Title: Strange Glue Part Four - Sorrow Floats Author: necessary angel
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski, Kowalski/Other Rating: NC17 for m/m interaction and bad language Disclaimer: They belong to Alliance still? The title of main story comes from the song of the same name by Catatonia. Spoilers: For everything up to and including Dr. Longball. And a tiny incidental one for The Ladies's Man but nothing of any importance. Summary: There is nothing like history. Feedback: Oh, yes please necessary_angel@yahoo.com Notes: This is fourth part of a longer RayK/Fraser story. There are five parts in total. This one is set in the gap between Dr. Longball and Easy Money.

Many thanks to Megan for fast and excellent beta and for persuading me not to tinker with what works.

For Caroline Alert again.

Sorrow Floats

"Rick!"

The scream seems to echo, vibrating through my bones. I'm sitting up in my bed, not in Rick's apartment, and there is no blood on my hands.

No blood.

None.

I gulp in some air, trying to force the remains of my dinner to stay in my stomach.

"Ray?" Fraser's hand warm and very dry against the cold damp skin of my back. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Just."

I bolt for the bathroom. I've just enough sense to lock the door behind me. The same instinct sends me to the cold floor, my head between my legs. The room is still swaying and swinging around me but I don't feel like I'm going to lose it totally. Not now. I really hate throwing up, that's one of the reasons I hate visiting Mort in his little den.

Rick's funeral this time. It's the first time I have had one of these dreams with Fraser sleeping next to me. I lean my head back against the wall and take a few deep breaths.

In, out, in out.

Not enough to stop the room spinning around my aching head but it helps a little.

Sharp rap rap of Fraser's knuckles on the door, "Ray are you alright in there? Ray."

"Yeah." I swallow back the acid taste. "I'm fine. Go back to bed."

"Ray, you are obviously not fine." Another sharp rap on the door, but not as sharp as the worry in his voice.

"Ben, Jesus. Yer not going to go away are you?"

"No, and I would hate to break the lock on the door."

"You don't mean that." My sleep fuzzy brain just can't wrap itself around the idea of Fraser breaking down my bathroom door.

"Don't I? Open the door, please, Ray."

"Okay, okay, Jesus; gimme a moment won't ya."

I pull myself to my feet; my legs are shaking and aching like I've been running for miles. I unlock the door and it pushes open as soon as I release the lock. Fraser is standing in the doorway, jeans hanging loosely on his slim hips. Abruptly I'm aware that I'm naked and I don't need to feel any more bare than I already do.

"Here." Fraser hands me my sweats. Sometimes I'm almost certain he is psychic.

The soft cotton of the sweats scrapes over the skin on my legs but I do feel better with them on. I can't take the soft, open look in Fraser's eyes or the questions I can see hovering, waiting to be unleashed, so I move over to the sink. I turn on the cold faucet and splash my face. That helps, so I duck my whole head under the stream of water.

Fraser is gone when I pull my head out. I rub a towel roughly over my head and the faint creak of the door warns me of my partner's return.

"Hey."

"I thought you might need these." He hands me two aspirin and a glass of water.

He is psychic.

"Thanks. Yeah, I do."

I swallow the pills and look up, bracing myself. I just know Fraser is ready to politely pull out my teeth.

"Let's go back to bed. It's late." He's already turning to the door.

I follow Fraser back to my bed, still waiting for the interrogation to begin.

It doesn't.

Fraser is spooned loosely around me, his breathing is quiet and even. I twist my head to squint at him and he's watching me carefully, like I might explode at any second.

"Go to sleep, Ray." A small smile but his eyes are still dark with worry.

"Yer gonna stay?" I hate the croak in my voice but I have to know.

"Yes, go to sleep." His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me back against the warmth of his broad chest.

"Yes, sir. Oh, and Ben, thanks."

"Sleep, Ray." Nothing but steady affection is in his quiet voice.

His warmth is leaching the cold from my bones and I give into the heavy weight tugging at my eyes.

===

"Vecchio!"

Welsh is lying in wait for me as I get into work the next day. Fraser had been gone when I woke up. I'd a vague memory of coolness and unexpected space in my bed some unknown time before the alarm had dragged me into the day.

I was cool with him leaving; he wakes up earlier than anyone else in the city so it wasn't a big surprise. Fraser had spent the night in my bed and despite the fact it'd taken me waking us by screaming my guts out for him to finally stay, it didn't take any of the warm feeling away.

"Vecchio! Are you with me here?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Our poison pen pal has been at work again. Huey and Dewey are out starting the evidence gathering. I want you to go down to City Hall and follow up there. Was there anything in your mail box this morning?"

"Delivery hadn't been made when I left. I'll call Fraser and ask him if he has gotten any nasty surprises."

I grab a cup of coffee to go; I need as much help as I can get before I face the maze of City Hall. I call Fraser on the way to the car.

"Canadian Consulate, Constable Benton Fraser."

"Fraser, it's me. Did ya get any messages from our friend this morning?"

"Ah Ray, I was just about to contact you. I received a parcel from our friend, as you phrase it."

"What was it?"

I am almost at my car now and I scrunch the phone between my shoulder and ear so that I can fish my keys out.

"I think you better come and see that for yourself."

"On my way. I'll make a pass past my building to check my mail first."

Fraser is on the reception desk when I get to the Consulate. He looks as unnaturally neat and well pressed as ever, no traces of the night we'd spent showing at all.

"Good Morning, Ray."

"Hey, Fraze; so whatcha got?"

"It's in my office. Turnbull, will you take over for a few minutes?"

"Certainly, Sir."

There is a large cardboard box on Fraser's desk. I slip on some disposable gloves and flip the lid open. The remains of a champagne bottle, a newspaper clipping about the second attempt on Orsini's life, except it hadn't been, and a business card from The Oriole.

"That all fits."

"I am not sure I understand." Fraser's watching me with his head slightly on one side.

I hand him the white envelope that had been waiting in my mail box, containing the newspaper clipping featuring Stella's last big case.

"Hmm." Fraser is holding the cutting up to the light.

"We've been really D U M, dumb, Fraze."

"So it would appear. It seems safe to hypothesize that the person behind these crimes has some connection to Orsini or to the Manor Point project."

"Orsini's in jail, Manor Point is on hold until the developers get some clean money or a big enough bribe to get another alderman or two in their pockets. He slipped up Fraze; this is our way in. He's showed his hand."

"It would seem to be our first real breakthrough." Fraser hands the clipping back to me.

"Listen, I'll get this lot back so that Forensics can give it the once over. You stuck here all day?"

"Yes, I am afraid so."

"Ah well. We won't get the results, as if they will be any use, until tomorrow at the earliest and I have to get to City Hall. Shall I pick ya up tonight?"

"Yes, as you wish."

I almost out of the door when he adds the words that I know have been hovering in the air since I screamed out my ex-lover's name.

"Ray, we need to talk, tonight."

"Ya think?"

"Yes I do, Ray."

I'm not so sure about that, but Fraser is way more stubborn than I am. I've my moments, but Fraser never lets go once he gets his teeth into something. Yeah we need to talk, but I'm not at all sure that we should, I know there is nothing I can say that will wipe out last night. Still, burying my head and not talking to Stella ended with us in the divorce court, so what do I know?

"Ray, Ray, Ray!"

I shake myself, Fraser's familiar chant breaking through as it always does.

"Are you okay?" He is too close to me and I take a step back. He isn't any closer than he normally is but that's way too close this morning.

"Yeah, I'm fine, see ya tonight."

All at once I am glad I'm on my way to City Hall and that Fraser is staying at the Consulate.

"Goodbye, Ray, until this evening."

City Hall was pretty much a bust as far as turning up any real evidence for this case, too many people, too many possibilities. Still, it takes time to get nowhere, and it is well past lunch time before I can head back to the 27.

I drop the parcel and the clipping on Frannie's desk. "Can you get these down to the lab and get them to move them along as fast as possible?"

"Sure, no problem. Oh, and Ray, I think you should."

"Later, Frannie, I need some coffee and something to eat." I head to the lunchroom.

"But, Ray!"

"Just gimme a few minutes here, Fran."

Frannie is on the phone when I make my way back to my desk armed with coffee and food. She signals at me frantically but I've no idea what she's trying to get at, so I just sit down and start in on my coffee. I barely take a sip of the first cup of coffee I've had in hours when almost the last person I feel like seeing today is standing next to my desk.

"Hello, Ray."

"Stella." I choke on the bare mouthful of coffee. I wave off the hand she raises to pat on my back and draw a few clean breaths of air into my lungs.

"Can we go somewhere to talk?"

"Sure." I lead her off to Interview One.

She looks good; tired but good. She is wearing my favorite dark grey suit. I can't read her at all, she seems as poised and cool as ever but she is tenser than I've seen her in a long time. The anger isn't directed at me, that much I'm sure of; I've been on the receiving end of Stella's temper often enough to know. I can always tell, even when she hides it behind the glass walls she puts up so fast when I am around. It used to be that I was the only one she let inside the walls, and later my mother. Now it is just my Mom who gets to see Stella without the shields up.

"So what's this about?"

I'm leaning against the wall watching her pace up and down.

"It's work, Ray. We're working here."

A little bit of the edge and snap are back in her voice and I'm glad of it, I think. It is easier somehow to maintain the space I need when she is pushing me away. I've known Stella more than half my life and even though I no longer get that deep down ache whenever I see her, it's hard to resist the pull of history. No one will ever know me in the same way Stella does and that I miss, I think I always will.

"I knew that, I knew that, Stel, so what's on your mind?"

"Welsh tells me you're the Investigating Officer on the poison pen case."

I nod; so, maybe Stella too. Yeah, it's all starting to fit into place. I can feel Stella's eyes on me and I drag my attention back to her. She's sitting down, all business now, and I move over and perch on the edge of the desk.

"Yes, well; I got an anonymous message this morning, and I wondered if it was random or is there a connection?"

"It's pretty good odds there is a connection. Whatcha got?"

She searches through her attach case and hands me an envelope, plain white, cheap, like all the others.

"This was delivered to your home address?"

"Yes. I only opened it about half an hour ago. I was running late and I had a stack of mail so I used my lunch break to get through it."

"There is no address, though, just your name." I slide my fingers inside the envelope.

"Is that important? "

"Yes, if this is the same guy. It might be the...er, the break we're looking for."

Another newspaper clipping, one of the more lurid headlines from the Manor Point scandal just after it had hit, a small fuzzy horrible picture of Orsini and Stella at the bottom of the page.

"Well, do you think it is part of your case?" Stella is leaning closer now and I close my eyes against the clean scent of her perfume.

"Yeah, I'm pretty certain it is. Fraser and I got similar messages this morning."

"I see. So when you said this was the break you were looking for, what did you mean? "

I'm up and pacing now. "Your building has cameras in the lobby, doesn't it?"

"Yes...and as this was hand delivered..."

"There's a chance he's on tape. He's smart though so...but, er, it is a chance, the first real chance we've had."

"That's good, Ray."

Her smile is free and real.

"Listen, I got to go see Welsh, but can ya give a statement to Huey before ya go? I mean, if yer due in Court or something."

"Ray, I have time to give my statement. Let's go."

I have to laugh at the familiar look of exasperation and amusement on her face. There is nothing like history and she knows exactly why I'm laughing. It's enough to set her off too, and we leave Interview One giggling like idiots and it's the best thing that's happened all day.

It had been a very quiet afternoon at the Consulate and so Fraser had managed to obtain permission from Inspector Thatcher to leave early. In truth, she had seemed hardly aware of his request, her manner much more distant and abstracted than normal. Fraser had wondered whether he should ascertain if anything was wrong, but his relief at escaping the somewhat dull confines of the Consulate was too great, and he had taken the opportunity with both hands.

Ray isn't answering his cell phone, which suggests that he is at the 27th Precinct, and so Fraser heads over to the Station House as soon as he has changed out of his uniform. Ray and himself will undoubtedly be spending the evening together, and while he is normally comfortable in his uniform, today he can't wait to shed it. He feels much happier in his most comfortable jeans and a denim shirt.

Waking to his partner's screams in the middle of the night had disturbed him far more than he had allowed himself to reveal at the time. Ray had been so pale and he had been trembling so hard. He'd never seen his partner as scared and vulnerable as he had been the previous night. A small part of Fraser was very scared about just why Ray had been dreaming about his ex-partner and his ex-lover. That small part had been more than relieved when the rest of him decided that the last thing Ray needed was an interrogation as to the causes of his dream.

He had seen the reluctance and the flash of fear in his partner's face at the Consulate when he had insisted that they needed to talk. They do need to talk; Fraser is almost certain he has discovered the source of Ray's recent prolonged bout of insomnia, but part of him, that same small part of him, shares his partner's reluctance and his fear. He doesn't want to disturb the delicate balance of their relationship. The last few days have been some of the best he has ever experienced in his life, and that balance may be lost forever if they talk.

They do need to talk; Ray and he do not handle secrets well.

They need to talk.

As always it is about communication. They managed to sort out their professional communication problems but the personal ones are still dogging them. Fraser can only trust that they can find their way through this as they did the near-dissolution of their partnership.

But that can wait, has to wait. Work as always comes first. It has to.

Ray is not at his desk, but the untouched sandwich and the now-cold cup of coffee suggest that he can't be far away.

"Do you know where Ray is, Francesa?"

"Oh hi, Fraser, I didn't expect to see you this afternoon. Ray's in Interview One."

"Thank you kindly."

Francesa seems about to say something else when her telephone rings and she has to answer it.

Ray and Stella are leaving Interview One as Fraser makes his way down the corridor. Both are laughing, and Fraser can't ever remember seeing his friend look so relaxed or happy in his ex-wife's company.

Apart from that time they had danced together.

Fraser shakes himself. "Good afternoon Ray, Ms. Kowalski."

"Hey Fraze, whatcha doing here? Things have been shaking down. We've got another break. Hang on, I just need to see Welsh."

Fraser can only trail in his partner's rapid wake. He hasn't felt this disconcerted since the day he first met Ray Kowalski, and he has to suppress a sudden hysterical impulse to laugh. No one has ever knocked him off balance like Ray, and it looks like that is never going to change.

Ray drops an evidence bag on Francesa's desk. "Another hot and urgent one, Frannie." His wink is as flirtatious as any Fraser has ever seen.

His next stop is at Detective Huey's desk. "Huey, can ya take Stella's statement, she got an anonymous letter this morning."

"Yeah, sure, Ray."

"Thanks; see ya later Stel."

"Bye, Ray."

Stella Kowalski's face and manner are far gentler than the usual off-hand, cold demeanor she usually employs towards his partner. Fraser knows he should be happy that they appear to be able to behave at last in a more civil and friendly fashion to each other. He knows he should be even happier that his partner doesn't have that just been kicked look in his eyes, but he isn't. The cold copper lumps in his stomach and throat are not even close to what he should be feeling, to what is appropriate.

"Come on, Fraze, let's get at it. I'll explain it to you and Welsh at the same time."

"Of course, Ray."

Fraser pushes his personal concerns firmly to one side, glad of the distraction of work. He follows Ray into Lieutenant Welsh's office.

"Well, Vecchio, what are you looking so pleased about?"

"I think we've got our first break on the poison pen case, Sir."

Ray is bouncing almost imperceptibly on the balls of his feet.

"What have you got?"

"There is a definite pointer to the suspect being someone at City Hall. Fraser and I got more messages this morning and it all links back to Orsini."

"Hey, slow down Detective, you missed a couple of steps."

Fraser steps in. "If I may, Sir; I received a parcel this morning containing an empty champagne bottle, a newspaper clipping detailing the original bomb attack and a card from The Oriole."

"And I got a newspaper clipping, as did Stella."

"Stella? What does she have to do...okay, I get the picture, but how does that leave us any further forward?"

"Stella's letter was hand delivered to her apartment building, no address, nothing. There is lotsa fancy security at Stel's place including cameras in the lobby."

"So the suspect may be on tape... Francesa, get in here!"

Lieutenant Welsh is up from his desk and at the door of his office almost before Fraser can move out of his way.

"It's a slim chance, Sir; the person behind this crime seems too clever to make such an elementary mistake."

"Very true, Constable, but even the slimmest chances have to be pursued."

"Sir, you rang?" Francesa is standing in the doorway, smiling.

"Ah, Ms. Vecchio. Get me a warrant for the security tapes at Ms. Kowalski's place of residence. Get it fast; I want the tapes for the last forty-eight hours."

"Yes, Sir."

Ray is scribbling in his notebook, "This is the address, Frannie, save ya looking it up."

"Thanks." Francesa is looking at Ray in an almost assessing manner, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Get on it, Francesa, I want those tapes today. Detective, Constable, see what other connections to Orsini you can drag out of today's haul."

===

"Conference room, I think; more room in there."

Fraser has to lengthen his stride to keep up with Ray's pace. His partner is in a very good mood. A much better mood than he had been at the Consulate that morning. Fraser loves seeing Ray in such good humor but he can't help wondering about the cause of this ebullient mood. He wishes he could believe that it is entirely due to the sudden breakthrough in this case.

"I'll just collect the files, you make sure it's free, Fraze. Hey Frazuh, ya with me?"

"Hmm, just thinking. I am sorry, Ray. Conference room, yes?"

"Yeah, Fraze, conference room."

Fraser has barely removed his leather jacket and seated himself when Ray comes through the doors, his arms full of files.

"Oh, did I tell ya there is a good chance we may get a partial print off the champagne bottle that was in your surprise present this morning?"

"No, I don't believe you mentioned it, but that is very good news."

"Yeah, things are really starting to cook on this one, Fraze. I've got a good feeling about it."

Ray is standing by the white board fiddling with the pens.

"So how do you want to go about this, Ray?"

"Well, this lot is what turned up this morning. I thought we'd start with those, and see if we can make any connections back to what's been sent in the past."

"You mean, now that we suspect what the connection is, we might be able to see a pattern that wasn't obvious before."

"Fresh eyes, fresh er... perspective."

"It is definitely worth a shot."

"Okay, let's get at it then."

Fraser stands and moves to study the chart Ray has been making over the last couple of hours on the white board.

"Come on, Fraze, spit it out. What are ya seeing that I'm not?"

Ray is sitting on the end of the large table, his chin resting on his hands. Fraser grabs the red pen and circles six names in the far-left column.

"These people always receive the same letters but in a different order. It is a random pattern, but they are the only duplicate letters or parcels."

"Yer right, why didn't I see that? They also always get the nastiest stuff."

Ray is beside him now, staring up at the chart, a little frown pulling his brows together.

"So, what's the connection?" Fraser has no idea who these people are, not even vague suggestions of faces come to mind when he looks at the list.

"Same committee or something, I guess. Let's see what Frannie can dig up."

Ray scribbles down the names while Fraser puts the files in order.

"I told ya I'd a good feeling about this."

"Indeed you did." Fraser can't resist Ray's good humor any longer and smiles back.

Ray winks at him. "At last." He mutters quietly in Fraser's ear as they leave the conference room.

"What?"

But it is too late; they are back in the swirl and rush of the Squad Room.

"Frannie, Frannie!"

"Jeez, does everyone have to yell around here? What is it, Ray, I am just about to head off."

"We need you to find a connection between these names for us Francesa, but it can wait until tomorrow."

"If you are sure, Fraser, I don't mind."

"Francesa, it is likely to be a long job as we are not entirely certain if there is a connection."

"Go home, Fran; it's well past the end of your shift, but look at it first thing for us, will ya?"

"Yes, of course. Oh, by the way, those security tapes have arrived. Welsh sent me to look for ya both."

"Why didn't ya say so? C'mon, Fraze. G'night."

"Thank you kindly, and good night, Francesa."

"Good night, Fraser, Bro."

"Ah, there you are Detective, Constable."

Lieutenant Welsh is in the doorway of his office. He looks tired, his shirt is wrinkled and his tie is half way down his chest but he is smiling despite his gruff tone.

The images on the tapes are the usual poor quality that all security tapes seem to possess, but luckily one of the cameras seems to look directly at the mailboxes in the lobby.

"We should get something that the lab boys can clean up from that camera, if your guy shows."

"Shall we start with yesterday's tape and work backward, Sir?"

"That'd be best."

Fraser cues up the tape and the three of them start the tedious task of reviewing it.

"Do we know what time the mail delivery was, and what time Ms. Kowalski left for work?"

Ray somehow has Stella's statement. Fraser hadn't seen him abstract it from the file.

"Mail delivery was about 8:15 and Stella picked up her mail about 8:45. She was running late."

Lieutenant Welsh's eyebrows rise at the smirk in Ray's voice but he says nothing, reserving his comments for the matter at hand.

"Let's look at the period from 7:45 on. If there's nothing there, we go back half an hour at a time from 7:45."

"Okay, pitter patter."

They watch the tape in silence for several minutes.

"Wait, look there, roll it back." Ray is on his feet, finger pointing at the screen. "Back to about five to eight."

"There. What is it, Ray?"

"Ssh, Fraze, let it play. There."

An indistinct figure is approaching the mailboxes from the wrong direction; that is, from the entrance. The figure puts something in one of the mailboxes and leaves, returning in the same direction from which it entered the camera field. It is impossible to note which mailbox the person was interested in.

"That is a definite possibility. I just wish the tape was better quality."

"Oh yeah, you and me both, Fraze." Ray is writing down the time code.

"Let it play a while longer Constable, just in case."

They fast-forward through the tape, watching the mail delivery, and then the lobby gets busy as people leave for work. No one puts anything in the mailboxes as far as they can tell. They watch until Stella picks up her mail. Again, it is impossible to determine whether her mailbox is the one that the figure used, although it appears to be in the right general area.

"Okay, I think we have a possible suspect. Good work, gentlemen."

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" Ray's grin is bright despite the punishing day he has put in so far.

"Get that tape ready for the lab boys and then get outta here. Don't ya have homes to go to?"

"So whatcha wanna do for food? I'm starving. I just remembered my lunch is still on my desk."

Ray is stretched out on his couch, the shadows under his eyes betraying the long day and his disturbed night. Fraser looks at his watch again, not quite believing that it is really that late, but it is almost ten o' clock. He is wandering restlessly around his partner's apartment. He has dropped his determination to talk to Ray. They are both too tired and he doesn't want to destroy Ray's now somewhat quieter but still very good humor.

"I think we ought to eat soon. It's getting late."

"Yeah, yer right. Is Dief gonna be okay?"

"It's alright. Constable Turnbull kindly agreed to take care of him before I left the Consulate."

"He'll still make you pay though. Dief, I mean." Ray has sat up now.

"I am sure you are correct, Ray. What shall we order?"

"Pizza's easy."

"Shall I order then? I believe it is my turn to pay."

"Knock yerself out. I'm gonna shower quickly."

Despite Ray's words, the pizza arrives just as he pads out of the bathroom, dressed in sweats and the most washed out black T-shirt that Fraser has ever seen.

"That was good timing." Ray is rummaging for a soda. "I've some of that bark tea if you want it?"

Fraser smiles. "Not with pizza, water will be fine for me. I'll have some tea later."

Ray sighs contentedly as he savors his first bite of pizza, and that is the last Fraser hears from him until he has devoured his share of the pizza.

"That's so much better."

"You really shouldn't forget to eat, Ray. It isn't like you at all."

"I know, just had one of those days."

Ray's arm is tucking itself around Fraser's, his head dropping onto his shoulder. He nudges the remote control for the CD player with his free hand. Soft jazz falls quietly out of the speakers.

Fraser puts down his last slice of pizza; he really doesn't have the room for it anyway. His arm is round Ray's shoulders before he realizes it. Ray moves closer, his free hand resting on Fraser's chest. They sit quietly without moving as the CD spins out the music.

Fraser is far from certain how long they have been there when Ray's hand starts tracing circles on his chest, never touching his nipple. His touch changes, he is using the edge of his nail. Fraser shivers at the tantalizing almost scrape, goosebumps rising on his skin despite the relative thickness of his shirt. He moves his own free hand, sliding it under Ray's chin, lifting his head from his shoulder so that he can kiss him.

Slow, soft, lips barely touching, so different from anything they have been together so far. Fraser is almost afraid to breathe in case something breaks this gentle languor. Ray deepens the kiss but it is still slow. His tongue moving in little flickers over Fraser's teeth and then lightly twisting against Fraser's own tongue. Ray pulls back from the kiss.

"Ben, shall we move this to the bed?"

"Mmm."

Fraser is almost sure that the mood will break in their shifting, clinging stumble from the couch to the bed. But it doesn't; Ray's hands separate his clothes from his own body and then work on raser's. Their mouths touching, nipping and exploring.

Ray's hands almost aren't touching him as they skim over his body and Fraser can't believe that so gentle a touch can have such a devastating effect on him. He rolls them over, pinning his partner beneath his body. He needs more than the languid teasing touch he has been given so far by Ray. The lean hard warm body presses against him properly for the first time and his breath catches. He lowers his head, nipping at Ray's sulky lower lip and then dipping in to taste him again. He tastes of pizza and then that indefinable sweetness which Fraser has come to associate with this man.

The glide of skin against skin is still slow as he moves over the lean man beneath him, but the heat is building. He fits their hips together, breath hissing out at the touch of Ray's swollen erection against his own.

Ray's hands are firmer against his back but still agonizingly slow as he traces the muscles and the lines of Fraser's spine. One hand trails down, dragging nails across the rounded muscle of his ass. Fraser reaches one hand between, slipping it around the slick lengths of their erections. Ray groans at his touch, the first sound his normally vocal partner has made since this started. Ray's hips buck up, pushing against him, pushing into his grip. Fraser tightens his hold and lets the slender hips beneath set the pace, a much harder, faster pace. The snap and roll of those hips is relentless and all Fraser can do is follow.

Ray is arching and twisting beneath him now, a steady stream of groans and half-muttered words spilling out of his mouth.

"Oh God Ben, that's it. Oh yeah."

A final arch and push and warm liquid is pulsing along his hot swollen cock. Fraser thrusts into that warmth and then the white wall of pleasure hits him across the back of his head.

"Oh, Jesus." Ray is half laughing, half-yawning. "It just keeps getting better but I'm wiped Ben. I'm gonna crash any second."

He throws the T-shirt he has been using to clean them on the floor beside the bed and lies back against the pillows, still chuckling.

"Then crash." Fraser raises his head from where he has flopped next to his partner. "I don't think I'll be far behind you."

His partner raises a lazy arm and fits his hand around the curve of Fraser's skull.

"C'mere first."

Fraser allows himself to be pulled close for a long, deep kiss and then pushes back against Ray's hand.

"Just go to sleep, eh?"

"Mmm, night, Ben."

"Good night, Ray."

Fraser has almost left Ray's apartment when he hears the noise. A low moan and mumble. Another slightly louder; he moves as quietly as he can back to the bedroom. Light from the gaps in the curtains show him that Ray is twisting and shifting beneath the thin sheet that is all that still covers him.

Fraser hovers in the doorway wondering whether he should wake his partner. He hadn't been aware that Ray suffered so extensively from nightmares.

Ray's hips are twisting in a strangely familiar pattern, and Fraser abruptly realizes that it is not a nightmare, far from a nightmare. He covers his mouth as a little gasp breaks out, the surge of heat in his face and groin almost painful. Watching his partner like this is somehow much more intimate than anything they have done together in that bed.

The moans are getting louder; Ray's hips thrusting more blatantly under the thin sheet. Fraser is moving closer, helpless to resist this display from his partner. He knows he should leave, this is more than an invasion of privacy, but he can't move.

"Rick."

The longing in that word freezes Fraser where he stands, all his delight solidifying in his stomach.

He bends almost double.

Ray is dreaming about Rick, in the bed where...

Oh God.

Fraser stumbles from the room uncaring of any noise he might make. He has to get out, get away.

The cold night air cools the flush in his cheeks somewhat, but does nothing for the lump where his stomach should be.

The buildings surrounding him seem far too close, far too big. Leaving Ray's apartment is not enough. He starts the long walk back to the Consulate almost mechanically.

All he can see is Ray's body twisting and thrusting under the sheet.

All he can hear is that low voiced plea "Rick".

Walking is beginning to calm him. Ray dreaming of his old lover is not unusual. After all, he still dreams of Victoria and Ray Vecchio. The nightmares are more than understandable, but the sheer erotic longing in Ray's voice when he had murmured his ex-lover's name had rattled Fraser beyond anything he could have imagined. He's never heard Ray say his name in quite that way and he needs him to, now that he knows it is possible for Ray to sound like that, almost maddened with need.

Oh God; he shivers suddenly, hearing Ray's voice saying his name in that same voice. He can almost taste the sweat on his partner's skin and feel the slick hot firm slide of him in his mouth. He stops walking for a moment; his legs are shaking and he feels more than a little light headed. Fraser waits for the momentary weakness to pass and it seems to take a long time before he feels capable of continuing his journey.

Fraser sickens himself, he should feel more shame than this; it is a new low to be jealous of a dead man. He can accept that he feels a certain amount of antagonism towards Stella Kowalski. He isn't proud of it but he can justify it to himself by dwelling on her appalling behavior to his partner.

He is almost at the Consulate and he slows his pace. He needs to talk to Ray, but Fraser knows he will break their fragile new relationship if he does it now. This side of him will come pouring out, tainting everything beyond salvage.

The few days that Ray had spent in Mexico had clarified their relationship. That's it; he needs to get out of Chicago, to go home for a few days. Fraser can almost feel the clean crispness of the air against his face. Decision made he runs up the steps to the Consulate. He will speak to Inspector Thatcher in the morning.

It's late when I get back my apartment, very late but the lights are on.

Fraser's here.

I hadn't been able to get hold of him all day. It's unusual for me not to talk to him at least once, especially when we've got a case cooking.

Fraser's here. How long has he been waiting?

I stop outside my door, a chill twisting my stomach.

Fraser's here and he hadn't called me. My cell phone's been quiet all night. I pull it out to check. Yeah, switched on.

My shift ended hours ago and Fraser hadn't called.

Fraser's in my apartment, waiting.

The twisting in my stomach is now a hard full knot.

I open the door and go in. Fraser's there. Sitting on my couch, still in uniform, and still in his coat, Stetson placed carefully on the coffee table in front of him. No glass, no cup or anything.

"Hey, Fraze."

"Good evening, Ray." Careful and polite, no warmth and not even a trace of a smile.

"Sorry, I had some things to do after work. I didn't expect it to take so long that."

"Of course, Ray. I realize that we hadn't made any arrangements for this evening, but I needed to speak to you."

"And I have to talk to you, too."

He looks at me properly for the first time since I walked into the apartment.

"Something's happened, something good I can only assume?"

"You could say that, Ben, you could say that. Sort of, anyway. You eaten?"

"Yes, I had an early dinner."

I know Fraser sometimes doesn't bother changing after work, but since we started sleeping together he leaves the serge at the Consulate. His way of keeping things in the right boxes I guess. Seeing him in uniform, still with his fucking coat on, pushes me on to the wrong foot again. I thought I'd got past that stage, that feeling, but it is back again and I hate it even more than I did before.

"Good, that's good. I've already eaten and I don't want ya passing out on me."

I try for light and teasing but it comes out flat.

"That isn't going to be a problem, Ray."

Fraser is as deadpan as I've ever seen him. I check for a twinkle or a smile. Nothing, not even the vaguest suggestion that he even noticed my efforts at knocking the tension down a level or two.

If anything I've ratcheted it up an extra level or more.

Where did this come from?

Apart from the dreams, things have really been rocking recently and Fraser had only been there for the nightmare. He wasn't there to see me waking in a sweaty, horny knot of sheets sometime in the dark hours of this morning.

Yeah, really rocking, Kowalski, you fuckhead.

Fraser had already left by the time I woke up; for once I'd been more glad than sad about his habit of getting out of town after a couple of hours sleep. My face is hot, and I hunt down a beer, hoping I'll cool off before I have to look at Fraser again.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, Ray?"

"Yeah, yeah." I open my beer. "Want anything to drink, Fraze?"

"No, thank you. Actually, yes. Some tea would be just the thing."

" Ya got it. Lose the coat, Fraze; this may take a while."

"What, the tea?"

I squint over at him and he is smiling, only slightly but it's there. He's wrong footed me again but this time I don't mind at all. I roll my shoulders. The tension in the room has slipped back down to the safety zone.

Just about anyway.

Maybe we can get through this, whatever it is.

I sit beside Fraser and hand him his tea. Bark tea. It smells disgusting. I haven't been able to bring myself to taste it. The smell is more than enough for me.

"So?" Fraser has twisted to face me.

"Well...oh, fuck, I didn't think it'd be this."

"Difficult? You don't have to tell me anything, Ray."

"Yeah, I do."

"Does this have anything to do with your ex-partner?"

"Yeah, everything."

"Ray, I..."

"Ben, just let me, okay? I need to do this."

He nods, a faint flush racing along his cheekbones.

"That dream I had the other night, it wasn't the first one. I've been dreaming about Rick on and off since he died. I hadn't for months, until Francis escaped.

"That's only natural, Ray, grief and guilt."

I hold up my hand, "Ben I need to get this out. Please just..."

"Okay."

He puts his finger over his mouth. My stomach twists, but in a good way, and I have to smile despite the thick feeling in my throat.

"I had to face it, Ben. I tried running away, I tried pretending it wasn't there. I thought you telling me that Rick had been cleared would be the end of it, but it wasn't."

I'm up and moving now. The quiet pain in my companion's eyes is scraping at every nerve I own.

"They just got worse. I had to face it, stop running. I couldn't look him in the eye."

I stop, knowing I'm not making any sense.

Rick's dead.

Of course I couldn't face him.

Just breathe, in and out. That's it. You can do this.

"I'm good."

Fraser is on his feet, his face all questions and concern. When I speak he stops moving towards me but he doesn't sit down.

Just spit it out Kowalski, yer killing him here.

"I went to see Rick's parents tonight. I needed to know why they blamed me, if there was any reason, if Rick had."

"Oh, Ray, I am sure that." He stops and puts the finger back over his mouth.

"I was nervous as hell, ya know. I sat in the car for ages outside the house. I almost didn't go in at all. It was okay though. They were fine. We talked about Rick, just general stuff, and then his mother said that he'd written them a letter, which they got a few days after the funeral."

I move closer to Fraser and he wraps his arm around my shoulder, and guides us in the direction of the couch. I let him; he feels good next to me despite all the layers of cloth between us.

"Jeez. Some fucker was blackmailing him about being gay. He was, ya know; he didn't play for both sides, not like me. Anyway, when I blew the Narc team outta the water and his career went down the tubes he just..."

"Cracked." Fraser's voice is soft and very close to my ear.

"Yeah." I take a long swallow of beer.

"So his parents no longer hold you responsible."

"No."

"Can I ask you something, Ray?"

"You can ask." I aim for light again and almost get there.

"Did they know about your relationship?"

"Not at the time. I think they guessed maybe. I don't know. Rick and I, we were complicated, always. We didn't make a big thing of it. We couldn't; you know that."

"Can you tell me about him?"

"I didn't think you were interested. Yeah, I can tell you."

I have to hide my surprise so I scrabble in my desk and pull out a small photo album. Fraser doesn't ask me things like this; he listens if I talk but he never asks. I flick the album open to the picture of Rick and me, the only one I have. It was taken at a party the day after we graduated from the Academy.

"That's Rick." I sit back down, not quite so close to Fraser this time.

He smiles as he looks at the picture.

"You look quite different, Ray."

"The years do damage to us all, Fraze." That's better, I sound almost normal.

I take the album from him and take another look for myself, trying to see us as Fraser might, but I can't. I've no idea what is going through his mind. It can't be anything as stupid as the stuff I thought when I saw that postcard Vecchio sent him.

I can't believe how young we look. My hair all slicked back dates me pretty easily; I haven't worn it like that since I made Detective. Rick's spiky dark hair and clean sharp-featured face makes him look barely old enough to be out of high school.

"Stella and I..."

Fraser makes a funny noise somewhere between a gasp and a splutter and I grin at him.

"It's all connected, Ben, all connected. Stella and I met when we were kids; you knew that, right? We dated on and off, mostly on in high school, until she left to go to college."

"I thought you went to college?" Fraser's all puzzled; polite, impatient and puzzled. I'll always recognize that in his voice. It was how he sounded when we first met.

"Yeah, I did but not straight away. I hated school. It was only my parents and Stella that kept me there at all. I cut a deal with my Dad that if I didn't drop out, I could have some time out before I went to college. He didn't like it but he gave in, after Mom worked on him a bit."

"So what did you do?"

"All sorts. I just drifted from job to job. I waited tables, blah, blah. You know the kinda thing. I even taught dancing for a bit."

Fraser just blinks at that one. He is actually speechless.

One for the scrapbook Kowalski, one for the scrapbook, yer not gonna see Big Red lost for words often.

"Stella and I'd a big fight about me not going to college, she'd big plans for us. I was boxing a lot, which didn't help. She hated it but it was the only thing I was serious about."

"So you weren't a couple at this point?" Fraser has moved closer to me now, his gaze fixed firmly on my face.

"Nope, she didn't talk to me for over a year. I think I saw her once right before Christmas and she just walked past me without a blink."

"I see." Fraser is frowning, his mouth tight.

"Anyway, without Stella around and not being in high school I felt free enough to experiment a bit. I guess I knew I wasn't just attracted to girls pretty early on in my teens. I didn't really want to think to hard about it though. I fooled around a little in school. Stella was always in the background and I didn't want to be any more outside the loop than I already was, so I never pushed it."

I get up and grab another beer. Fraser unwraps himself from the serge and then drifts into the kitchen to make more tea. I prop myself against the counter and watch.

"I end up at college which I hate even worse than school. Stella still isn't talking to me. I swap majors all the time, I can't settle to anything. I date quite a lot, men and women. I guess I thought Stella and I were over for good at that point."

Fraser's finished making the tea and he leans next to me.

"Go on."

It's weird talking to him like this. Weird but kinda nice at the same time, I just wish I had some idea what he was thinking. He's locked down as tight...as tight as a Mountie on guard duty.

"Stella and I get back together the second summer after we graduated high school. Mom worked her magic on that one. I'm still not sure how she managed it. I'd sort of settled down at college. Dad was...well, things were easier between us than they'd been for years."

I head back to the couch, my back is starting to ache. It's been a long day and it shows no signs of stopping yet.

"I don't see much of Stella once we get back to college. Weekends mostly; she nags me about transferring so that we can be together more but I don't wanna leave Chicago, so that nixes that."

Fraser moves from the kitchen to join me, he's looking almost as tired as I feel. His stubble is dark against his pale face, his hair is all over the place and his eyes are bloodshot. I squint at him again; yeah, definitely bloodshot. It's a good look on him but he pretty much looks good to me all the time.

"After another two terms I drop out of college. I'm getting nowhere, I hate letting my Dad down but it is just a huge waste of cash. He...well, let's just say I skip town and more or less move in with Stella. We get this crummy little studio apartment and it goes from fantastic to full-time screaming matches and back again about every ten seconds. We last six months before I'm back in Chicago."

I finish my beer but I am too tired for another one. I almost wish I had let Fraser say his piece and left mine for another day. Almost; it feels good talking to him like this now I am in the groove.

"I'd no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I worked construction, as a bartender, cab driver, anything really. I boxed a lot; I spent way too much time down the gym. The best job I had was working in this gallery, doing the installations. All modern stuff so it wasn't just hanging pictures. I liked that place."

"How did you get that job?"

Fraser is surprised and intrigued but mostly just surprised. He's trying not to show the surprise but I know him well enough by now. It's the first real reaction he's shown and the tension in my neck releases a little.

"This guy I met at college, his cousin owned the place. I needed a job and they needed someone in a hurry. The last guy quit just before a major exhibition so I was in. I only quit to go to the Academy. Stella liked that job; she hated pretty much everything else I did. Thought I was wasting my talents. But she didn't mind the gallery."

"I see. What happened with Stella?"

He's opened up a little more now, no longer sentry sitting next to me. He's leaning back against the couch, with his shirtsleeves rolled up.

"We're together on and off for the next few years. We last about three or four months at a time but we can't keep away from each other. Every couple of months we end up back together. In the breaks sometimes I'd get out of Chicago, travel until I was broke and then I head back and start again, pick up with Stella and go through the whole cycle again."

I twist round and lean against Fraser's chest. He shifts and turns until my back is finally flat against him. One of the good things about Fraser is the amount of body heat he puts out. Maybe it's all the layers of clothes he wears, maybe it's the way they make 'em up there.

"In the end I bite the bullet and apply for the Academy. Dad and Stella go ballistic when I tell 'em. Stella and I are over for good now. I'm sure of that; neither of us can take it any longer. It doesn't hurt that badly; well, not much more than usual. I'm at the Academy; I finally know hat I'm doing with my life. That's the best part about it. I meet Rick the first day and we click. Simple as that."

"Did you love him?" Fraser's voice is so soft and quite I can hardly hear him.

"Yes. No. I don't know. I was still in love with Stella at that point; I just didn't like her very much. Rick was a good friend and he was....I guess I loved him but I wasn't in love with him."

"I see."

I'm not sure that ya do Fraze. I'm not sure that I do.

"What was he like, Ray?" Fraser's prompting me through his barely concealed yawn.

"He didn't look like the sorta guy who'd become a cop but then neither did I. His family was pretty well off, his father was a judge or something. They weren't happy that he was at the Academy, so we'd that much in common. Nothing much bothered Rick, or least that's what I thought at first. He kept it all inside him. He was very laid back except when he was boxing, and then he just let it rip. He was a wise ass, very lazy. I've never met anyone who could sleep like him."

I stop, that wasn't the best thing to say. Shit, Kowalski, yer a fucking dickhead. Don't you ever learn?

Fraser's voice is very smooth, too smooth. "So did Stella know?"

"About Rick, no. She knew I dated guys as well. I think she realized what I was before I did."

"Ah."

There is a hard edge to that smooth voice, an edge that he's not aimed at me before. My stomach hits my boots. I wish I'd never started this now, but there is no way to go but on, so I do.

"I'd been a cop about a year when Stella and I got back together. Rick and I were lovers for quite a bit of that first year but we drifted apart. Different shifts, different precincts, too many risks; I'm not really sure why we stopped. Anyway, this time was the real deal for Stella and me, we got married about six months later and the rest of that story you already know. "

"Thank you." Fraser leans his head on my shoulder. "Thank you for telling me that."

"No big deal, ya know."

"It is though, isn't it?"

Fraser's voice is very serious. So serious it makes me nervous, sick to my stomach nervous.

"Yeah, I guess. So, what did ya wanna talk to me about?"

I can talk past the thick feeling in my throat and the words even make sense. I'm not sure how.

Fraser stiffens behind me, pulling away. I twist round so I can see his face. The Mountie mask is firmly in place and now I know we are in trouble, real trouble. I sit up and turn to face him properly. My hands are shaking so hard I have to sit on them.

He clears his throat. "I spoke to Inspector Thatcher today; she informed me that I have to take some leave. The RCMP have very strict rules about that sort of thing and I never seem to manage to use my holidays in time."

"So they jumped Bogart all over ya?"

There is nothing in what Fraser just said to bring that look into his eyes. Even if the Ice Queen had been a harder ass than usual it wouldn't bring that look into his eyes. I'm missing something big here. Oh fuck.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. I am going to go back to Canada, go home for a few days."

"Home, yeah right I see. Break will probably do ya good."

I'm babbling but my mind really isn't on the words coming out of my mouth. What's going on? Oh fuck, oh fuck.

"Yes, I am sure it will. I am sorry to leave you in the lurch over the poison pen case."

Fraser is standing now, putting on his uniform jacket. He shouldn't be doing that. He shouldn't be leaving. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm missing so I stick to the safe stuff.

"Don't worry about it. At this rate it'll still be going when ya get back."

"Oh, I thought we made real progress yesterday?"

"We did, but the partial print's a bust, no matches on the system and the lab guys are still working on cleaning up that image from the security tape. So we're stuck. I'm stuck, for the moment."

"Mmm. As I said, Ray, I am sorry to leave you in the lurch."

"Don't be stupid, you need the break and I know Dief is gonna love being back in the land of ice and snow."

"Yes, I believe he will."

Fraser is definitely ready to leave now and I can't think of a single thing that will make him stay. Fuck, what have I missed?

I stand up and put my hand on his arm. He smiles at me. A polite little Mountie smile with nothing showing his eyes at all.

"I have to go, Ray, things to do, and you are almost out on your feet. It is well after midnight."

I squint at my watch; he's right. It is ten past one. No wonder I feel like a car hit me.

"Yeah, yer right."

I tighten my grip on his arm and pull him close so that I can kiss him. His mouth is so warm and I could kiss him like this for the rest of the night but I can feel him pulling away already.

"I'll see you when I get back."

"Yer going tomorrow?"

The floor is moving like the deck of the Bounty and there's nothing to brace myself against.

"First thing in the morning."

He sounds calm but his military straight shoulders are even more rigid than they usually are; he's on parade. Yeah, we're in real trouble here and I've no idea at all what I can do to fix it.

"Oh, ya need a lift or anything?"

Nothing is getting under the mask, no cracks showing at all.

"I'm fine, really, Ray."

I still can't figure what I'm missing and I don't want him to leave until I do. He's already at the door.

I follow him and all I can find to say is goodbye.

"Bye, Ben."

His mouth is on my mine almost before I stop speaking. Nothing gentle about this kiss, its just heat and ruthless exploration. And then he's gone.

I lock the door behind him and lean back against it, trying not to think about how much that last kiss really felt like goodbye.