before Ray stirred and opened his eyes. Seeing Fraser, he held out a hand.

"Come to bed Frase. It's cold."

"Are you sure, Ray?" asked Fraser. Ray nodded.

Quickly stripping down to just his boxers, Fraser slipped into the bed next to Ray. He felt Ray's body tense but just as quickly relax as Fraser gently spooned around him, careful of still healing injuries. He put one hand on Ray's chest and smiled as Ray put his own hand up to cover it.

"I do love you, you know," Ray said softly into the dark. "It's just that for a while there I didn't like you very much."

Fraser lowered his head and kissed the back of Ray's head. Ray flinched slightly, but when Fraser murmured to him, he relaxed again.

"We're here now," said Fraser quietly. "We'll be okay."

Ray burrowed back against the Mountie, revelling in the warmth and solidity of the body behind him. He didn't want to lose this; would try his hardest to keep it, but at the moment whatever it was they had felt as fragile as a butterfly's wing. They had a long struggle ahead of them.

THE END