This story was inspired by Hsu-Lyn Yap's Remembrance of Things Past. It's good, go read it! This story, however, is my take of what happened afterwards. Whatever you like, or don't like, e-mail me about, okay? wellplaypeoria@hotmail.com
Warning: M/M. rated R. Contains steam, moderately strong language, and mature themes. Lots of angst, and some other stuff I don't want to spoil.
Ostensibly, Benton Fraser had his life back. He was again in Canada, posted where he could make use of his father's cabin. He'd had meant to rebuild it earlier; he had actually managed once to come up long enough to make some temporary repairs, after that ill fated trip. When he had returned six months ago, that was how he had spent his time when not at work. Now, it was finished. Just like his life.
Ten months ago he'd lost it, senselessly in Chicago. So even though he had made Corporal, and was again maintaining the right the way he was meant to, he was hollow inside. *Blown apart. My heart ripped out.* Only two things kept him functioning. His duty. And the knowledge, that while Ray, his Ray, was gone, Ray Vecchio still lived. As hard as it was, though his former lover didn't remember, he'd made him a promise once. *'In case I should die, I want you to deliver the eulogy.'* "I'll live for you Ray. Even though without you I'm already dead."
He moved around the small cabin, again the way it had been. Not quite. Two changes had been made. One was the fireplace in the main room. His father had never gotten around to doing that, though it had been mentioned off and on most of Ben's years. At one time it was the difficulty of getting brick up that far. Then, for a long time, the man saw no sense in it. The reason had passed.
Later, lack of time had prevented him, until he was killed. The other change had increased the small cabin's size by nearly a third. Ben hadn't realized what he was doing, or why. It wasn't like he needed more space. He found he'd even put another fireplace in the addition, rather larger than the space warranted.
"Oh, G-d!" Ray awoke. When he could think, he knew it was the same dream. He could never remember anything about it, though he wasn't in doubt what had happened. The condition of his linens, not to mention the fuzzy feeling he had when he woke made that unmistakable. *Sex dreams. Incredibly hot, erotic sex dreams.* For the last three months, he'd been having them. At first, he thought it was his lack of a social life. It wasn't like he wasn't dating, because he was, just that there never seemed to be any chemistry. A few times, he'd even gone up to their place, only to realize he wasn't interested. Not his body, but his mind; they'd get to a certain point and he'd find some reason to leave. *Like some schoolgirl under the bleachers or in a back seat.*
"Might as well get up and take a shower." Something was very wrong, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. It wasn't something he could talk about. Admit he wasn't getting any action? That he'd turned into a terrible tease? That some dream was taking over his nights? *Right, like you need that, Vecchio.* As he lathered up, he realized he missed the friend he didn't remember. An interesting person, Benny. Supposedly they had been best friends. According to what he was told, Fraser and he had been through a lot. He remembered them, but not Benny. *He'd have been able to help. Tell me some Inuit story, some way to remember the dream.* Wouldn't have told him what sort of dreams, of course. Fraser at least wouldn't ask. *Not jump to conclusions.*
Ray just knew he was in Canada; he was a Mountie and he'd been recalled home. Hadn't heard from him in the six months he was gone. *Do they send mail out of Tuktoyaktuck?* Actually, he wasn't sure if that was where he was. No address was left; he'd made everyone promise not to see him off at the airport. *Surprised he'd let me drive him.* Would he have taken a cab? Walked? *Right, like anyone walks to or from O'hare.* Must be glad to be back though. Couldn't have been easy for him in Chicago, little real work for him to do. Ray could see the man's sadness. *If only I could remember.*
He'd picked up his mail today, expecting just his newspapers. They came every two weeks, and he rationed them carefully. But in addition to the Chicago Tribune subscription, there had been a large box. *Open it. Stop staring at it and open it.* Inside, was, well, it was a care package. He'd never gotten one before, but he'd seen others get them, while he was at the Depot and then on various postings. There was no letter; but the contents told him everything. Homecanned jars of pasta sauce. A recipe book. Dief's favorite cookies. 'Caro mio figlio.' He put the things away; eventually, he'd use the sauce. Now, it just was too hard. The smell of it would take him back. The papers were enough.
The first month, he only read the weather section and the sports page, setting aside the rest. Gradually, he got to where he could read the whole paper. Last month he had finished going through the backlogged papers. That was the only thing he kept in the addition. One day he realized why he had built the new room. *The bathroom Ray always wanted.* Not that it was a bathroom; there were no fixtures. Subconsciously, Ben had thought Ray might come up sometime. Forgetting his lover wasn't his anymore. He couldn't get that back; when Ray lost his memory, of Benton Fraser, they'd never be the same. He got out two of the cookies, giving one, and then the other to Dief.
Ray was slumped over his desk, trying to focus on the file open in front of him. *I've got to get more sleep.* He was more and more waking up a couple times a night, and rarely did he get a whole night's sleep. He still went out, but never more than dinner and a movie. *What is wrong with me?* At the station, everyone seemed to give him a wide berth. Welsh didn't so much yell at him about his cases as coaxed and prodded. Sometimes Jack, and other times Elaine, would sit at the empty chair by his desk. There was this look of sadness he would sometimes catch in their eyes; once or twice he thought he saw something like it in Welsh.
*Drive. I need a little drive to clear my head* Every so often he would do this. Wasn't sure why. He'd end up going by the Canadian Consulate; ocassionally he'd stop for a minute or two. *Is that the Dragonlady looking out?* He recognized the man on guard duty as Constable Turnbull. He pulled away. Never noticing the slight following glance.
"I've got to figure out what is the matter with me. I can't take these dreams anymore, I don't know why I can't get close to a real woman, and I want to know why everyone looks..." He really wasn't sure what they looked like. His ma spent alot of time at church, or praying in her room. Everyone was too damn nice to him. *Am I dying and no one bothered to tell me?* Is someone else dying? Why would that change how they acted towards him? "I don't understand any of this." Pulling back up at the station, he tried to throw himself into his work.
Fraser lived by his routines. He spent as much time as possible working. If that didn't take up enough of his weeks, he'd set out with his sled team. Otherwise, he'd sit in the cabin, and read the paper or his father's journals. Besides his fellow officers, and people he came into contact with during his duties, he only saw the postmistress and the clerk at the general store. Well, he saw other people, but didn't speak to them, outside of bringing to attention they had forgotten some laundry in a machine, or the like. He supposed that he should visit Eric someday.
Ray realized he'd been dreaming. *Thank G-d not one of those dreams.* He'd dozed off on stake-out, with Jack sitting beside him. This one he remembered. He was dancing with a tall woman. Not a very interesting dream, but it was nice. *Disco.* It didn't look like a disco though. Looked familar, what was it? *Crepe paper.* Yeah, that was familar alright. How many dances in the school gym did you go to? But it was strange, because this wasn't reliving some high school moment. It didn't look like a Reunion. *Chaperones.* That made sense, but why would he dream about being a chaperone? He'd never be a chaperone; not until his sister's kids were much older anyway. Even then, it still wasn't very likely. *Only teachers chaperone.*
A light went off in his head. *What if that wasn't a dream but a memory?* He wasn't sure if he'd gotten them all back; the ones other than Benny. How do you lose your best friend, and still remember so much around him? *If it is a memory, who might she be? A teacher I suppose, was I ever dating a teacher?* He couldn't remember that, it didn't even seem like something he would do. But the woman in the dream was certainly nice enough. What if he hadn't met her yet? *Great, Vecchio. That's real good.* Still, in a way, maybe it made sense. What if this was the one, and he screwed it up by being with someone else when she came along? It made at least as much sense as anything else in his life right now.
*How would I meet a teacher though?* Well, it wasn't like they weren't people, hard though that was to believe when he was in school. *Wait, I know a teacher.* Right, Anne taught at a girls' school. Not all of the teachers were nuns, these days. *So, I'll go catch up with Sister Anne. What, and hope this mystery woman shows up?*
In the end it was the best he could come up with. If it was a premonition or whatever, it wasn't impossible that he might just happen to run into her. So here he was, entering a girls' school to talk to a nun, hoping she'd find him a woman. "Anne. How's things going? Girls still being naughty?"
"Boys haven't changed that much since we were kids. Mostly they're good though. Is this a social call, or should I be worried?"
"What, like I can't just visit?"
"You never have before. Last time I saw you, I had a run-away student."
Ray couldn't remember that. *Maybe I know this woman. Maybe it is a memory.* "Actually, Anne, I lost my memory awhile ago. I thought I had gotten just about everything back, but I don't recall a run-away."
"If I wasn't a nun, I'd think that was a new pick-up line. You really don't remember?"
"No. Though maybe some is coming back. Was I at a dance, here?"
"Yes. You don't remember the secret gangster cache?"
"Nothing. All I remember is dancing with a woman in blue. Tall. Think there would be any pictures? Because I think this might be real important."
He barely slept anymore. When he slept, he dreamed. They always ended the same, leaving him crushed after so much happiness. *Ray, I'll never forget you, but it hurts so bad to remember.*
He'd really thought he had something there, when he first saw the picture. It was the woman from his dream, and they looked like they were having a good time. He was glad he hadn't said anything. *I can see why Benny didn't tell me about that case. Places changed, I wouldn't have told him I went undercover as a woman.* Still, it did give him hope. If he could get back one memory, surely others would start coming into place.
Because he really wanted to remember. He'd never had a best friend before, though from what he was told, he and Benny had been the very best friends any two men could be. *I want that back.* Even with the Mountie back home, Ray wanted to at least have his past. *Can you miss someone you barely know?*
Clearly, he could, otherwise he wouldn't be on a plane heading to Canada. He thought, when he went into Welsh's office, maybe he could get some time off in a month or so. Knowing it all sounded pretty stupid, he had worked up a big speech; he only got out a sentence, before he was told to take it right away. 'Just check in with me in a week. They have phones up there? If not, send a telegram.' When he told Elaine, she had gotten him onto a flight that very afternoon. Twelve hours after he'd left for work, he was sitting in a plane wearing more sweaters than he thought possible, with just two pieces of luggage and a heavy coat.
*I really haven't thought this out.* He was sitting in what had to be the smallest sandwich shop in all of North America. Two booths and three counter seats. *I don't even know where the cabin is, much less how to get there.* "Eric!" Ray had rarely been so happy to see a familar face. It took awhile for him to get the man to come over. "Eric, it's Ray Vecchio. Would you know a Benton Fraser? He's a Mountie. Let me guess, that's how I know you; could you tell me how to get to his father's cabin?"
Next thing he knew, he was standing on the front stoop, knocking. *What am I going to say?* He started to open his mouth in reply to the answered door, but no words came out. Benny, the friend he couldn't remember, was standing in a hastily pulled on shirt, toweling his hair. Ray tried to speak. Then he found his mouth taking over but his brain was gone.
Part of him wondered when Fraser would hit him. The rest of him was too busy feeling how good kissing those lips felt to care. His tongue ran along the smoothness, finding the teeth inside. When his mouth was filled by a hot searching tongue, he hoped it would never end.
He was being held the slightest bit away. *Breathe.* "Shouldn't you close the door?" *What did I just do; I mean, I've never done anything like that, ever.* Ray didn't particularly care; as long as that wasn't the last. He looked at the Mountie, wondering how he was going to react. The way he was standing, leaning against the now closed door, scared him. "Um, do you think you could help me out of these? Unless I should leave, which I'd understand."
*Now, he throws me into the snow.* The thought scarcely had time to form as Fraser turned from the door and flew over to where Ray was standing, grabbing him by the parka. Instead of being dragged to the door and hurled outside, Ray found the coat and then the jacket underneath being unzipped and unsnapped and pushed off his arms. *Oh G-d! Don't ever stop.* Even through the six or seven layers he was still wearing, he was nearly driven crazy by the hands roaming over his back. Or was it by the hungry mouth searching out every corner of his own? Wrapping his arms around the Mountie, he moved his hands around the lower back, pulling on the hanging shirt tail, finding bare flesh, hot and slightly damp. *He must have been taking a bath.*
"Ray!" It was all he could say; he was too ecstatic, too filled with emotion to find any other words. His life had come back, and he needed Ray so desperately. He worked his lips along the stubbly jaw, back to the smooth skin behind the right ear, lapping around and then darting his tongue into the ear itself. Then he kissed his way down as much neck as was avalible, across the Adam's apple, and back up the other side. There, he covered the ear with his mouth, tracing his tongue along the edge.
*Oh G-d!* Thought wasn't within Ray's capacity; keeping his hands moving across the broad back his only volition. All he knew, was whatever was happening, it felt so damn good. He didn't care he was holding and being held by a man. Nothing mattered at all. "Benny." His legs couldn't support him.
He felt Ray slipping, and pulled him in tighter. He'd been incredibly foolish. His lover probably was overheating, with all those clothes. When did he eat last? He moved over to a low bench, sitting the lighter man down, straddling the bench so he could support Ray's back while getting a few more layers of clothing off. "I've missed you so much." He nuzzled in, leaning Ray into his chest. He wanted to say more, but that was all that would come.
Now, he was trembling. His brain had come back, and things were crashing into place. He'd just meant to get his memories back of his best friend, and instead he kissed him. *Throughly enjoyed it, too.* Moreover, the Canadian didn't throw him into the snow, but took him into his arms. "You smell good. Do you always smell this good?" The part of his mind that should have been screaming at him was oddly silent.
"Ray, what's wrong? You're shaking; too cold for you?" Real smart, take off too many of his clothes. "You should have called the post. I could have brought in some real provisions; as it is, all I have is rice and carribou. Not that I mind this kind of surprise." Benton draped a couple of the sweaters he had just shucked off back over Ray, enfolding him in both arms.
"Benny, I brought food. I don't know what all ma packed; that's what the long bag is. Rice and carribou?" He leaned around, to look at the man holding him. *So blue and happy.* "You love me." It wasn't a question, though it amazed him somewhat. "Would you have ever told me?" The look in the other man's eyes was so turbulent, he couldn't entirely read what was there. Fear, desire, hope, sadness; and so much else. *He told you.* Had he blown up? Told him he'd think about it? Had they been dating a little?
It was all starting to crash in around him, the emotions, the lack of sleep. Right now, only two things mattered. Ray was here and willing. A man used to his creature comforts, though he might well ignore them. "Should I warm something up?" He cupped that lovable, travel rumpled face in one hand while the other reassured them both neither was going anywhere.
Part of Ray desperately wanted to say 'Yes, me.' Another was starting to get scared; because he wanted this, because he didn't know exactly what he wanted, because he didn't want to ruin a friendship he couldn't even remember. *I'm not scared of Benny.* "Yeah." In the time that bought, he thought about it. Benny, he trusted Benny. He could very easily let Benny make love to him. *He loves me.* That bowled him over. Then he was scooped into those arms and was being held and kissed and carressed. He was kissing and hugging and carressing back, and then he looked into those eyes. *Bright Madonna Blue.* As much as he didn't want to stop, he knew he had to say something. Moving his hands to the other man's chest, pushing him away gently, Ray gazed into that handsome face.
"Benny. This," What could he say? "That you love me, has got to be the most fantastic gift that's ever come into my life. When I left Chicago, I thought I was only looking for my past." It was all he could manage to say. He'd been on the go too long, it was all so unexpected.
*NO!* Too much like his dreams, this not a memory, but a fantasy, yet still ending in the same way. Ray, his Ray, gone. He sunk with a thud to the floor, crumpling into a cross-legged position. Benton leaned nearly all the way forward, his arms hugging his ankles as his body shook.
*Mother of Mercy!* "Benny." He didn't know what to say. "Benny." He draped one of the sweaters from around his own shoulders over the sobbing Mountie. *Why doesn't he make a sound?* Ray tried to get a look at the face. *No tears either.* He might not remember, but he knew this couldn't be a good thing. That it was instinctual, the result of long years of practice; Ray had seen relatives, very rarely, sometimes others, via work, hit so hard they forgot to moan or drop tears--this, looked different. "Benny." He tried to console him by rubbing his back. "You don't have to be silent." Ray mumbled along, slipping into Italian; what words was less important than there be words. *What is going on in there?*
The sound was more like a drowning victim sucking breath, or the scream of an animal snapped in a bear trap. "Speak to me, Benny. Whatever it is. Whatever, Benny." Ray was rocking with the solidly built man. He scrambled to figure out what had so set off the Canadian, but he couldn't clearly remember his own words, let alone remember much about this man.
Fraser was starting to sound more like a person crying. Then he was moving, pulling the food from its place over the fire, setting it to one side to cool some. He walked away, and threw himself down. When Ray stood suddenly, he was relieved to find that Benny had dropped onto a bed.
Part of him told him to let the Canadian cry it out alone, to grant him that dignity. The rest screamed that that was the problem, that he had spent too many years stifling; probably did so even when there was no one to hear or see. That majority pushed him to go over to the bed. To use touch to encourage the tears and sounds.
"Benny." Ray scooped him into a hug as the shuddering sobs slowed, rubbing his back. "Food. Think you can manage? Come on, I figure you must have at least two plates here." Ray dragged them both to their feet, and supported Fraser until they could sit down to the warmed Ma Vecchio prepared repast.
Benton ate as an automaton, moving bite-sized pieces into his mouth, chewing, swallowing and repeating without really tasting. Ray dug in, worried, but hoping food would make both of them better able to deal with whatever was going on.
"Why did you come?" Ray wasn't entirely sure if the question was really directed at him. Benny wasn't looking at him, or at much at all. The voice was low. "Why did you bother." That was said even softer.
"I wanted the rest of my past back. I wanted my memories of my best friend. Tell me what's wrong. Is it because I kissed you?" Ray didn't honestly believe that, but was uncertain what else could be the problem.
"Yes. Hope is the worst form of torture."
*What was that supposed to mean?* "I don't get it Benny. Maybe because I can't remember; there are things other than you I don't recall, you know. Things you didn't even mention. Like a whole investigation. There might be others. The point is, I'm here now. And it looks like my future is also waiting."
"It's not the future; it could have been, but not now. 'A people without a past has no future.' With different pasts, different futures."
"Damn it, Benny. This is a hell of a time to make like the oracle at Delphi. That shit bored the hell out of me in high school English and I refuse to live it. Everybody screwing up their lives because they twisted everything around. Tragedy is for opera, Benny. You know, big sopranos and tenors? Not life, not Mounties and cops. Didn't Aristotle say something like that?"
"Not in the Poetics I read, not that they had either Mounties or cops at the time..." Benny looked at Ray like he'd sprouted another head; which, in a way, he just had. "Where is this all coming from?"
"Does it really matter? We were talking about pasts and futures. We have a history, one we share. The main difference, is you remember it and I don't. What I've heard, makes me want that past. This other, we both want it. Don't we? Sure, it scares me, but that's life."
"It's not that simple."
"Who said anything about simple? Simple wouldn't have brought me up here. Simple would have been finding some woman back in Chicago. You'll notice where I am. This is not about simple. If I'm right, this has more to do with love, and that's as complicated as it gets."
"Ray..."
"Do you want me? Yes or no? Do you want me."
"Ray. I love you. Nothing changes that, but that doesn't mean..."
"What the hell does that mean? Did I do something stupid or cruel; you have to explain what the problem is, because I don't know."
*Ray.* There was no way to explain. He let his head rest on his knees.
"You seemed damned happy to see me when I got here. What changed? Getting cold feet? Something you wanted but thought you couldn't have shows up and you're not sure what to do with it? Myself, I am a little shocked. Because this really complicates my life; that's not going to go away. So I really want to understand what is your problem."
"We can't get it back, Ray. We can't."
*Back?* "We were lovers?" He asked it softly, partially for himself. "And you didn't tell me?" Now Ray was getting much louder. "How long? How long?" The other man couldn't speak, and just held up two fingers. "Two weeks? Two months? Two years? Two years!" *You don't tell me about two years!* "Why the hell not? Just answer that."
"You didn't remember."
"And?"
"Ray."
"Don't Ray me! You say you love me, that we were lovers for two years and you just leave?"
"You didn't remember. Not that and not me."
That stopped Ray. It was one thing to have to introduce yourself as a body's best friend; another as that man's male lover. Who doesn't recognize you, or remember you. "Did you leave because I couldn't be there for you?" He could accept that; didn't like it but could accept it. That had split him and Angie apart, and there wasn't even any memory loss. Still, Fraser was silent. "Benny?" A suspicion settled on him. "Or was it some misguided sense of nobility? Because I can take you leaving for your own good, but not for what you thought was mine." Ray, not contradicted, continued. "That's just like you, Benny; helpful no matter how many people it hurts. If I told you once, I told you a thousand times, nobody appreciates it. You get wet, or miss the elevator, does anybody care? Do little old ladies like feeling they need to be helped across the street?" Ray was really laying in now. "What is this with you? What displaced selfishness is it? I really want to know what is more important than love! You aren't Bogart and there's no Nazi army."
"I don't know, Ray. It's just part of who I am." Finally it caught up with him. "What did you just say? Did you just say what I think I heard?"
"I asked you what is more important than love."
"Before that. You have told me that before. Repeatedly."
"And it never sticks, does it? That people have to do things for themselves; makes them feel good." Now Ray was noticing it. "Memories. Well, attitudes I suppose." As Ray calmed down, how tired he was started to catch up with him, such that he didn't even manage to stifle the yawn.
"Ray, you need to go to bed." Fraser went to his sleeping bag and started to unroll it.
"What are you doing?"
"I need to sleep too."
"I am not kicking you out of your bed. I'll sleep in the bedroll."
"Ray, you'll be more comfortable in the bed."
"Only on one condition. There's enough room. Otherwise, I'm in the bedroll." Ray watched as Fraser realized he fully intended to be stubborn. When that was settled, Ray went to his other bag, and dug out his pajamas. "You probably better store the rest of the food." He watched as Fraser pulled out a few things, then hung the bag outside from the stoop roof. The while he stripped down to his longjohns and put his pajamas over them.
"Ray." His voices quavered as he saw the slim man standing by his bed. "I don't think I" *can sleep so close to you. should try to.* "I really think it would be better..." His mind balked at even thinking the words. Better and not sleeping with Ray didn't belong together, regardless of propriety or any other social concern. "Ray."
"You can have the bed to yourself. Your call." Ray wasn't too sure about them sleeping together either, or about taking the bedroll. But he was damned if he was going to let the Mountie not sleep in his own bed.
He was trapped and he knew it. He wasn't going to have Ray sleep on the floor, and Ray wouldn't sleep in the bed alone. "Get in the bed; I have to change." He pulled his red longjohns from under the covers and went into the cold addition.
When Fraser returned, the two men stood for a moment, uncertain whether they trusted the other not to head for the sleeping bag, should they get into the bed first. Ray turned down one side. Fraser turned down the other, and sat down. This was matched and raised by one leg under the covers. Fraser saw and raised, putting both of his legs under the blankets.
*Vecchio, do you want to do this?* He thought about the bedroll. Still, he put the other leg into the bed. He waited for the other man's move, trying not to think about the nipples he could see straining at the red fabric.
Seeing that the American was holding, he lay part of the way down. Wondering if Ray was going to bolt for the bedroll after all. *Ray, don't.* Don't leave me, don't tempt me. Don't.
*Fine. Game over.* Ray fell back, flipping the covers up, both over himself
and the Mountie. He tried not to breathe too hard, as his heart was making plenty of noise. *Oh, G-d! This bed is way too small for this.* He rolled to face out.
Fraser rolled to face out. *Ray, you shouldn't have done this.* As he calmed himself down, he became all too aware of the heat coming off the Italian's back. He fought the twin temptations of breaking for the sleeping bag and ravishing Ray.
Eventually, sleep overcame them both. Dreaming.
*Yes. Ray, oh, Ray. Ray,* He shifted him just a mite. *ooh.* Slowly, he realized he was feeling beard burn. One eye opened. He slammed it tight. Slowly, he opened the other. Apparently, Ray was still asleep. *You aren't supposed to wake sleepwalkers. This is wrong, I can't just...* That was exactly what he wanted to do; he had wanted this for most of the ten very long months he had been through. *Not like this. He'll wake up, and...* Fraser knew if he was going to put a halt to this he had to decide how, and soon. He rolled over onto his side, and then gently worked the other man apart.
*Benny?* Ray tried to find him, waking in the process. "Benny, there you are..." *Shit.* Right, we're in bed, but not for that. *I don't think my body got the report.* Actually, he was quite sure. *This cabin isn't big enough for this.*
Fraser was uncertain of what to do. *I could really use an Inuit story right now.* He met Ray's eyes, looking very guilty.
"Dammit, Benny. Finally you have a comfortable bed... You love me. I, well, I could very well love you. Not remembering, it's really a cramp; I'd have to get to know you. How could you just leave? Answer that."
"It couldn't be the same."
"So you threw away two years?" *Yelling won't make him talk.* "Look. Do you still love me? Not, are you still in love, but do you still love me. Because you're right, it won't be the same. How does the saying go? 'You can't stand in the same river twice.'"
"Ray, I do love you. I'll always love you."
"Then why did you leave? What was so much more important than love? From what I've heard, we were the best of friends. I shot you, you made me blow up the Riv. If that didn't make us enemies, we must be tight."
"I don't know, Ray. I just couldn't stay without you. It wouldn't have been fair to you."
*Wouldn't have been fair to me for you to have stayed?* "Just how was leaving fair?"
"You still had your life to live. That was all I had left."
"You couldn't stay without me, so you left? I thought you were Scottish, not Irish."
"Pardon?" *Aristotle, Celts, Tragedy in translation? Fortune cookie Zen?* Not that it was exactly Zen, if in a fortune cookie... *Babbling, you are babbling.*
"All you had left was me still having my life to live? So you came up here, not bothering to tell me we had been lovers for two years?" Ray was past angry, and into sheer disbelief. "Too much Shakespeare at a tender age? I can only hope you didn't swallow a Bible too."
"Ray, I don't understand. Are you babbling? Because you used to stop me from babbling, though you don't take nearly so long, but then I'm not sure I get what you are trying to say. Do you know?"
"You're worried if I'm babbling? Benny." *If I'm babbling, it's because of lack of bloodflow to the brain.* "If I still had my life to live, how could you not tell me about us? At least that you loved me. I missed you. Needed you around." Ray just looked into confused blue eyes. "Even though I didn't know, I just couldn't... Benny, apart we are incomplete. At least I am." Ray rolled back over to face away.
"Together, we are better than we are separately. Can you forgive me?"
"Only if we can get some more sleep." *Right, like you can sleep like this.* "Benny?"
"Yes, Ray?" Fraser had rolled to face out as well.
"Do people know? About us, I mean?"
"People?"
"Yeah, people. Who knows and who doesn't."
"Knows? Oh, everyone you'd think."
"Who, Benny?"
"Your family of course. Except for your uncle. People at the station and the Consulate. We decided against telling Buck."
*This is just too damn weird.* "Welsh? My Ma? Everbody?" He wasn't sure which astounded him more, that they knew and apparently didn't mind, or that they knew and didn't tell him.
"Not everyone, just everyone who knows us. Almost."
"Are you going to tell me about the blue dress?"
Benton rolled over. "Hum?"
"That's the memory I got back. Dozed off and remembered dancing with this tall woman. You know, I had to have Anne tell me it was you."
"I thought you wanted to sleep."
"Benny." Ray rolled onto his back, careful with the blankets. "Is there anything since I lost my memory I should know? I mean, I was dating but... It never went anywhere, honest." He looked into the blue eyes trying not to drift off. "Night."
"Morning, Benny." He noticed he was alone. "Benny?" As he started to panic, he noticed the note. 'Had to go into town. Outhouse behind the trees at the end of the path. Will bring back supplies.' *Right, always have to dress to go to the bathroom.*
Ray was defrosting by the fire. "No wonder he never noticed the cold. That, that is a cold as it gets." *No, it probably gets even colder up here.* He tried to shove the thought away from his mind. Ray started to poke around, uncertain how long the Mountie would be gone. *Wonder where that goes?* Ray opened the door and was chilled by the wall of cold. *Newspapers. What, five years of the Runamukluk Herald? No, four months of the Trib.*
Ray closed the door. The room confused him, having a fireplace though clearly unused, except to store Chicago newspapers. *Why put a fireplace in a room you don't plan to use?* A fireplace was an expensive proposition, even though Benny had probably done the work himself. "How the hell would you get that much brick up here?"
When Fraser returned, he found Ray dozing but sitting up in the bed, blankets drawn up to his neck. Careful though he was in sitting down the things he brought from town, the man stirred. "You know, this happens to be the only warm place in the cabin." He voice shifted from joking defensive to sheepish serious. "Fraser, we've got to talk."
"I know." He quickly divested himself of his outerwear, and set some things to the fire. "Ray,"
"This can't have been easy for you, and while I really wish you hadn't just left like that, I think I understand. Dammit, Benny, I don't. Why?"
"I thought if I left, I thought. It was real hard, wanting you so much, and I was worried and then. You didn't need to see that, so I came up here." Fraser tried to collect himself, and started again. "You had recovered from your wounds, but you still couldn't remember, me, us. I was worried that I might, I don't know, but I was afraid of what might happen if I stayed."
"I wish I could have figured out why you were so sad. I thought it was being so far from home. That you'd be happy when you had your real work again." Ray switched gears. "I thought Mounties didn't get scared?"
"They do. Just like Canadians have sex."
"Well, you had to wonder with Dudley Doright and Nell."
"Ray, the horse wasn't even the right color."
Ray motioned for the other man to sit down, and Benton closed the last bit of distance to the bed. "Promise me one thing. Never do that again. Don't shut me out. Can you promise me that?"
"I'll do my best. That's the most I can promise."
Ray assumed his most innuendo-laden look. A full-bloom blush was his reward. "Since you're a Mountie, I accept your best." Then he turned more conversational. "What about the blue dress? Or does it embarass you?"
"Actually, it embarassed you at the time. You never said why; it was just clothes, after all."
"You dress up like a woman and that's all you can say?"
"Other than I have the profoundest respect for your sister, yes."
"How did I meet Eric? I ran into him at the sandwich shop. That's how I got here last night, callled him over and got a lift."
"That was the tribal masks case." He saw the lack of recognition. "Two masks, owned by the Canadian and French governments. There was a sweatlodge in my apartment."
"I don't remember any of it. Just like I don't remember the gangster stash. I can't believe I had Elliot Ness' gun in my hands and I don't remember. Benny, do you have a thing about having your own bathroom?"
"What?"
"Well, you have a frozen outhouse, and in Chicago you shared a bathroom with your neighbors. And what is the room with the newspapers about?"
"Actually, I think it's supposed to be a bathroom."
"No toliet, no tub." Ray thought for a moment. "I was supposed to buy those, and the sink, right? Can't remember why, though." He looked at Fraser real strange. "A bathroom with a fireplace? You'll have Robin Leach through with a film crew."
"Wouldn't be much good unheated." Fraser willed himself away from the thoughts those words, belatedly, conjured. "Last night." The question made his breath catch. "No. Nothing to tell." He'd never be able to love another. "What are we going to do?"
*Difference in vernacular, or is he honestly that straight-laced?* "Not give up, that's what. Way I see it, we have two problems. First, I still don't remember beans about our friendship. Second, well," Ray was getting a tad bashful. "Well, we worked through it once, so I'm sure..." He snaked out a hand to communicate what he couldn't say. "I really don't know how to go about this." *How do I say this without offending him?* "I think the first is more serious; if I had just forgotten we'd been... this would be a hell of a lot simpler. That didn't come out right. Just, you deserve as close to the original goods as possible. Right now, you remember a Ray that I don't, a Ray that knows you."
Fraser was close to being swallowed by the dread that had haunted him for the last ten months. "Ray." This flipflopping was tearing him apart. Hope swinging him up only to have doubt plunge him down.
Ray noticed the other man wasn't looking so good. *Rollercoaster. G-d damned rollercoaster.* Having no words for the situation, he drew closer to the Mountie. Enfolding each hand into his own. "Benny, somehow we'll work this out. What's mine, I keep. Past, future, you; I'm not letting any of it go. Got that?" He looked over the other's face, seeing a slight bobbing of the head. "Good." Pulling in closer he rested his forehead on Benny's brow, kissing it as he parted. "So, what's cooking?"
They spent the rest of the day and into the evening talking. About what Ray did remember, and Fraser relating things he didn't. Finally though, it was time for sleep. Neither was up to a repeat of chicken poker. "Bed, Benny. Okay?" Ray couldn't resist. "Why is it you finally have a decent one, now?" He turned down the blankets, and waited for Benny to start to get in, before doing the same. They were much too close in the bed, facing each other.
Fraser started to roll over but was stopped with a hand placed on his shoulder. "Benny." The hand ran to the pale neck hidden by the covers, carressing the smooth flesh. It wasn't smart, but Ray wasn't interested in smart just then. Nor in rushing things, though he knew this could very easily get out of hand. That he was asking too much, for them to share the bed and still just sleep. Dividing the bed last night nearly was too much; sharing could only increase the danger. "Sorry." He withdrew his hand.
Ray felt the hand back rubbing his cheek, pushing at the stubble. Then it was gone, and he could feel the shifting, but Fraser wasn't getting out, just rolling over. Ray did the same, and their backs were nearly touching but not quite.
*Ray, we have to conserve body heat. I suggest we share a carcass. The insulation and combined body heat should allow us to outwait them.* *Don't you have doors in Canada? We don't jump out windows in Chicago.*
He woke up. *Memories. Strange memories, but memories.* He couldn't just wake Benny, though. "Ray?" It was very faint and sleep fogged.
"It's nothing, go back to sleep." That had just the opposite result, as the other man sat partially up. "Light sleeper, I see. Did we really wear our friend Flicka?"
"Yes, Ray." A moment's thought. "Anything else you recall?" He tried not to sound too hopeful.
"Some Mountie who was tied to a caribou; no, that was a story. Did that really happen, or was that just to reassure me when you strapped the pinto to me? Human shield-- do they have kevlar in Canada. Either way, is it always like that?"
"Well..." Pause. "Unusual circumstances do seem to abound."
"You are more careful about tasting things, right? It's gross, and just asking for someone to spike some mud."
"I learned my lesson, thank you. It's not like people purposely bait their tracks in the Yukon. Hide them, yes. Double back to divert pursuers, certainly. Set a deadfall or a bear trap, on occassion. Drugged spoor, no."
"Moosejaw. How big is Moosejaw?"
"Small. Though it didn't feel that way. Too many people. I hadn't gone outside the Depot much in Regina."
"So they sent you to Chicago? Guess that must have shocked them when it didn't work. You have been, forgiven? They gotten their heads out of their butts?"
"I think they got tired. But no, I doubt they'll really ever forgive. They just don't have anything else they could try."
Ray hoped the Mountie was right. "You sure? They won't be sending you to the equator, or posting you in Antarctica."
"Well, I liked Alert, so I very much doubt they'd bother with Antarctica." He tried not to think about the other example. The mere idea of sentry in the tropics...
"Need some snow? An icicle, perhaps? Calm down, it's much too cold for eavesdropping. Just never take a Spanish proficiency test." He put a hand on the available arm. "They wouldn't?"
"No, I suppose not. Among some circles, those postings are considered plums. Though I fail to see the attraction.
"So it doesn't appeal to those of the Arctic Circle. How did the British Empire manage with all that serge, anyway?"
"Sometimes, they didn't. At least once they lost an entire regiment, except for the Highlanders. I guess they got the last laugh."
Ray quirked an eyebrow, then voiced a 'how's that?'
"They had been told they'd be better off out of their kilts and plaids. But it couldn't strictly be an order, so they refused."
"Brown uniform." *What?* "Uh, it just popped to mind. Why couldn't it be an order?"
"Regimental uniform, part of the raising ordinance. Brown uniform?"
"I don't know. Scouts?"
"I wear a brown uniform. Inspector Thatcher nearly fired me because of it." He paused, wondering if Ray would offer the rest.
"Blue. It should be blue. Why brown, then?" Ray started to smile wide. "It's the old uniform, and they forgot to remove it from the handbook. You're right, it has a little more panache." His eyes narrowed in the darkness. "Almost fired you? Courted that over a uniform?"
"They aren't cheap, Ray. Except for the time my sleeve was on fire, and getting stabbed in the leg, it's not like they wear out."
"Bindlestitch. Your sleeve was on fire?"
"Once. But the shirt underneath was fine. Bindlestitch?"
"Boots. You wouldn't let them cut them off. We had to help out a cobbler. The boots went awol after picking them up from repairs. How exactly did your grandma Scotchguard you at birth?"
"I think she scared the dirt. She was a formidable woman."
"With seditious reading habits. No, a habit for ordering seditious reading material from the American Revolution. Why was that?"
"More readily available. And shorter. I was rather young."
"And just what would she have ordered if you were older?"
"The complete works of Adam Smith. Maybe followed up with Marx."
"Marx? I guess it was good you weren't older; I don't think that would have played well. She really would have given you Marx?"
"After I finished Adam Smith. She once came across an Adam Ferguson, but it was too badly damaged." Fraser realized they had drifted. "Ray, since when do you refer to Greek literature?" *Or worry about the reading of the Bible or Shakespeare in youth?*
"Isn't me? Must have sunk in deeper than I thought. Did your grandma ever give you any Mark Twain? Really?"
Fraser thought it strangely made sense. One theory held people didn't so much forget things but ceased recalling where the memory was stored. Somehow, Ray's English classes had been located. *I wish they could had been tapped more cheaply, and less dear...* How curious.
"Benny? Why all this stuff, I mean, don't get me wrong, but somehow I thought, well... I'd think I'd remember other stuff first."
"You had strong reactions to all of them. Not always positive, but strong. Like, with the boots, you couldn't believe anyone would spend so much to repair old ones."
"Or that you were less concerned about your leg than them. Did you really get hit by an otter?" *Whoa.* Now they were collecting, like a... glacier calving.
"Ray, are you okay?" Fraser was holding the slimmer man tightly.
"Yeah, I, well, I got a little overwhelmed by a rush of them. Detective Armani?" *Really.* Ray became very serious. "Sorry about the dead Mountie crack. I didn't know, but I still shouldn't have said it. I'd have slugged anyone who said something like that about a cop, just a random cop."
He couldn't resist those sad green eyes. "I know; you felt real bad when you learned he was my father." One arm around his back and the other across his front, his chin tucked over the shoulder. So close to Ray's mouth.
Which he found latched to his own lips. Then the searching tongue probing his mouth, insistent but slowly. Ray turning to pull them together, rolling the Canadian on top. The kiss stretched into a series, placed such they could breathe in between but neither could speak. Then Ray moved along one jawline and then the other. Down onto the neck, darting out his tongue along the way. Fraser was having a hard time remembering his own name, or anything else.
*Oh G-d, Benny!* It just felt so right, the weight pushing against his chest, pinning him to the bed. *A more than decent bed.* To think Canadians didn't use these good mattresses--well, who knew? *What?* For a moment Ray was confused, as it seemed that Benny was starting to glow, and crackle. *Static. How can it be so, pretty? Like, little stars popping.*
"Ray. Ray. Oh, Ray." Fraser was trying to hold still, and discourage Ray from moving around. He was not entirely pleased when he accomplished the task. It took a moment to get his breathing in control. "Ray." Stern and even.
"Benny." Hopeful, yet, searching.
What could he say? That this was a bad idea? "Ah. I don't think..."
"I know. It's just... When? I may never get all of my memory back, so how much is enough?"
Benton pulled himself off. "I don't know. How much of my memory would you want me to have?"
Ray propped himself up and ran his hand across his hair. "You'd have to know what annoying habits I have, and be able to accept them. Same situation? You remember everything except me? How I think, and how you react to it. The little quirks that make you know what I'm feeling. I don't know what else. That isn't everything I'd want you to know, but that's what I would need. I'm sure there's more, but at least that." He looked away and then back. "How do I get that? I remember things like your boots and you always helping people, and this stubborn streak and your grandmother giving you books instead of toys. Did you really feed one to a walrus? I mean, aren't they big to hold something like that out to? That your dad wasn't around much, and you felt guilty for not saving him. You weren't even in the right time zone! Fraser, you can't do everything. Okay, you come damn close, and I don't know how you do it, but you do, and you got me doing it too. Even though I end up running through sewers, and frolicking in garbage. Thanks to you I must be supporting half a garment district. You have an Inuit story for every occassion, though I don't think you tell them right. Still, they nearly always work. You don't lie, though you can manipulate people into thinking something else. That's right, taste mud just to convince them you know what you need them to tell you. I'm a better cop, a better person for knowing you, even if I can't remember how. I'd like to think you've gained something from it all, hell if I can think of a damn thing.
"I'm human. Before you, I'm not sure I understood that. I never had a friend before, not like you. Ray, you had no reason to trust me, or my methods. I've never told you this, but, well, even when you going on about how gross it was when I tasted evidence or that you couldn't believe something I did or got you to do, you went with it. That's more than anyone else ever did."
"You mean besides other Mounties?"
"Um." This was getting too close towhy he'd never told Ray. "No."
"No?" He looked over at Benny. "Right, you didn't have a partner."
He was torn between leaving it at that, and having Ray not know just how special he was, or telling him the whole truth and inspiring another of Ray's rants about the R.C.M.P. "Ray?" He felt a light buss on his temple.
"Go to sleep." Ray rolled over, and made himself comfortable. Fraser had much to think about as he drifted off to sleep.
When Ray woke, again he was alone in bed. But he could hear sounds. "Benny?" He got out of bed and looked around.
"Decided to join us? Come on, grab a plate."
"Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"I switched days. If they really need me, they know where I am. Actually, I suppose I should have asked you that question a couple of days ago."
"Welsh approved it when I said I was coming up here. Elaine found me a flight. That's why I wanted to know who knew. What did you do, swear them to secrecy?"
"What? No. Ray, I really am sorry about just leaving like that. I, I couldn't tell you, not flat out."
"Why not?" Ray finished another fork full. "In two years didn't we work through all this?" Ray gestured with the laden fork and popped it in his mouth. "If, well, if we were married, would you just not tell me? I'd think after two years, you'd think of it that way. It is like that, right?" Ray noticed he had no answer. He focused on Fraser. "I thought you didn't have a problem with this. You're the open minded one."
Ray had him there. It would have been abandonment. He couldn't figure out why he had thought it the needful thing to do. "I guess I wanted it to be your choice." It sounded lame to himself.
"Choice? Benny, let me get this straight, we are together, together, for two years, I forget, and you just leave, and somehow, it's my choice? Choice, you would have told me. Not that it should be a hard call. Two years should be all the choice I'd need."
"Not knowing, well all the stuff that led up to that, I wasn't sure you'd still... Ray, I mean, you'd been married, and you dated women, before we... I really don't understand it either." Fraser didn't like what it said about him.
"G-d, Benny. You hate it when I beat up on myself. Listen to me. I like how you make me feel. When you aren't being stupid and making my brain hurt, that is. That I'm not attracted to other men doesn't change that, nor does the fact I have been attracted to women. So yeah, before you, I went for women. But not since you. I want you, not them." Ray ate while he let Benny digest that. "Isn't it pretty much the same for you, not that I really give a damn. I doubt I'll be any less fine with anything the second hearing." He did however wait, wanting to understand better.
"I was in love once, I thought I was. You remembered her, right after you could talk. So, I can't really say. I, didn't pay much attention either way." *Damn it, Victoria, why can't you leave me alone?* "I let her hurt you, might have hurt you so much worse, and yet somehow... Ray, you don't deserve me. You deserve better. I don't deserve you. How could you forgive me?" *I don't forgive me.*
"That was before. Right? What was before, I don't have to forgive. Otherwise, you'd have more to forgive me."
"Ray..."
"No. I don't care. I won't let Victoria win. I wasn't going to let her destroy you then, and I won't let her do it now. We got through that hell once, so don't you dare go back there." *What I remember is bad enough.*
Fraser was stunned.
"You promised to do your best, to not shut me out. So you've got to let me make my own decisions, instead of 'protecting' me, or whatever you thought you were doing." Ray paused to collect himself for the next part. "Don't go tearing yourself up on my account, because I'm not into that. You want me, don't settle for a newspaper subscription. You worry about 'for your own good' for yourself, not me. Not that I don't want you as backup." He shifted gears. "Or front up. Benny, I can't say things will be the same. I couldn't have promised that before though either. This cabin, your bed, are too small if we aren't going to get past... what would you call it?"
"What do you want to do?"
"See what happens." Ray place a hand on Fraser's thigh. "It's been nearly a year." He looked into the blue eyes, hoping he could interprete them. "How about you, am I close enough?"
"If I said no, would you hold it against me?" He put a hand over Ray's thigh.
Ray leaned over, decreasing the distance between them. "You'd like me to get closer?"
"Yes, Ray." Fraser encouraged with his moving hands.
The Beginning...