Author's webpage: http://members.xoom.com/ymccool/

Disclaimer: These characters belong to
Alliance Television, no copyright
infringement is intended.

Pairing: Fraser/Vecchio
Rating: NC-17
Category: First times, PWP
Author Name : Y S McCool
Author E-Mail : ysmccool@flashmail.com
Episode Related : Victoria's Secret,
Letting Go
Date: December 18, 1999

Ghost of a Chance
By Y S McCool

The stakeout had lasted four days, which was exactly three days, fourteen hours
too long. Even Fraser had run out of
Inuit stories to alleviate the boredom of sitting in the tiny little apartment,
watching another tiny little apartment
across the courtyard, and listening to
the rain. The endless, ceaseless, "Lord, take me now!" rain.

Ray had decided that he could distinguish seven distinct types of rain of the last four days--[1] there was the unrepentant, unrelenting downpour that makes it
impossible to drive or even to just walk across the street to the diner; [2] the sudden storm surge where the rain
actually falls sideways; [3] the
merciless and steady rainfall that isn't so intense you can't travel but you are unable to go *anywhere* and arrive with a single dry area on your body; [4] the
good sleeping rain sound of fat drops
broken up with occasional thunder; [5]
the "it might end tonight" patter; [6]
the light sprinkling so you'll come out and get really wet when it returns to 1, 2, or 3; and [7] the just enough to keep everything soggy, smelly, and miserable precipitation.

It was so humid in the badly ventilated room that poor Diefenbaker spent most of his time begging a toweling from anyone who had the strength to oblige.

The problem with this kind of boredom was that it inevitably led to mistakes. Ray would remember that later. Actually,
later it would eat at him. But right
now, he was bored.

The man they were watching was sitting on four cases of high powered rifles,
ninety-two boxes of ammunition, and nine SAMS. All had been lifted from a
Canadian fort at the cost of six lives, including two of his partners.

Fraser, Vecchio, Huey, and Turnbull had tracked the man, Wendall Brunkett, and
the weapons to this location. They had been prevented from apprehending him
because several agencies, both Canadian and American, hoped to catch some bigger fish. The authorities were hoping that Brunkett would lead them to the people
who had given Brunkett and his two
colleagues the security codes that had
allowed them access to the weapons in the first place.

Vecchio wanted those people too, but he would rather have Brunkett safely behind bars instead of waiting and hoping their bird in the hand would lead to the birds still hiding in the bush--to stretch a
metaphor.

Another problem with this kind of boredom was that you could end up with your foot in your mouth long before you realized
you were talking. "Benny, you're a
straightforward kind of guy. I mean,
when it suits you."

Fraser set down the chess piece he was
polishing. The Mountie had decided to
spend some time teaching Ray to play
chess. Actually, Ray knew how to play
chess, he just wasn't that good at some of the strategy. But it would be time
spent sitting close to Benny when he
could concentrate on something other than the narrow bed, Fraser's lips, and the
image of the larger man buck naked.

"What's that suppose to mean, Ray?" Ben asked with that "ever so slightly
offended" tone only the Mountie could
pull off.

"I mean, you glance off things when it
could hurt people's feelings or make them very uncomfortable. I meant it well,"
Ray explained.

"Oh," Ben responded. "I guess I'm
straightforward then."

"Right," Ray agreed. "So, if you had
something to say to someone, and you've been... internalizing on it for several days. How would you bring it up?"

"That depends, Ray." Fraser placed the bishop piece on its proper square, and
then reached for one of the black
knights. The tiny black figure was
astride a horse, not unlike a member of the Musical Ride, but without a battle
lance. The Mountie cleaned it carefully. "What is it I have to say?"

"It would be of a personal nature," Ray explained.

"How personal?" Fraser asked as the
knight took up its duty post.

"Very personal."

"How personal is 'very personal', Ray?" Fraser picked up the second black knight, distinguished from the first by being
left- instead of right-handed.

"Personal, as in I want to kiss your
lips, slip you some tongue, and hold you tightly in my arms. That kind of
personal." Ray waited to see if the
Mountie would get on the clue bus.

"That is personal," Benton agreed,
letting the clue bus glide past him. He placed the knight in the Queen's Rook
position.

Ray corrected the placement. "So, we
agree on how personal the statement is. How would you bring it up?"

Fraser noted how Vecchio had corrected
the positioning of the chess piece. "I thought you didn't know how to play
chess, Ray," he stated suspiciously,
smoothly changing the subject.

"Knowing which little guy goes where is not the same as knowing how to play,
Benny," Ray stated firmly. "Now how
would you bring it up?" Vecchio asked,
returning to the main subject.

"How well do I know this person I want to kiss?" Ben asked.

"Very well. But not so well that you
already know their answer. There have
been hints that a kiss might be well
received, but nothing really concrete."

"Well, Ray, honestly I can't speak for
this mythical person, but for my part, I would think that anyone would be...
pleased with an offer of a kiss from
you."

Ray grinned. "Really?"

"Very much so," Ben said quickly. He
plunked down six more unpolished pieces, and quickly busied himself putting them in place. The wrong place.

Ray noted the blush rising up the larger man's cheeks and the slight tremble to
his hands. He placed his hand over Ben's and guided the pieces into their correct locations. As he did so, Ray began to
trace his finger along the inside edge of Ben's index finger. It was a move even this Mountie couldn't mistake.

Ben looked at Ray through his thick,
black lashes. "Do you have something to say?"

"I want to kiss you, Ben. Would that be alright?"

Fraser nodded. Ray stood up and walked around the table. Ben leaned his head
back and closed his eyes. Vecchio
covered Fraser's mouth with his own and their lips touched briefly.

Then Ben pulled away. "Someone's
coming."

Talk about bad timing. But they had
time. A lot of time. Besides, if Ray
didn't get some food in him he might be forced to take a nibble out of Fraser.

The door opened, after the appropriate
knock had been given, and Constable
Turnbull arrived with food, drinks,
books, and Agents Wiley and Strickland.

Ray was glad to see the food, he was even glad to see Turnbull because he had the food, but he could have gone the rest of his life without seeing the two DEA
agents again.

Efrem Wiley gave Ray the creeps, plain
and simple. Vecchio liked to think he
could at least pretend to get along with everyone, but Wiley just seemed to rub
him the wrong way.

As for Maggie Strickland, Ray just
couldn't get over the fact that she was twisted. She did things, petty things, mostly to Turnbull, who was easily
flustered. So petty that even Fraser,
the absolute Lord of Getting Along with All of God's Creatures, seemed to spurn her.

While Turnbull was setting out the
coffee, the good stuff straight from the Consulate, Strickland nearly tripped the man. Okay, so Turnbull could trip over his own shadow sometimes, but this was
deliberate and nasty. Ray had been
looking forward to that coffee for hours, and he wasn't going to let it fall onto the floor.

Ray caught the tray and righted it, which set Turnbull off in a flurry of
apologies. "I'm so sorry, Detective
Vecchio."

"It wasn't your fault, Turnbull," Ray
assured his friend. He caught the eye of Strickland. "I'm sure Agent Strickland will be much more careful from now on. She should watch herself."

"Ray," Fraser interrupted.

"Some people *really* should watch
themselves," Ray continued.

"Ray!" Fraser shouted as he threw himself in front of Vecchio. Ray was knocked to the floor. There was a shot--a brutally loud noise in the tiny apartment. Benny stayed on his trajectory, but just
crumpled to the floor.

Agent Strickland now had a hole in her
coat just in front of the right pocket. Ray was on his feet and had his gun out, but lowered it when he felt the snub nose of Wiley's pistol against his head.

"Maggie, why didn't you just wait until they drank the coffee?" Wiley asked.

"Because Dudley-Do-Right here never let me get near it. He's been guarding their food and coffee like they were his
children." The agent indicated with her head that the men should take a chair. "And shut that dog up before I put two
bullets between his beady little eyes."

"Quiet, Diefenbaker," Turnbull said
firmly to the snarling wolf. Immediately the wolf stilled.

Vecchio wasn't counting on getting out of this room alive. He bent down and
checked Fraser. Other than a long gash on the side of his head, he seemed
unharmed. Unfortunately, he was also
unconscious. "Benny, can you hear me?"

Turnbull started to lift Fraser up to
place him on the twin bed they had been taking turns sleeping on. Instead, the Mountie looked his colleague over and
immobilized his neck. The fact his
friend had gotten hurt knocking Vecchio to safety was making Ray's stomach twist.

"You're not getting in your chairs," the woman warned.

"I assumed you didn't really want to kill Constable Fraser," Turnbull stated as he tucked the blankets around the
unconscious man.

"I may change my mind at any second," the agent replied. Her voice was as cold as a metal doorknob in sub-zero weather.

Knowing there was little he could do for Fraser, Ray took a seat. Turnbull sat
down in the chair next to him and
immediately adopted this docile and meek pose. It should have waved a flag to
Wiley and Strickland, but it didn't.

Wiley pulled the cords off the curtains and came behind Turnbull to tie the
larger man's hands. Ray wasn't sure how he knew what the signal was, or even when it was given, but he and Constable
Renfield Turnbull, supposed boob of the Canadian Consulate, moved as one.

Turnbull drove his head up under Wiley's chin. The agent's jaw made a snapping
noise no healthy length of bone should
ever be subjected to. Ray lunged forward and grabbed Strickland's wrist. He let his superior weight and his momentum
counterbalance her better training.

He drove the two of them into the small kitchen table and heard her scream as the piping hot coffee Turnbull had so
carefully guarded made scalding contact with her back.

If he had just thought about it, Ray
doubted he could have ever taken that
steak knife and driven it into a woman's side, but he did. The blade sank to the hilt in her flesh and her blood gushed
over his hand.

Ray smashed his forearm across her throat twice before she finally let the gun
fall. He wrenched her gun hand behind
her back and cuffed her wrists together. Vecchio kicked the back of her knees and sent the agent to the floor. On the way down, her chin struck the table and the last of the coffee poured onto her face before she went all the way down to the cracked, yellow linoleum.

Vecchio turned around in time to see
Turnbull delivering four quick, brutal
blows to Wiley's gut before delivering
the coup de grace to his bloodied face. If he hadn't witnessed it himself, Ray
would have scarcely believed it--Turnbull was dangerous.

Vecchio called for ambulances, then
reported their situation to Welsh. Six of their officers arrested Brunkett
without a struggle. The man seemed
shocked that his contacts hadn't
protected him.

##############

Ray was only half listening as Welsh
filled him in on the results of Wiley's interrogation. It seemed Agents
Strickland and Wiley had quite an
operation going before the Canadians had tracked the weapons to Chicago and
Brunkett.

In hopes of leniency, Wiley had rolled
over on Strickland. The female had
missed the plea party because she was
currently having her stomach stitched
back together.

The pair had been forced to wait the four days for the buyers because Brunkett knew who the buyers were and the buyers knew who Wiley and Strickland were. The only way they had of getting out of the
situation was to take care of Brunkett
after selling their clients the weapons, thus making it look like a deal gone bad.

The Mounties and the Chicago PD would
have missed the whole transaction if
Turnbull had been less diligent in
protecting Ray and Fraser's food and
coffee. All they would have found would have been one dead seller, no weapons,
and a great deal of egg on their faces.

It had been about money and power. Then again, when wasn't it about money and
power? Various departments would fight over the details while keeping themselves as far from blame as possible. Ray
couldn't care less, because Fraser was
still unconscious.

Welsh wound down after his report and
just sat beside Ray to wait for the
doctors to emerge. "It didn't look that bad," Vecchio said sadly. "He just won't wake up."

"He's strong," Welsh said firmly. It was probably as close to comfort as the man could come for another adult male. Ray didn't respond. He didn't have anything to say. Not yet.

"Detective Vecchio, I'm Doctor Roberts." Ray looked at the young woman who had
addressed him. She was petite, AfricanAmerican, and wore long braids.

"Yes, Doctor?" Ray rose to meet the
woman and hear the news he had been
dreading.

"It's the bullet against his spine..."
The rest of what she said was drowned out by the merciless beating of his own
heart.

The bullet. Ray's bullet. The bullet
Ray had put in his friend had been
shifted by the impact of Ben's fall. The fall he had taken to save Ray's worthless life.

The doctor pushed a clipboard into his
hands and Ray signed. There wasn't
really a choice, was there? Ben had
placed his life in Ray's hands. If
Fraser was unable to make his own
decisions, it fell to Ray to make them.

Doctor Roberts smiled and whipped away in a quick flap of white coat tails. Ray
dropped to his knees in the middle of the waiting room and began to pray. He
prayed like he had only prayed twice
before.

"Don't take him, God. Please."

The next few hours passed without making any real permanent impression on Vecchio. Just bits and pieces of those hours would come back to him when he thought about
them very hard. He knew Frannie had been there. He remembered Thatcher. Turnbull had put his arm around Ray and told him that Fraser had too much to do in life to leave yet. Welsh had told him that the office could wait.

Then he found himself sitting beside
Benny's hospital bed trying and failing to find a comfortable position in the
chair.

A nurse's aide named Mack came in and
moved the other bed closer to Fraser.
"Hey, Officer, hop up." The kid was
obviously South-side by his speech. "No one's getting this bed. The word is out the guy's a hero. Admin is pissing
itself trying to make themselves look
good for the press."

Ray lurched over to the bed, fell out
across it, and kicked off his shoes. The kid covered him up with the standard
issue, paper-thin blankets and then left.

Vecchio rolled onto his side and gazed at his friend. "Hey, Benny, you made your point, okay? I can't lose you. Is that what you need to hear? I'm going lay
myself open here. I miss you. I need
you. I want you to open those big blue eyes and talk me into getting something on a good suit that won't come out.
Okay?" Ray closed his fingers around
Fraser's strong wrist. "Please? You
still owe me that kiss." The detective fell asleep still holding his friend's
hand.

"Son, you're not ready to follow me,"
Fraser, Sr. chided the younger man. The two of them stood over the sleeping
detective. "Why don't you go back into your body and wake up? You've got the
Yank near the end of his rope."

"I know," Benton admitted. "I just... I- -"

"You're afraid, Son," Bob interpreted. "No shame in that." He cleared his
throat. "You've had a rough time, Son, but you need to go back before you
*can't* go back," Bob warned. "You're
already cutting it close." Fraser, Sr. faded away.

"What have I got to go back to? What if I'm paralyzed? What then?" Benton asked his father, but the older man was no
longer there.

"Benny?" Ray asked softly. The detective was sitting up and staring, not at Ben's body, but at where Fraser now stood.
"Benny, no. No! Please don't be dead." Vecchio reached out and shocked them both by making full contact with Benton.

"You can feel me?" Fraser gasped.

"Yes," Vecchio replied as he squeezed the other man's hand. "Am I dreaming?"

"In a way," Ben said calmly.

"What... what is this? Are you saying
good-bye to me? Is that what you're
doing?" Ray tugged the larger man down toward him. "Did I finally kill you,
Benny?"

"No, Ray. Please don't think that way," Fraser pleaded. "I just can't... I
don't want to be paralyzed."

"Benny, how do you know you're paralyzed? You had swelling. Swelling just messes everything up. Gawd, man. Don't give up over swelling."

Ben looked deeply into the beautiful
green eyes of his friend and watched a
single tear roll down the Italian's face. He rarely thought of anyone crying for
him, certainly not his very masculine
friend. His ghostly finger barely
altered the path of the tear, but Fraser was fully aware of the heat of it.
"Ray?"

"Benny, if you die you'll never touch me again." Vecchio accented this statement by closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against the larger man's hand. "Don't
you want to touch me?" he asked in his
slightly husky voice. "Don't you?"

Ray could have no idea of the way he was presenting himself. He couldn't realize that his mouth was slightly open or that his lower lip was dragging along the back of Benton's hand. Ray could not know how beautiful he was, or how much Fraser
wanted to fall upon him.

"Ray, I don't think--" Fraser began.

"Don't think, Benny. For once in your
perfect Mountie life, don't think. Feel! Feel afraid, feel joy, feel me!" Ray
moved Benton's hand down inside his silk shirt and placed it over his hammering
heart.

Ben cupped Ray's left breast and smiled as, simultaneously, the nipple hardened and Ray moaned. "I feel you, Ray," the Mountie admitted.

"Do you, Ben?" Ray gasped.

Ben opened the buttons and parted the
soft fabric of Ray's shirt and exposed
the other man's chest. He trailed his
fingers over both nipples, then down the ribs to rest on the light and flat
stomach. "What are you offering me,
Ray?" Ben asked before he took what he
was not entitled to have, perhaps what he wasn't even entitled to want.

The slender detective gulped. "Anything, everything, Benny. Just don't leave me without even trying."

Fraser paused. "What if I'm unable to
live with what I have left?"

Ray's eyes opened. "It would have to be damned bad for that to happen, Benny.
But if it's that bad, then I'll help you end it." Vecchio drew in a sharp,
shuddering breath. "I'll do us both."

"No," Ben gasped as he threw himself
across the other man. His hands flew
over the yielding body of his partner as the Mountie became desperate to feel the other man's flesh, even in this limited fashion.

"Ben," Ray moaned.

"Anything, Ray? Anything?" Ben asked as his hands roamed freely over the body
beneath him. Fraser easily open ray's
buckled and zipper, he was forced to
concentrate in order to remove the other man's pants.

Vecchio had long, slender, olive-hued
legs. Ben had rarely seen Ray's legs. He certainly had never seen them
trembling. The Mountie allowed his hands to roam.

Hooking his thumbs underneath Ray's
briefs, Ben unveiled the smaller man's
cock and balls by pulling them all the
way off.

"Anything," Ray responded as he spread
his thighs to Ben's explorations.
"Anything," he moaned.

Ben had only shared his bed with three
other men, but he found himself unable to recall them at all now that he had Ray
Vecchio nude and trembling.

Ben grabbed the smaller man's face and
held it firmly. If he had been in his
body, he would have left bruises. But
Ray was not to going to offer himself to Ben just as a tease. "Ray, I don't want just anything." He bit the other man's throat and was delighted when Ray jumped. It pushed their groins together and Ben *felt* it, truly felt it. "I want
everything. Do you understand me, Ray? I want everything--your body, your mind, your soul, and your love. Give me
everything." Ben burned a kiss into the other man's mouth which left Ray gasping.

"Everything," Ray panted. "Everything," he repeated.

Real world physics were no longer Ben's concern. He pushed Ray's knees up and
back, then plunged his cock inside the
other man's ass. Ray arched. His
reaction was not of man being taken
without lubrication but of a man being
touched in all his secret places.

If Ray was protesting, Ben didn't care. If Ray was begging him to slow down, Ben didn't listen. He fucked Ray like the
madman he knew lay just below his cool, professional exterior. His control, his discipline, his facade of righteousness slipped away as he pounded into the
smaller man.

Ray, his beautiful Ray, was with him at last. If this was his one and only time to have the tantalizing man, then he
would make this the lovemaking session he had spent so many nights dreaming.

"Ben, Ben, Ben," Ray chanted as he pushed up to meet Benton's thrusts.

Even in this ghostly form, Ray Vecchio
was just too much man for Benton. He
came and melted into his friend. Fraser could feel himself flow across and into the smaller man, finally traveling out of his friend's body, along his arm, and
into his own body where their fingers
met.

Fraser opened his eyes and stared into
the darkened room. Carefully, he turned his head and gazed into the adoring eyes of his friend. Ray looked oddly serene considering the fact that his clothes
were pushed aside so haphazardly, plus
the fact that his thighs were spread
wide.

"Ray?" he managed to croak.

Vecchio moved fluidly to his feet,
pulling his clothes back together as he did. "Welcome back, Benny." The
detective poured his friend a glass of
water and held the straw to Fraser's
lips. "Take a sip."

Benton sipped the water gratefully.
"Thanks, Ray." Vecchio turned on the
light, and Ben got his first good look at his friend. Despite the intensity of
their first time together, Ben had not
left the other man mauled. It was a
relief and a disappointment.

If he was paralyzed, then he had failed to leave the lasting impression that
meant Ray would remember him, perhaps
with fondness, perhaps with smugness for having survived Ben's unrestrained
passion, but, by God, Ben would be
remembered.

Worst of all, Ben had lost cohesion
before Ray could cum. That made him a
bad lover.

"Ben, should I call the nurse?" Ray asked softly.

"No, I want to know my situation before they get here."

Ray didn't even ask what Ben meant.
Vecchio had given his word to help Ben, and Ray was a man of his word. "Here we go." Vecchio moved the covers back.

Ray ran his long fingers along Ben's
palms, and down his arms to his armpits. Ben stifled a laugh as those teasing
digits threatened to reduce the Mountie to girlish giggles. Down, down, those
hands went until he gasped as Ray held
his cock. "I feel it," he said with
pride.

"So do I," Ray smirked. "It's as big as it felt inside me."

"Oh, Ray, did I hurt you?" Ben sat up. He winced, but he could do it.

"No, Benny, you didn't hurt me. I wanted it." He suddenly chuckled. "I mean it wasn't *really* you, just your...
essence." He grinned. "It's funny--"

"What?" Ben asked, perplexed.

"I don't know what's more unbelievable-- the fact that I lost my virginity to a
ghost or that Benton Fraser loves me."

"Oh, Ray," Ben nearly choked up with
regret. He had ravaged the man, taking the gift of his virginity and abusing it. "I should have--"

"Taken me just like you did," Ray
finished. He moved his hands down the
Mountie's legs. "Can you still feel my hands?"

"Yes," Ben responded. "You're working
your thumbs in little half-circles as you move down." He flinched when the other man's fingernails scrubbed the soles of his feet. "I can feel that too."

"Good," Ray said firmly as he pulled the covers back in place. He was reaching
for the nurses' buzzer when Ben stopped him. "What?"

"I want to do something before we're the center of too much attention." Ben
reached out, grabbed Ray's wrists, and
pulled the other man closer. "Let me
kiss you."

Ray didn't protest as their lips met. He jumped slightly when Ben pushed his
tongue into the smaller man's mouth. Ray took control of the kiss, turning his
head and devouring Ben's mouth.

No one had ever kissed him this well
before. No one. Ben's toes tingled as they alternated between spreading wide
and clinching tight. Toe curling. He'd heard the phrase before, but had never
truly experienced it.

"Hmmm, Benny, just as good as I dreamed it would be," Ray purred. The man's
voice was so smoky it should have been
banned because of the riots it could
cause.

"Ray, I want to--" Ben hesitated. How
could he tell his friend what he wanted?

"What do you want, Benny? You can tell me. You can tell me anything."

Ben looked up at Ray through his lashes and confessed. "I want to taste you."

Ray shook his head. "Ben, you want to
put the strangest things into your
mouth." Vecchio opened his pants and
took his semi-rigid cock out.

Ben actually felt his mouth water. Ray sank his fingers into Benny's hair and
guided himself into Ben's mouth.

Ray had the smoky taste of something very exotic. He was spicy and musky, clean, and delicious. He was a singularly
unique taste to which Ben knew he had
become instantly addicted.

~Use my mouth,~ Ben thought. ~Use it.
Fill it. Take it. Oh, Gawd!~ Ben's
finger's clutched at the firm buttocks of his partner as Ray stroked in and out of his mouth. Time was no longer important as he *reveled* in the feel of Raymond
Vecchio's huge cock filling his mouth so gently and so fully.

As Ray started to cum, Ben held on tight, sucking greedily to take every precious drop into his mouth.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Benny,
but you're a *hell* of a cocksucker," Ray whispered as he ran his fingers through Ben's hair.

Panting, Ben rubbed his face against
Ray's softening organ. "How could... How could I take that the wrong way?"

Ray tilted the other man's chin up. "I guess you can't."

Ben placed a final kiss on Ray's cock
before replacing it into the smaller
man's slacks. "Can I do that often when I get out of here?"

Ray chuckled. "I'll *insist* on it."
Ray filled another cup with water and
held it for his friend. "And Benny, when we do the horizontal mambo for real next time, we use lube."

"Of course, Ray," Ben responded
reasonably. "Real flesh requires
lubrication."

"And dinner," Ray prompted.

"Yes, dinner would be lovely," Ben
responded as he made himself more
comfortable on the bed.

Ray reached out and stroked Fraser's
face. "And I'd like to take you away on a trip, just the two of us. Or maybe the three of us, with Diefenbaker. If we
leave him with Ma, he'll weigh a couple hundred pounds by the time you get him
back."

Ben kissed the other man's palm. "I
think he'll be fine with your family
while we're away. I'd like for it to be just the two of us."

Ray leaned over and kissed Ben gently on the lips. "Sure, Benny, that'll be just fine."

--The End ?--