Returning - Part 1	    Returning - Part 1

 by Rathful Matt

  

 

 Disclaimer: The Main Characters in this story are not mine, although some
minor characters and 
the story itself are. I claim no copyright over the characters, only the
story. This is a series 
that will contain homosexual themes and. uh .sex, so all standard warnings
apply. 

 Author's Notes: I'd like to thank all of those who have inspired me along
the way, and beg forgiveness for those of you who I've borrowed ideas
from. This hasn't been betad, so comments and critiques welcome. Just keep
down the flames, please. 

 Story Notes: Post CoTW, so spoilers for that and references to many past
DS episodes. And no, Ray isn't dead or dying. 

 This story is a sequel to: Returning - Prologue 

 

 "RCMP, Corporal Benton Fraser, speaking..." 

 "Frase?" 

 "Francesca?" I am somewhat surprised. I have started to write to my
friends in Chicago, but I just posted off Francesca's letter this morning.
"How...are you doing? Is everything all right in Chicago?" 

 "Um no, everything isn't all right Frase, that's why I'm calling
actually." 

 I feel as if someone has dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. 

 "What's happened?" I ask. 

 "There was a shooting at the consulate yesterday. You might have heard of
it..." 

 "No..." I turn to my computer to bring up the internal RCMP online notice
board. It was there, entitled `Constable shot dead at Canadian Consulate,
Chicago'. I open up the short message and read. 

 shots from a building across the road, Chicago Police Liaison Detective
S. R. Kowalski shot twice in the chest...Constable Pearson shot through
the heart...bullet went through his body further injuring the detective...


 "Frase? Frase? You still there?" 

 "Yes." I say quietly. "Which hospital is Ray in?" 

 "Advocate Illinois Masonic. He's doing okay Frase, I just went by to get
his mail for him and your letter was there. He asked me to read it to him
and I thought you'd like to know." 

 "He's all right Francesca, you're sure?" 

 She sighs into the phone. "He took three bullets in the chest Frase.
Missed his arteries and heart but they collapsed a lung and he lost quite
a lot of blood. He's sleeping a lot but the doctor's think he'll live." 

 "Thank you Francesca." I say quietly. "I, ah, have a few things I need to
do, but I'll talk to you shortly. Thank you for informing me." 

 "Sure Frase. Um, bye." 

 "Goodbye Francesca." 

 I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves and trying to think logically.
I am going to Chicago. I know that. I simply need to make sure I can stay
there if I have to. 

 Staff Sergeant Henderson is a large, stocky man of Scottish descent. A
fair man in all regards, I am nevertheless somewhat apprehensive at asking
for more leave. I have plenty left, but I had just started to settle into
Inuvik. 

 "Sir? Could I have a word with you?" 

 Staff Sergeant Henderson looks up and places his report off to one side.
"Of course Corporal. What's on your mind?" 

 "I would like to request a temporary transfer to Chicago, Sir." 

 "Chicago?" Staff Sergeant Henderson's eyebrows rise. "Corporal, you've
barely settled in here and you wish to return?" 

 "Yes, Sir." I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "There was a shooting
at the consulate there yesterday, it's on the online bulletin board." 

 "One moment Corporal." I watch silently, as he quickly reads the notice.
"You knew Constable Pearson?" he asks, turning back to me. 

 "No, Sir. I was unofficially partnered with Detective Kowalski for almost
two years." 

 Staff Sergeant Henderson blinks, "Was that him up here with the whole
nuclear submarine thing?" 

 "Yes Sir." 

 "You do understand, Corporal, that I may not be able to get your request
processed for several days..." 

 "Then I'd like to request leave, Sir." I say, aware that I'm probably
interrupting but for some reason unable to stop, "I want to be in Chicago
tomorrow." 

 "Corporal, this is highly irregular..." 

 "He's a close friend and he's an outstanding policeman." I push on,
"He...took a bullet for me on the day we met, Sir. And I'd like to help in
the investigation." 

 "I believe the Chicago police are looking into the incident." 

 "I was hoping to resume my previous duties as Deputy Liaison Officer
there, Sir. I know the police at the 27th district and I know the city..."
and they were going to resume the liasing anyway. I add mentally 

 Staff Sergeant Henderson sighs, and I suppress a shout of triumph, "Very
well, Corporal. Fill out the required forms and get them to me as soon as
possible. Consider yourself on leave until you hear news regarding your
temporary reassignment." 

 "Right here, Sir." I say, handing him the forms. 

 If he is somewhat surprised at my preparation, he does not show it. 

 Delays in connecting flights meant that it's mid-afternoon before I check
into a motel in downtown Chicago. There will be time enough later to go
apartment hunting, but at the moment the important thing is Ray. 

 When I go to the hospital I find that Ray has been moved from Intensive
Care to a normal room, and I walk in as quietly as possible. He's
sleeping, and I am quite surprised he doesn't have any other visitors. My
stomach clenches when I see him, bandages across his chest just visible
above the blanket, his skin pallid and tubes everywhere. Connected to a
drip and a heart monitor, I don't think I've ever seen him look so old and
fragile. He looks far older than his thirty eight years, far, far older. I
blink back tears as I pull an armchair closer to his bed and sit down,
content just to watch him, seeing the rise and fall of his chest confirm
that he is, at least, alive.  

 It fucking hurts. It still fucking hurts. I suppose I got lucky. All I
have is a collapsed lung and blood loss - and not too much of that given
that the ambulance got to the consulate almost as quick as the police cars
did. The shooter vanished, of course. Frannie told me that in one of my
clearer moments - they kept me pretty much doped up to kill the pain. But
Fraser wrote to me. He said he was in Inuvik and he seemed happy. I was
half asleep when Frannie read his letter to me though, so I can't remember
all of it. I'll have to read it myself later. I'm tired, I ache and want
to sleep again, but my mouth is as dry as the Sahara so I open my eyes to
search for some water and freeze. 

 I must be starting to hallucinate. I am seeing one Benton Fraser sitting
- sleeping - in an armchair by my bed wearing jeans and a Henley over a
white T-shirt. I liked him better in the red serge, but he still has his
Stetson on, although it looks a little battered. He looks tired, and
peaceful, and I have obviously lost my marbles. That's probably a bad
thing, but at this point I'm feeling slightly better about my situation
and couldn't care less. Just being around Fraser - even a hallucination
Fraser - brings back memories of the Quest. He may deny being Supermountie
but I knew he'd never let anything happen to me while he could prevent it.
Just knowing he was near made me feel safe, made me feel protected. And
even if he isn't really here, those same feelings are washing over me now.


 I don't dare move. I want to reach out and touch him but I'm scared that
if I do my hand's going to pass straight through him. And then maybe he'll
vanish and I'll be...alone again. I lie there for ages, half reclined in
the hospital bed, staring at him before the tickle in my throat forces me
to cough. 

 "Ray!" 

 He's awake in an instant and looking at me all concerned. 

 "Are you all right?" then he flushes, "I'm sorry," he says, indicating my
bandaged chest. "Of course you're not. Are you thirsty?" 

 He grabs my water cup and fills it. I stare at him for a long time,
unable to speak. 

 "Ray?" He asks hesitantly, not quite offering me the cup, but not putting
it down either. 

 "Not here." I croak, shaking my head, "Inuvik...dreaming..." 

 He looks puzzled, and then his eyes widen as he gets it and I feel a warm
hand covering mine. 

 "No Ray, I'm really here. I flew in this morning." He holds the cup up to
my lips, and I sip a little before falling back. "Better?" 

 I nod and smile at him weakly, "Sorry." I say, "Tired." 

 "It's all right, Ray." He says, giving me a small smile, "Your body needs
rest to heal and the pain medication is no doubt making you feel quite
drowsy." 

 "Why're you here?" I mumble, trying to focus my eyes on his face. 

 I hear his neck crack, "I ah...that is Francesca called when you got
shot, and knowing the city as I do I convinced my superiors to allow me to
transfer here temporarily to continue the liaison program. I..." 

 I drop off to sleep and don't hear anything more.  

 It's about four o'clock in the afternoon and Ray has fallen asleep, and
while I am strongly tempted to stay with him, I have other duties in
Chicago as well. Ray is strong, and for all that I know of his strength
and respect it, I still find he brings out my protective tendencies. He
has saved my life innumerable times and is perfectly capable of looking
after himself, but I still feel vaguely guilty that I wasn't here to watch
his back this time. From what little I gleaned from the RCMP I know that
Ray was to be partnered officially with the Consulate liaison, and while
that isn't really rational means for guilt over his getting shot, I still
feel it. I sometimes think some of Ray's instinct rubbed off on me during
our time together, as I find myself far less constrained by logic when I
am around him. Or when thinking of him. 

 I rise from the armchair, pushing it back up against the wall and head
down towards the 27th. The Canadian consulate has no-doubt been
temporarily closed as a crime scene, so I haven't bothered paying it a
visit yet. I might not be able to get in anyway if the case was turned
over to members of the police force I do not know. 

 The bullpen is as noisy and chaotic as ever. I stop just inside the door
as a flood of memories hit me. But they were good memories. In a very
strange way I felt comfortable, as if I were returning to a cherished
place. I could hear Ray's snort in my head. 

 Pining for paperwork, crappy coffee and Dewey's jokes? Geez Frase, isn't
that just a little pathetic? 

 "Fraser!" I hear Francesca squeal with delight and looked over in time to
see her running across the room to hug me. "What are you doing here? You
were in Inuvik yesterday..." 

 "I flew in this morning." I manage, breaking from the hug. "I've been
temporarily transferred back to Chicago." 

 She gives me an unreadable look. "You'll be working with us again?" 

 "Hopefully, yes. I understand the paperwork may take some time to come
through, so at the moment I'm on leave, but I'm sure that will be dealt
with expediently." 

 "It'll be nice to have you back, Frase." She says, smiling. She looks a
little tired but I don't have any time to think about it as Lieutenant
Welsh walks out of his office at that moment. 

 "Constable?" 

 "Ah, Corporal, now actually, Sir." 

 "Really?" he raises an eyebrow, "Long overdue. Congratulations." 

 "Thank you, Sir." 

 "If you're looking for Kowalski..." 

 "I know, Sir." I say, uncharacteristically interrupting him. "I just came
from the hospital." 

 "My office, Corporal." He says, and it's just like the old times - except
Ray isn't here. He glares around the bullpen, noting the curious looks of
less than productive police officers. "Back to work." He growls, "You're
not paid to be entertained." The bullpen is immediately filled with the
noise of police at work - although perhaps slightly louder than before. 

 "I understand your concern, Fraser," the Lieutenant said after he'd
closed his office door, "But I'm afraid we haven't managed to get very far
with the case. We have nothing except the results from ballistics a few
shred of inconclusive evidence and no clear suspect." 

 I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. 

 "And unless you're here in some official capacity, I can't officially
have you working on the case either." Lieutenant Welsh adds, "I'm sorry,
Fraser." 

 "I'm transferring back temporarily." I say, finding my voice in a hurry.
"The paperwork should be coming through in a few days, Sir, if the
possibility of resuming the liaison is still there." 

 The Lieutenant almost smiles. "The possibility certainly does exist,
Corporal. It's good to have you back. If you drop by tomorrow I'll make
sure Francesca has a duplicate of the evidence file for you. I've put
Detectives Huey and Dewey on the case, although Officer Besbriss has also
been keeping abreast of the case." 

 "Elaine's back?" I say, somewhat surprised. 

 "Yes, she's working towards making detective. Given her skills it
shouldn't take too long." 

 "She's very efficient." 

 "Will you be staying at the consulate, Corporal?" 

 "Possibly." I tell the Lieutenant. "I'm here temporarily so that is an
option, but at the moment I booked into the Radisson Hotel. I can leave my
cellphone number if you need to contact me."  

 I wake to an empty room, empty and quiet bar the steady beep, beep, beep
of my heart monitor. Fraser isn't here. I snort, and then wince at the
pain. Fraser was never here. Just some fevered imagining of my drug
shrouded brain. It's hardly surprising, I suppose. I've been to the shrink
enough times to figure out the basics, what with the divorce and all. For
me Fraser's, well, safe. He looks after me, looks out for me all the time.
Or did when we were together anyway. Sure, he drives me batshit on
occasion and endangers my life in wildly dangerous ways, but there's just
something about his presence that makes me feel safe - when we're not in
immediate life threatening peril of course. I reach for my water cup and
take a gulp, surprised at how much effort the action takes. I don't even
bother asking the doctor about going home when he comes in to check on me.
I know I won't be going anywhere, except perhaps against medical advice,
and if I did my parents would kill me when they found out. And they would
find out. I'm pretty sure they'll be here in a few days, once they've
driven up from Florida. Visiting Stell and the Style-Pig. 

 No, do not want to think about that. I close my eyes and let my head fall
back onto my pillow. 

 It hurts. And not just physically. I can admit that to myself when I'm
alone. I feel wetness well up in my eyes and I turn over on one side,
wetting the pillow. The only thing that keeps me from bawling out loud is
the pain in my chest from the surgery. 

 "Ray? Are you all right?" 

 "Frase?" 

 He's around the other side of the bed in a flash, a hand on my shoulder
and concern written all over his face. 

 "You're here." I say - yeah Kowalski, go for the obvious. 

 His mouth quirks in one corner, almost as if to say `didn't we just have
this conversation?', but all he says is, "Yes, Ray, I'm here." 

 "Didja get him?" 

 He frowns, "Get who, Ray?" 

 "The guy who shot me, and...and...oh shit, the other Mountie...did he..."


 "Constable Pearson didn't make it, Ray." 

 "God, Frase, I'm sorry." 

 He pulls the blanket up around my shoulders. "It's not your fault, Ray.
By all accounts you were shot twice before he pulled you into the
consulate, so you can hardly be blamed for his death." 

 "But that means I was the target, me, not him." 

 Eyebrow rub, "Perhaps so, Ray, but he was just doing his job. You did the
same for me that first day." 

 "I was wearing a vest, he wasn't." 

 "And what if he'd got shot in the head?" Fraser snaps, then softens, "I'm
sorry, Ray. I shouldn't yell at you, but you scared me." He clutches my
shoulder hard, "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you alive." 

 "How'd you get here so fast anyway?" I say, grinning at him like a doof.
"I just got your letter yesterday." I frown "Or was two days ago?" 

 "You likely received it two days ago, but I believe Francesca read it to
you yesterday. She called me yesterday afternoon, no doubt after getting
my telephone number from the letter." 

 "And you just dropped your life in Canada and came down here? Why?" 

 "Well, as a matter of principle the RCMP can hardly let Constable
Pearson's demise go unpunished and I'd hate to see the liaison office
closed down because of the incident. Given that I am familiar with the
city I convinced my superiors to let me return temporarily to handle the,
ah, crisis as it were." 

 "Oh," I say, feeling vaguely disappointed. 

 "And I wanted to be sure you were all right." Fraser says softly. "I'm so
sorry, Ray." 

 I can't help teasing him a little. "For wanting to make sure I was all
right?" 

 "No!" Fraser exclaims, shocked, "I...I feel I should have been there." He
looks away, seemingly unable to meet my eyes. 

 Oh shit. "Fraser...Frase, look at me. Look at me." 

 He doesn't at first, so I wait, and sure enough, he eventually meets my
gaze. "Fraser, you could've stayed in Canada, right? Back in the RCMP's
good books? Promotion and all?" 

 Fraser nods mutely. 

 "Then why the fuck do you think you should have been stuck in the
Consulate here pushing pencils?" 

 "I know that, Ray." Fraser says placatingly, not even commenting on my
language "I never said it was logical, I just..." 

 "Not logical?" I feel my lips twitch into a smile, "What is the world
coming to? Benton Fraser going on instinct?" 

 Fraser laughs at that, and then sobers abruptly. "You should have had
back up." He says finally. 

 I sigh, exasperated "Geez Frase, it was a trip to the fricking Consulate,
not one hanging off an aeroplane wing." 

 "But you didn't have a partner." 

 "Which was one of the reasons I was to be liaison." I say. "Not your
fault." 

 "Ray, it's been three months." He says, the line between his eyebrows
appearing. "I find it very difficult to believe that Lieutenant Welsh
couldn't find you a partner for three months." 

 "I had two." I mutter. 

 "I'm sorry?" 

 "I said I had two - two partners. It just didn't work out you know." 

 "Ah." He says, and then adds politely. "I'm sorry about that, Ray." 

 "We just didn't work well together." I grin at him, "You spoilt me for
other partners, Frase. Neither of them licked electrical sockets." 

 I try to make light of it but he looks really unhappy at that. "So it is
my fault then." 

 I hate it when he gets on the whole guilt thing. "No Frase, it's not your
fault that you're damn good at everything. It's not your fault that I
decided to take Vecchio's undercover stint." 

 Fraser smiles weakly at me. "I know that, Ray." He says, "I do, but..."
he flushes, "on some level I still consider us partners, Ray." He says,
"And I wish..." he looks away and takes a shuddering breath. 

 "What?" 

 "I wish I'd been here." 

 "Well I don't." it just slips out, sounding more harsh than I intended
and he looks at me, shock and hurt in his eyes. 

 "I, Fraser, am pretty damn glad you weren't here." I say. "And maybe..."
I add more softly, "maybe it's uncharitable of me but I'm damn glad it
wasn't you playing soldier outside the consulate that day. You know what
flashed across my mind when you told me Constable whatsisname didn't
survive?" 

 "Pearson." He corrects me quietly. 

 "Yeah Pearson, right, you know what I thought?" 

 "No." he barely whispers. 

 "I thought that it could've been you if you hadn't gone back. It could've
been you." And then I'm crying again, and it hurts, but it's stupid as it
wasn't him and he's right there beside the bed rubbing my shoulders and
telling me he's here, he's safe and he's not going anywhere. 

 He's still there when I wake up again - I must've cried myself to sleep -
and he stays until visiting hours are over and he gets kicked out. Huey
and Dewey drop by while he's here and they tell us about the case, which
has gone cold. None of us are happy about it, but Huey says all that they
have is the shotgun bullets, a footprint and a few distant witness
sightings. They think they're looking for a tall white male with red hair
but that's all they know. Frannie and Elaine are apparently going through
the files to see if I've pissed off anyone by that description, but I
can't think of anyone offhand. I'm hoping one of my snitches might come
through with the info later, but at the moment, no luck. Fraser leaves
shortly after they do, but he promises he'll come back tomorrow. I wish he
didn't have to go. Knowing that the man who shot me is still at large in
Chicago doesn't really make me feel very safe at all, hospital or no.  

 "Where are you staying, Frase?" He asks me when I return the next day. 

 "I'm booked into The Raddison Hotel at the moment." I reply immediately. 

 "How long are you here for?" 

 "I don't know, Ray." I say looking up. "At least until the case is
closed, maybe slightly longer after that...it's a temporary assignment,
Ray." 

 "What's that mean time-wise?" 

 I sigh, not really wanting to explain it at the moment, but he deserves
to know. "I'm staying as long as the RCMP will let me, Ray." I say
finally, "It could be a few months, maybe more, maybe less." 

 "Depends on what happens up in Nunavik, huh?" 

 "Inuvik." I correct automatically and he smiles. I'm certain he
mispronounced it deliberately but I don't care. If he can tease me, he's
getting better. "Yes, it does depend on what happens in Inuvik, but it's a
relatively quiet posting." 

 "I know." Ray says, smiling at me, "Fishing over the limit, litterbugs,
hunting without a licence..." we both laugh, but then he breaks into a
coughing fit. 

 "So you'll be staying at the Raddison indefinitely while you're here?" he
asks me eventually. 

 I tug at my collar, "I was planning on looking for an apartment,
actually." I tell him, "I don't really think I could stay at the
consulate, and while the RCMP is paying for my lodging, a hotel seems
rather...opulent." 

 He snorts at that. "I wouldn't call the Raddison opulent, Fraser. But
then I suppose I do have to lock my door when I leave my apartment, unlike
some people in this room." 

 I laugh at that, and he grins. "It seems a bit silly though, Frase, for
you to rent a place if the RCMP might yank you out at any time." 

 "Well, yes, there is that." I say, "Which is of course why I was
considering renting the place myself. I could hardly ask the RCMP to pay
for the rental if I wasn't in Chicago." 

 He gives me an odd smile, "You're a freak, you know that?" 

 "I have been so informed on numerous occasions." 

 "Seriously, Frase, you're welcome to crash at my place if you like." He
tells me, "It's still a mess, but it's not like it's lived in much at the
moment." 

 "Ray, I wouldn't want to intrude, and besides, I'm sure you'll be up and
about in no time. You may require a period of observation, but a collapsed
lung is hardly going to keep you hospitalised for months." 

 "Hey, mi casa et su casa, buddy." He tells me, "And you can take the
couch if it makes you feel better. I got the old one back when Stella sold
her house here - it folds out into a twin." 

 "Thank you, Ray." I say, touched, "This is very generous of you." 

 "Least I could do, Frase. You kept me alive up there in Freezerland, you
know." 

 "You survived extremely well, Ray. You were a quick learner." 

 "I had a good teacher." He shoots back at me, "And I'd already tried
freezing my ass off on the mountain, or didja forget that?" 

 I shake my head, "That doesn't count, Ray, you were hardly prepared that
time." 

 He laughs suddenly, "Damn, I love you, Fraser." 

 "And I you Ray." 

 He stills as emotions flicker rapidly across his face, surprise, shock,
fear, confusion, and I'm just about to ask him whether or not he means
that symbolically when he turns away from me. He fumbles with the drawer
of his bedside table and turns back with his bunch of keys, his face
impassive. 

 "Here." He says, "Fat lot of good they're doing me anyway. I'm sure my
landlady would let you in, but it'll be easier if you have the keys." 

 "Thank you, Ray." I say again. `I...thank you."  

 It takes every scrap of willpower I have left not to freak out. I didn't
mean to say it, I really didn't. It just slipped out. And this time I
meant it. It's crazy but as soon as it left my lips I realised that I
really did mean it. I, Stanley Raymond Kowalski am in love with Benton
Robert Fraser. I'm not sure at the moment if the physical element is there
(right now I couldn't get it up to save my life), but everything else -
the way I feel when he's around, the way I feel when he's not... Suddenly
I'm very glad I've become so damn good at undercover work over the last
few years. I'm sure he suspects something's up, but I can fake it well
enough that he'll think he's just imagining things, and Fraser's too
polite to push it. Now I just have to decide how I feel about it and what
the heck I'm going to do. 

 We talk a bit about the case now that Fraser's got a copy of the file,
but there really isn't much to go on. I've told him all I know, and
forensics hasn't found anything conclusive - or even anything that hints
at a suspect. Frannie drops in after work to let me know that the old
suspect search came up with zippo, although Fraser then reminds us all
that it needn't be a perp from an old case at all, but merely one of the
perp's friends looking to pay me back. I then have to talk Frannie out of
going and starting the search immediately. 

 "Not that I don't appreciate it, but needle in a haystack, Frannie." I
tell her. "And we wouldn't have everyone on record anyway. You just got
off work, relax a bit. The files will still be there tomorrow." 

 It's nice to know she cares though. Frannie's good people.  

 "Where's Dief?" I ask after Frannie leaves. 

 "He's in quarantine." Fraser says softly, "He insisted on coming with me
but you know how customs are." 

 Ray grins, "Especially when it comes to recalcitrant deaf wolves." 

 "Yes." Fraser rubs at his eyebrow, "And the suddenness of our departure
didn't help things either." 

 "When's he get out?" 

 "Friday." 

 "I don't think I'll be out by then." I sigh. I asked about getting out
today, but the doctor wanted to keep me under observation at least until
the end of the week. "You'll probably have to go get him by yourself. Wish
I could be there." I say rather wistfully. 

 "He's missed you too, Ray." 

 And what about you? Did you miss me? I want to ask, but I don't, "My
parents are probably going to be here on Friday anyhow." I say instead. 

 He frowns, "I was meaning to ask you why they weren't here earlier." 

 I shrug, "They were visiting Stella and...um...Vecchio in Florida and
have to drive back up." 

 "Stella and Ray Vecchio?" 

 I thought he already knew, "Didn't they tell you? They eloped shortly
after we went off after Franklin and took over a bowling alley." 

 "A bowling alley?" Fraser says, rubbing an eyebrow. "No, I didn't know." 

 "Well, I didn't find out until I asked Frannie why Vecchio wasn't around
the station, and then Stella called about the furniture, but in any case
my parents went down to visit them last week and well..." I trail off. 

 "Ah." Fraser says. 

 It still drives me batshit, but funnily enough, I've missed that. "What's
that supposed to mean?" I ask. 

 "Just that I understand. I'm sorry, Ray." 

 "Fraser!" if I were stronger I'd probably seriously consider strangling
him. "It's not your fault that my parents aren't here." 

 Fraser blinked, "I didn't mean to imply it was. I merely meant that I
wish they had been able to visit a little earlier." 

 That immediately takes the wind out of my sails, "Yeah." I muttered, "It
gets kind of lonely." 

 "I know." 

 I look at him, and remember that he still has that bullet in his back
from when the Style Pig shot him. Months of therapy and no family to come
visit. Lonely, yeah, Fraser knew that. 

 "And ya know what makes it worse?" I say, and not waiting for him to
answer I push on, "If it wasn't for the fact that I need someone else to
make sure I don't cough up my fucking spleen I could be at home already."
Well, Doctor Chan had said he'd consider letting me out if there'd been
someone to look after me. 

 This time Fraser does frown at me slightly, "Ray, language." He says,
"Are you saying you could go home if you had someone there to watch you?" 

 "Yeah." I said, taking a gulp of water, "Only I don't so I have to stay
here." 

 "But you do." Fraser said, "I'll be there." 

 "But you're..." I look at him in surprise. "You're right." I grin but
then pull myself up short, "Nah, you need to work. I couldn't ask you to
look after me on top of everything." 

 "That doesn't matter Ray. I'm offering." Fraser says, "Besides." He adds,
"It can't be harder than trying to force feed you pemmican and oatmeal." 

 I laugh at that, "No, I don't suppose it will be, Fraser." 

 And it's settled. When doctor Chan comes around that evening I tell him I
want out. He's not happy, but when I tell him I'll check myself out AMA if
I have to he relents and reels of a list of instructions to me and Fraser
- the coughing thing to keep my lungs clear and what to do if my lung
collapses again. He also gives me some antibiotics 'just in case' an
infection develops, although he says they're probably not necessary. Which
is good, they make you feel like shit afterwards. He does tell me not to
drive back to the apartment myself, though, and in any case, Fraser tells
me the Goat's back at the 27th. But Fraser has to get his stuff anyway, so
he takes the keys and goes to check out of the Raddison, and then he'll be
back for me. He listens to me rant at him about speed and his tendency to
grind the gears with a slight smile on his face, and then when I pause to
draw breath he says "Of course, Ray." and heads out the door, ignoring my
swearing. 

 Frase takes a bit longer than I expected to get back - even given his
slow driving - but when he comes in with one of my duffel bags I realise
he stopped off at my apartment to get me some clothes. I've been stuck in
a hospital gown for what feels like fucking ages, and in my rush to get
home I kinda forgot that I didn't have anything here to change into, since
Frannie took my clothes back with her saying she'd wash `em. Well, apart
from the shirt and jacket which are now evidence. Frase didn't forget
though, and being Frase went and fixed the problem without saying
anything. Thoughtful, yeah, that's Benton Fraser. Benton. Ben. I wish. 

 "Thanks Frase." I say, when he puts the duffel down, "I kinda forgot." 

 "I realised that, Ray." Fraser grins at me, "And although you look quite
fetching in a hospital gown, I didn't think you'd appreciate showing
yourself off to the general public in it." 

 It's back to the banter we used to have, only now I'm thinking - does he
mean that the way I think he did? The way I hope he did? Does he like me
too? Heh - stupid question Kowalski, he's here ain't he? The question is
does he more than like me too. 

 "Ray?" Slightly worried tone. 

 I shake myself. "Sorry, Frase, spaced out a bit there." I grin, trying to
conjure up a semblance of normalcy. "You saying you find me attractive?" 

 Fraser cocks his head at me. "Didn't we already have this conversation?" 

 "That was over two years ago Frase. Things can change in two years." Like
my sexual orientation apparently, I realise. 

 "I...ah...suppose that's true. Things rarely stay the same, however much
we might like them too." 

 "Was that an answer?" I say, my heart pounding. 

 "To what, Ray?" 

 I try to keep my voice light, in spite of everything, "Do you find me
attractive?"  

 It sounds like he could just be teasing me, but there's something else in
his voice, a slight edge that has never been there before. I tense, words
trapping themselves in my throat. It feels like a test, and if it is I
don't want to fail it. I don't want to lose Ray again. But he's sitting up
in the hospital bed, waiting for my answer, and as it's a direct question
so evasion is impossible. 

 "Very much so, yes." 

 The words slip out of my mouth surprisingly easily. Ray looks... hot,
kissable, beautiful, like he's been shot and just had surgery ...slightly
relieved but at the same time uncertain. He doesn't hate me at least. Ray
is...Ray is a friend, and a detective and utterly unattainable. He knows
far too much about me as it is already. Anything more and he'll probably
run screaming in the opposite direction, as he would say. Sometimes I
curse my tongue. Human sexuality, a continuum. Why don't I just get a sign
saying 'bisexual' and hang it around my neck or something? And Ray... 

 I reach for his duffel bag and fumble around inside for his clothing,
deliberately not meeting his gaze. There are some things he cannot know
about me, things I dare not tell him. 

 "Here. I brought you some sweatpants." I say, handing them over with a
T-shirt and jumper. 

 "Thanks Frase." 

 Pause. 

 "I'll just...um...wait outside then." 

 "You do that." 

 "Call me if...if you need anything." I say rather awkwardly and leave the
room, shutting the door behind me.  

 The first thing I notice about Ray's apartment is how...empty it looks.
It's not exactly clean and what remains is still in the state of chaos I
have come to associate with Ray, but a good half - or maybe more - of what
I remember being here is gone. 

 "What happened?" I ask Ray, who is busy toeing off his sneakers. 

 "To what?" he asks looking up and then following my gaze into the
apartment. "Oh, well, I did some housecleaning." 

 "Ray, it looks like you disposed of a good half of your belongings." 

 He shrugs, moving into the kitchen. "Something like that, you want a
drink?" 

 "Just some water, thank you." I say as I head over to the couch - the new
couch, which is slightly longer and charcoal black. 

 "Why?" I ask him when he joins me with my water and a cup of coffee. 

 He shrugs again. "Dunno really, Frase. I came back from Canada, took one
look around this place and felt...stifled. Y'know... crowded,
caustro...cautic...er..." 

 "Claustrophobic?" 

 "Yeah that's the one. I think I kinda got used to all that open space you
have up there." 

 "Ah." 

 "Exactly." He says, grinning at me, "So I come back and start going
through all my junk - and it was definitely junk, Frase - and end up
throwing most of it out. And then when Stell gave me half of the stuff she
wasn't keeping when she married Vecchio I did it again and well..." he
sweeps his hand around the apartment. "I like it. Feels sorta like I can
breathe now, y'know?" 

 "I...of course." 

 He looks at me, "You don't, do you." 

 He knows me too well. "Well...no, Ray. You see..." I pause, trying to
work out how to phrase it correctly. "I've always associated you with
a...a feeling of intense energy, this very busy, vibrant force if you will
and your apartment, which looked so..." 

 "Cluttered, messy, disastrous?" 

 "...lived in," I continue, over his chuckle, "seemed to be a physical
extension of you." 

 "You saying my apartment - and me - are less alive now?" 

 He's teasing me, and I know it, but I play along, "Not at all Ray." I
say, trying not to smile. "It's still very vibrant, just more orderly and
well yes, less cluttered." 

 He drains his coffee and places the mug on the coffee table, his
mercurial mood suddenly shifted to serious. "Well, maybe I'm less
cluttered too, Frase." Something in his voice makes me look at him
sharply, "Are you all right, Ray?" 

 "I'm fine, Fraser." He tells me, "Really." he adds at my questioning
look, "I just feel like I know myself better now. I know what I want.
Kinda the way you did." 

 "I'm sorry?" 

 "When you were here, Frase. You knew what you wanted, you know, I'm not
talking about truth, justice and the Canadian way or anything but... You
were always so calm, centred even. I'm not saying this well at all. You
knew where home was, okay?" 

 "Canada." I say, although I half wonder if that's still true. 

 "Exactly, Frase. You knew what you wanted and you went and got it." I
didn't. I knew what I wanted and I ran as far away from it as I could
because I knew I'd never get it. But I can't tell him that. "Well then, I
suppose all you have to do now is go and get what you want." 

 He looks at me then, his eyes unfathomable. "I can't Frase." 

 "Why not?" 

 "Because what I want is beyond my reach." He says very calmly. 

 So he apparently isn't over Stella yet. "I'm sorry to hear that Ray." I
say. 

 He laughs suddenly, humourlessly, "Yeah, me too." He says, getting up and
taking his mug and my glass into the kitchen. "You know, I've got some
space in my wardrobe after my bout of cleaning - you can hang your stuff
up if you want." 

 "Thank you kindly, Ray. But it'll only be a week or so before I find a
place to rent." 

 "I thought we discussed this Fraser." He says, walking back into the
living area. "If you don't know how long you're going to be here, there's
no real point in renting a place and you're more than welcome to crash
here." 

 "Ray that could be months." I point out. 

 "So?" 

 "I wouldn't want to intrude." 

 He snorts, "Like I wasn't intruding on you up in Canada for a month or
six?" 

 "That's entirely different Ray." 

 "Really, how?" 

 "Well, you weren't at my cabin for the whole six months to start with,
and I...I enjoyed your company while you were there, Ray." 

 He cocks his head and sits in the armchair, throwing a leg carelessly
over the one armrest. "First off, Fraser." He says, throwing my words back
at me, "I was imposing. You virtually had to babysit me for the first
month or so given that I didn't know jack about surviving in all that
snow. And secondly, I enjoy your company too buddy, and if we can live
through six months of each other in Canada without killing each other, I
don't see how it's going to be such a big deal here." 

 "I..." don't know how to answer that, "...thank you Ray." 

 "You're welcome, Fraser. Now get your butt off the couch so we can make
it into a bed for ya." 

 I get up and move the coffee table away to give the fold out some room.
"You really shouldn't exert yourself with your injury, Ray." I tell him as
he pulls the cushions off the couch. 

 "I am not a cripple, Fraser." 

 "No, but you still should let the muscles heal." I say, moving to pull
out the bed myself. "Pushing your limits now could reopen the wounds or
exacerbate the injury, and you did just get released from hospital today."


 "Yes, Mom." Ray says, thankfully not arguing the point. Instead he goes
and fetches some sheets from the linen closet. 

 "Here you go, Frase. You can practice your hospital corners." He says
grinning, "I'll just grab you a pillow." 

 "Ah, thank you kindly." I say, and smile slightly at his answering grin.
He comes back shortly with a pillow and a comforter and hands them to me.
"The bottom two drawers and the left side of the wardrobe are empty,
Frase, you can stick your clothes in there and there is some space in the
closet." He says, "I'm going to shower the hospital stink off me, so make
yourself at home."  

 I lock the bathroom door and strip quickly, turning on the water in the
shower and stepping in. It feels good to be clean again, even hospital
showers seem to leave me feeling slightly icky. Must be all those
chemicals. So I take my time scrubbing myself down with my shower gel and
wash my hair out. And okay, it's kind of good to be able to escape from
Fraser for a while. Not that I'd want to normally, but just having him
near me now makes me go all hot. I need some of that iron self control he
has - but hey, this is me, Ray Kowalski, control? Fergeddaboudit. But I
need to, I have to otherwise... 

 It wouldn't work, I think as I turn my face into the warm spray of water.
Fraser's straight as an arrow. After all, there was that Metcalf bitch and
then the bounty hunter and heck even Maggie until they realised they were
related. I don't think Lady shoes counts, but he sure could've fooled me -
oh wait, he did. And hey, even if by some weird twist of fate Fraser
wasn't just going all textbooky on me that day when we were looking at the
gay parade and all that, why the hell would he be interested in a skinny
Polack like me? I mean he's pretty much perfect and he gets women throwing
themselves at him all the time - and I'm sure he'd get the men too if they
thought they had a chance. I haven't seen him in the altogether but hey -
that day when he practically did a striptease getting my files out of his
pants...oh shit. 

 I turn off the hot water and wait for my body to calm down. And then it
hits me. Maybe I've been staring at his ass for a hell of a lot longer
than I think I have. Maybe I subconsciously screwed things up with Luanne
because I wanted Fraser. Maybe I got more jealous than worried over Lady
Shoes. Maybe I didn't mean symbolically when I blurted it out the last
time. Maybe Maggie's such a female Fraser that I wanted her coz I sure as
hell couldn't get him. Maybe I should stop thinking about this. Maybe I
should really stop thinking about this. 

 Cold water. Good. 

 After I've cooled down a bit I turn off the water and step out of the
shower, snagging my towel off the rack to dry myself. I can hear Fraser in
my bedroom putting away his clothing. Fraser, in my bedroom...
stopitstopitstopit. 

 "Ray?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Are you quite all right in there?" 

 "I'm fine, Frase." I half snap, but as much at myself as at him. 

 "I didn't mean to startle you Ray, he says apologetically through the
door. "But you were silent there for quite some time and I was worried
that you might have collapsed." 

 "I'm fine, Fraser. Just a bit tired. Spacin' out you know?" 

 "Ah." I can picture his thumb scratching his eyebrow. "I'm afraid I'll
have to wake you in a few hours then to keep your lungs clear." 

 I feel warm all over. He's so good to me. I should be grateful of that, I
know. Coz that's all I can have. "Thanks Fraser." I say through the door
as I finish drying myself off. 

 Thursday passes somewhat uneventfully - except of course that Fraser
straightens up my already neat (to me) apartment and gets fresh groceries.
I wake up to the smell of coffee and pancakes on Friday morning and I'm
ravenous. There's just something about fresh pancakes - and not box mix -
that just tastes great. Fraser makes them properly with maple syrup (from
Canada of course) and butter. He doesn't believe in margarine. I don't
complain. I had ribbed him about it in the past, but then Frannie
forwarded this really weird email about how bad margarine was for you -
something about it being one molecule away from plastic. I don't know if
it's true but still, I'll take butter thanks. Besides, given my diet (or
as Fraser might put it, lack of diet) eating a bit of butter now and then
can't possibly be any worse than my deep fried lunches.  

 "Fraser." He says, and I look up from the file. 

 "Yes?" 

 "Not that I don't appreciate the effort you're putting into the case, but
it's cold. You said it yourself, there's not much to go on. Come on, relax
a bit." 

 "I am quite relaxed, Ray." 

 "Sure you are Frase, that's why you're sitting like you've got a stick up
your...uh..." 

 "Spine, Ray?" I grin at him. I've missed this, the camaraderie and good
natured teasing. 

 "Spine. That'll do. Not exactly what I was going to say, but why not,
spine." His eyes narrow. "You're changing the subject." 

 "I was not as a matter of fact, but if you prefer. Did you know that
they've started mining for diamonds in Canada now?" 

 "Fraser." 

 I sigh, "Ray, I can't explain it, but something about the shooting
bothers me." 

 "Apart from the fact that I got shot you mean?" 

 "Yes." I say, "I get the feeling that something isn't quite what it
seems, that somehow I'm missing something very important." 

 "Yeah, you are - the perp. We don't have him." 

 "Ray, that isn't what I meant." 

 "Sorry." 

 "Thank you, Ray." 

 After a bit, Ray cocked his head at me, "Well?" 

 "Well what?" 

 "What is it that you think you're missing?" 

 "I don't know Ray." I say putting the file down on the coffee table.
"It's not much more than a hunch. I just get the feeling that I'm looking
in the wrong direction and I know the reason for that is staring at me in
the evidence but I just don't know what it is." 

 Ray was smiling at me, a huge, face splitting smile that made his face
light up. "Something's hinky?" 

 "Well, that isn't quite the way I'd phrase it but the sentiment is apt." 

 "Hinky. Huh. I really have corrupted you haven't I?" 

 "I beg your pardon?" 

 "You're going on hunches now Frase." He says, and punches me lightly in
the arm. "That's my job, Mr. Instinct, remember." 

 I smile at that. "Yes." 

 "When's Dief get out?" 

 "About three o'clock." 

 He frowns at that before heading into his bedroom. When he comes back he
passes me the keys to the GTO. "Here." He says. "Tell the furball I'm
sorry I'm not there, but my parents said they'd show up around three." 

 "This is very generous of you, Ray." I start. "But you don't..." 

 "Know that, Frase. I want to, okay?" 

 "Of course, Ray. Thank you." 

 It takes me some time to drive out to the airport - Ray no doubt would
chide me for my slow driving. I'm not entirely certain why I do that. I
can drive faster, and while I will not break the speed limits unless there
is an extremely pressing reason to do so, I have to admit that my driving
in Chicago is much slower than that. I think it has something to do with
the fact that this is Ray's car. Or maybe it's more than Ray's Car. The
GTO to me is no more than a car - a very good car, but essentially a means
of conveyance. For Ray it is something greater. I'm not quite sure what.
It might be a work of art, a thing of beauty, a statement of care and
craftsmanship skill required to keep it running smoothly. Perhaps it's a
visible symbol of his relationship with his father, who he is otherwise
not very close to despite the fact that I can see them both desperately
trying to reconnect with each other. The GTO is then a communication
device and a symbol of how their relationship should work perhaps.
Perhaps... 

 Diefenbaker is quite excited to see me and glad he tells me to get out of
the airport which smells funny. Chemicals I tell him as I walk him out
towards the GTO. He nudges my hand and whines when we come to the car. 

 "No, Ray isn't here, he's at his apartment, and yes we are staying with
him for the moment." 

 Dief barks happily as I let him into the back. 

 "No I haven't got any donuts, and I hope he doesn't either. You know
they're not good for you."  

 There's a knock at my door and I can tell it's not Fraser. Friday, huh,
yeah, parents. I open the door and mom's all over me with hugs, not a few
tears and a lot of "I'm so sorry I wasn't here earlier" sentences. And
food of course. Mom always brings food. Dad just gives me a weird manly
hug and tells me he's glad I'm alive. 

 "Yeah, Dad, me too." 

 "I don't mean to coddle, Stanley." My mom says, "But isn't it a bit early
for you to be out of hospital by yourself?" 

 "Barbara, he's quite grown." 

 "Oh, I know that Damian, but I worry. Mothers always worry." 

 It's nice to know they care after those years of uncertainty. "I'm fine,
Mom." I say, "I probably shouldn't be without observation, but Frase is
here most of the time anyway. He just had to go get Dief from the
airport." 

 "Benton's here? I thought he'd moved back to Canada." 

 "He did, but he's been temporarily transferred back, what with the
shooting and all." 

 "Good." My dad grunts, "I didn't start talking to you again after ten
years to attend a funeral." 

 I laugh at that. "Me neither, Dad." 

 Conversations between my Dad and me are still rather forced, unless they
involve the GTO, but Mom is always there to smooth out the rough edges. 

 "Anyway, Stanley, I've made you some bigos and we dropped in on Mrs.
Vecchio and she's sent over some pasta and lasagne. There's also chicken
soup in this pot which you can just reheat." 

 I'd sort of guessed it'd be a food care package. 

 Mom hugs me fiercely. "You have to take care of yourself, Stanley. I
worry about you." 

 "I'm fine, Mom." I say, not really wanting to let my Dad get into one of
his `I told you so' moods. "I just need to rest and I'll be getting plenty
of that. Welsh's practically grounded me until further notice anyway." I
try to laugh, but this time get a coughing fit. 

 "You don't sound fine to me, Stanley, why aren't you in hospital?" 

 "Because I hate hospitals, Mom." I say, "And since Fraser'll be here
anyway, if anything happens he can help me deal with it. You don't have to
worry Mom." 

 "How can I not?" she sniffed. "I know you can take care of yourself,
Stanley, I know that. But you'll always be my little baby." 

 There's not much a man can say to that. "Coffee?" I ask them, to cover my
embarrassment. 

 "I wouldn't mind one, Raymond, but you should be resting and we shouldn't
be keeping you up." 

 "Oh, Damian, I can get the coffee and we should at least stay until his
little friend Benton gets back in case something happens." Mom say as she
disappears into the kitchen. 

 Dad rolled his eyes at me as she left, but he smiles fondly after her.
"Some things never change." He says to me, sitting down in the old
armchair. 

 "No they don't." 

 "Have they caught him yet?" 

 I sigh. "It's gone cold, Dad. No confirmed ID, no fingerprints, no
weapon..." 

 "So he's still out there." 

 "Yeah." I say, "Dad about all we know is that he used a twelve gauge
shotgun has red hair and wears size twelve sneakers - which Fraser tells
me are Reeboks. To be honest with you I don't think they're going to catch
him unless he tries again. Thankfully, Fraser came back with Dief just
then and cut that particular conversation short. 

 Dief, of course, is overjoyed to see me, and is all over me before Fraser
can warn him off. After a face wash of wolf spit I manage to grab his
head. "Nice to see you too, mutt, so lay off the licking already." Talking
to a wolf - I was desperate, ok? So Fraser's saying `hi' to my parents and
giving them a more complete medical rundown of exactly what's wrong with
me and how the case is going, and I escape into the kitchen to get Dief
some water. I'm yawning when I get back and slump down into the couch. 

 "Are you going into work today, Benton?" 

 "No ma'am." Fraser's saying, "The paperwork is just going through at the
moment, so I should be able to start on Monday, as long as Ray's condition
remains stable." Mom nods, "I suppose we'd best be going to let Stanley
get some rest." She comes over to give me a hug and kisses my cheek. "Now
you get well soon and don't overexert yourself." 

 "I will Mom." I say, "Thanks for coming over." 

 I get another motherly kiss for that and a hug from dad. And then they're
gone. 

 I sink back into the couch with a sigh, and feel it dip a little as
Fraser sits on the other side. "Tired, Ray?" 

 A grin at him, half closing my eyes. "Kinda." I say. "I love them, Frase,
but you know... sometimes it gets a bit stifling, and they have other
things to do than coddle me when I don't need it." 

 "Ah." 

 I yawn, "I think I'll take a nap." 

 "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable in your bed, Ray?" 

 I look at him, after the hospital still uncertain. But he's got the
Mountie mask on again, and I can't see through it at the moment.
"Probably." I say. "What're you going to do?" 

 "I was planning on taking Dief for a run, actually." Fraser says rubbing
an eyebrow, "If you think you'll be all right that is. He needs to stretch
his legs." 

 "And the exercise won't hurt him either." I say as I stand up, grinning
at Dief's affronted whine. 

 Fraser frowns, obviously remembering how I fed him a donut earlier - my
dad brought some over - "True enough." 

 "Come on, Frase, it's the first time I've seen him in months." 

 "It is an action indicative of a long term bad habit, Ray." Fraser says
primly, "On both your parts." 

 I grin at him and drag myself into the bedroom as he shoos Dief out the
door.  

 I'm falling, face down, gunshots ringing in my ears. I'm hit, it hurts,
the world is fading, I can feel his weight upon me as the floor comes
rushing up and... 

 Water. 

 The icy shock of the water pulls me back into myself, and I flail wildly
but to no avail. I still can't swim well. My clothes drag me down, a heavy
weight pulling on me. I can't breathe. I can't breathe! I CAN'T BREATHE!!
My vision dims, and I feel his hands on my shoulders before I black out. 

 Thud. 

 Thud. 

 Thud. Thump. Cough. 

 I am dimly aware of being cold, of a pressure between my shoulder blades
and water trickling out of my mouth. I'm turned over, wrapped in something
- I think it's a blanket, but my clothes are still cold. I know all this,
but I can't seem to do anything. I can't see anything. I think I might be
blind, but it's just my eyes I realise. They're shut. And I can't get them
to open. I can't move my hands or feet. I can't move. My chest hurts. I
panic, but I can't do anything. I feel his lips on mine. The panic fades. 

 His lips are soft, if chapped from the cold, just as I thought they'd be.
I can feel the softness of his beard, grown out in part for practical face
warming purposes, but also in part because neither of us could be bothered
shaving. He breathes out into me. Oh, buddy breathing, I remember this.
He's thumping on my chest again, and he breathes into me, thump, breathe,
thump, breathe, thump... breathe...breathe. I can breathe. I cough and
splutter and he helps me cough up the remaining water in my lungs and then
hugs me fiercely, holding me against him and rocking me, stroking my hair.


 "I'm all right, Frase." I say weakly. 

 "I nearly lost you." He says, a tear trickling down his cheek, "I nearly
lost you." 

 "Well, you didn't." 

 He kisses my forehead, "I know." 

 I shiver, partially at the cold of my clothing, but also at the
electricity that shoots through me from his kiss. 

 He stops instantly, "Let's get you out of these wet things." He says. 

 I'm in the tent all of a sudden and the arctic stove is burning,
providing some warmth. He strips me of my water logged clothing and the
chill is shocking, but he rubs me down with my blanket, and then switches
it for his one so I'm dryer. Leaving me for a minute he zips our sleeping
bags together. 

 "What're you doing Frase?" I ask him through chattering teeth. 

 "Warming you up." He says seriously. "We're a bit too far out from
civilisation and we can't risk hypothermia." 

 I'm already loving the 'we'. 

 He bundles me into the sleeping bags and slips in with me, holding me
close. "Body heat." He explains, but I'm not complaining. Dief comes
around the other side of me and I'm warm, I'm really warm. Eventually I
fall asleep.  

 I wake up in bed, quite alone except for a raging boner. The dream is
vivid. I can still see, taste... oh God. We didn't even really do
anything. Heh. In reality we didn't do anything. And that don't look like
changing no time soon. I get up and drag myself into the bathroom, but
that of course alerts Fraser, who come to talk to me through the door. 

 "Are you quite all right, Ray?" 

 "Yeah, Frase, just had a dream." 

 "A nightmare?" 

 Well, not the last part of it. "Not exactly, just a little..." 

 "Unsettling?" 

 "Yeah, that's the word." 

 "Do you want to talk about it?" 

 "Not really, Frase. I just want to wash the sweat off me." 

 "You know you can talk to me about anything." 

 Yeah, anything except this, I'm sure. "I know Frase." I say, although it
hurts, "Thanks." 

 I shower quickly. Two showers in one day. Huh. Grey sweats and a T-shirt
and holy fuck something smells good. My stomach growls and I realise I
haven't eaten in ages. Walking through the living room, I scratch Dief's
ears as I pass the couch. Fraser'd tell him to get down, but I don't mind
a bit of wolf hair. And besides, I love that damn wolf. Not that I'd ever
admit that to anyone. Entering my kitchen, I see Fraser, dressed in jeans
and a faded henley, dishing out food onto two plates. 

 "What's that?" I ask. 

 He puts the frying pan down and grins at me. "It's just a stir-fry, Ray.
I thought you might appreciate a bite to eat." 

 "That's not a bite, Fraser, that's fucking gourmet." He's got beef in
there, some noodle stuff and these strange mushrooms that you see in Asian
cooking, along with green vegetables of some sort and peppers too.
"Where'd you get all this?" 

 "Diefenbaker and I stopped at the market on the way back." 

 "The mushrooms?" 

 "We walked quite far." 

 "I can tell." I say, "You know, you could always take the Goat." 

 "I quite enjoyed the walk." 

 Typical Fraser. "Anyone ever tell you you're a freak?" 

 "Not recently." He smiles at me, and I smile back, drinking in the
happiness that's written on his face. But eventually his expression
becomes slightly quizzical. 

 "What?" I say. 

 "Dinner, Ray?" 

 Oh right. "Yeah of course, sorry I was..." staring like a lovesick fool
"Woolgathering." 

 "Distracted." He says. It looks like he wants to play. 

 "Considering." 

 "Distracted." Normally the positions are reversed, and he's having fun. 

 "Er...ruminating." 

 "Distracted." 

 Oh damn, this is getting hard. "My attention was momentarily focused
elsewhere." I dredge up. 

 "Distracted." Fraser says, his eyes gleaming. 

 I laugh then. "Distracted." 

 He laughs too and hands me a full plate, before dishing more out for
himself. We eat on the couch, which isn't too unusual I suppose, and even
though it isn't pizza, Dief begs shamelessly. Fraser ignores him of
course. 

 "It's not pizza Dief." I stage whisper to him. "I can't exactly toss you
a slice." 

 "It's better for him then pizza." Fraser says, without taking his eyes
off the hockey. 

 "Because he doesn't get any?" I ask, amused. 

 "That too." Fraser says with a grin. 

 It's Atlanta vs. Montreal though, and the Habs are still on their losing
streak, so the game isn't as interesting as it otherwise could be. My mind
wanders a bit in the last period. Atlanta's up 5-2 and the Habs already
have one man in the box, so they're unlikely to snatch back a win with
five minutes on the clock. Even if they do pull the goalie. I wish it
could always be like this. Me, Frase...I remember my dream, the softness
of his lips. Huh. No, I wish it could be like this and then some. But it's
dangerous. He caught me out just now, and that's not a good thing. He'd
bolt off to Canada...again. Of course, a little voice at the back of my
head nags at me, reminding me that Fraser's going back to Canada anyway,
but I don't listen. I know that. Maybe I can tell him before he leaves.
But until then, I want to savour every minute I can get. 

 "...Ray, Ray...Ray!" 

 I almost what. "Yeah?", he's looking at me - concerned Mountie again. 

 "Are you all right, Ray, you seem rather...distracted this evening." 

 "Yeah." I say. "Just the dream, Frase. It was weird." 

 He rubs his eyebrow. "I don't mean to pry, Ray, but it could help to talk
about it." 

 Sure it would, but not with you, Frase. Least of all with you. "It's a
bit hazy." I hedge. "I don't really remember that much." 

 "But it was disquieting?" 

 "Kinda." I shrug. "Tell me about Canada." 

 He frowns, but goes with my subject change. "Well, it's big, cold and
lies north of the American border, Ray." 

 I punch him lightly on the arm. "I meant Canada where you are, you Crazy
Mountie." I narrow my eyes, "And you knew that, didn't you?" 

 "Well, Ray, when you said Canada, I automatically assumed..." 

 "You did not." 

 "Well no, not really." 

 I stop, and laugh with him again. "Come on, tell me about Inuvik then." I
say. 

 He stops and thinks for a bit. "It's small, cold and lies north of the
American border, Ray." He says this time and I'm laughing my ass off.
"What else did you want to know?" 

 Oh man, he's killing me, and only the twinge in my chest stops me from
losing it totally. 

 "Not that I don't appreciate it, Frase, but please don't make me laugh
too much." I gasp. "I don't want to bust my stitches." 

 He sobers immediately. "Oh, Ray, I'm sorry, I forgot." 

 "Hey, I enjoyed it. It's all right." 

 "No it isn't." he says. "You're supposed to be resting, and I was
supposed to be watching out for you and I totally forgot." 

 "Fraser!" I almost snap. "I am resting, and you are watching out for me,
and I almost forgot too." 

 "It doesn't matter, it's inexcusable..." 

 "Wait a sec, I'm allowed to forget, but you're not?" 

 "Well..." 

 "Fraser, relax, am I in hospital right now?" 

 "No." he says, a small smile of relief on his face. 

 "Am I going back any time soon?" 

 "No." 

 "Right, so, we good?" 

 I get a real smile at that. "Yes, Ray." 

 "Good. So how is life in Inuvik?" I say. 

 He goes quiet then, stares off into the distance for a moment, his tongue
flicking out over his lips. But just as I'm about to ask if something's
wrong he starts talking - although he still doesn't look at me. 

 "Quiet." He says softly, "It's very different from the city, Ray. We're
not a large community, although I wouldn't say we want for much. There's
the igloo church and a lot of the houses are painted in light pastel
shades. There isn't really much crime, but there are of course patrols." 

 "Fishing over the limit? Hunting without a licence?" I half joke. 

 "Not as much now, no." Fraser says, looking back at me, his eyes hooded.
"It's quiet, serene, pretty even." 

 "And Maggie's there." 

 "Yes, she is." 

 "It's good to know you're happy there." I say. And it's true, I am glad
that he's happy. I wish he could be happy here with me, or me up there
with him, but it's not going to happen. Knowing he's happy is the most
important thing. Sometimes I think it's the only thing I got left. Then I
hear what he's saying. 

 "...actually feel somewhat restless there, Ray." 

 That floors me. "No kidding?" He's serious too. "B-but it's Canada right?
Home? The place you've been trying to get back to since you arrived in
this godforsaken hellhole of a city?" 

 "Well, yes." He says, looking away again. "But it no longer seems to be
what I remembered it to be." 

 I laugh humourlessly, "I can drink to that, Frase." 

 He looks at me sharply, "I take it that you find Chicago somewhat
unsettling?" He says, somewhat shocked. 

 I gesture around at my now clean apartment. "Look around you, Frase. You
noticed that when you first walked in." 

 "But I didn't think you were unhappy here." He sounds upset. 

 "I'm not." I say hurriedly, and that relaxes him a bit. "But I'm not
exactly happy here either, Frase."  

 "Ah." I say. He's referring to Stella, of course. 

 "What's that supposed to mean?" 

 "Just that I understand, Ray. It's...not easy losing someone you love.
And I know you always wanted children." 

 He looks a little confused. "What's me once wanting children got to do
with anything?" 

 "You told me earlier that Stella is - ah - expecting." I say, trying to
be diplomatic. 

 "Yeah, but how does that relate to the price of tea in..." I see
comprehension wash over his face and he laughs somewhat bitterly. "No
Frase. I'm over Stella. Been over her for a while, really. Apart from
being a news item from my Mom and the donor of some of my current
furniture - oh and part of my history - Stella might as well not exist." 

 "But that's the problem, isn't it? Letting...letting go." 

 His mouth quirks, "Letting go, yes." He agrees. "But Frase, I let go of
Stella a long time ago. I don't want her anymore and it doesn't hurt. Dot
it, file it, stick in a box marked done." 

 Now I feel a little confused, "Then what is wrong, Ray?" 

 He looks away, and opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it. Then
he looks back at me. "I missed you." 

 My mouth falls open in surprise. Partially because I was expecting Ray to
have moved on, in part because I had the exact same problem in Inuvik, but
also because I'm shocked to find that some part of me is happy that he's
been miserable without me. But the look on his face, one of naked
vulnerability forces me to speak. 

 "I missed you too, Ray." I say, "But I'm here now." 

 "But you'll be leaving." 

 My chest hurts, for him and for me. I want nothing more than to take him
in my arms and hold him but I can't. Why do I always - always - have the
misfortune to fall in love with the wrong people. Granted, Ray is wrong in
a much different way to Victoria, unavailable, rather than homicidal, but
to some extent the sentiment still holds - even if it is totally
inappropriate to compare Ray with Victoria, his light to her dark.
"I'm...not sure I want to leave." 

 "But you will." 

 "Possibly." 

 He looks sharply at me. "You saying you might not have to go back?" 

 "I could always request a transfer back." 

 He doesn't reply to that, his eyes seeming to flicker between emotions so
quickly I cannot place them. My chest constricts tightly and I feel the
first prickling of tears behind my eyes. "Unless...unless of course you
don't...want me to come back." I say. 

 He sits up in horror. "No! No! I'd love it if you came back, Frase,
but..." he stops. 

 "But..." I prompt him. 

 He lowers his gaze, "Nothing, Frase. I'm being silly." 

 I know him well enough to know that isn't true. "I seriously doubt that,
Ray." 

 He looks up, his mercurial temper flaring, "Why? I can be a silly as the
next guy, Fraser." 

 "Maybe, but whatever it is obviously still bothers you, Ray." And I don't
like seeing you hurt, I add mentally. 

 "Yeah, maybe." He shrugs. "I just got some things to work through, all
right?" 

 I sigh. "Ray, please tell me what's bothering you." 

 He shakes his head mulishly, "I can't." 

 Even that stings a bit. "Why not? Ray, you know you can talk to me about
anything, right." 

 He looks up, almost seeming frightened. "I can't." 

 I half lean towards him, "Ray please..." it hurts to see you pained like
this, I was going to say, but he suddenly snaps. 

 "I can't, Fraser, all right! It's not something you can help me with, ok?
You're part of it!" 

 I jerk back, feeling as it I've been punched in the stomach. I don't know
what to say - I don't know if I can say anything. I simply stare at him,
opened mouthed as his expression changes rapidly from anger to shock to
terror. He meant it. He really meant it. Even though it's quite warm in
the apartment, I feel cold. I should leave. Somewhat stiffly I start to
get up off the couch. 

 "I didn't mean that." He says suddenly, quickly. 

 "I think you did, Ray." 

 "I didn't, I didn't, I really didn't mean it that way, just please don't
go." He says immediately, closing his eyes and bringing his head down into
his hands. 

 "But you did mean it, Ray, and if I'm part of the problem..." 

 "You're not." He says, looking up, "You're part of it, but you're not the
problem, I'm the problem, it's not you." 

 I sit back down, "Ray, please tell me." 

 "I can't." he says weakly staring at me from over the top his hands. 

 I sit in silence for a while, lost for words. Finally I use his.
"That's...that's not buddies, Ray." I say quietly. 

 I expect him to talk, or to relax, or perhaps to get angry and hit me
again, but he doesn't. He trembles, stares at me and finally breaks down
and cries, deep, wracking sobs that fill the apartment and rouse
Diefenbaker from his slumber by the TV. Ray pulls his knees up towards his
face and curls up defensively with his feet on the couch. And I'm holding
him in my arms and trying to soothe him before I realise I've moved. 

 "Ray, Ray...shh...it's ok, Ray..." 

 He pulls away from me to begin with, but eventually turns and buries his
head in my shoulder. I pat his back and stroke his hair and murmur
meaningless phrases as he slowly calms down. 

 "I don't want...you to go away." He chokes out between sobs. "And you
will, even if you stay, you'll leave." 

 "I'm here, Ray." I say, although I cannot comprehend his contradictory
statements. 

 "But you'll leave, you'll hate me, you'll hate me." He says, trying to
pull back. 

 I don't let him though, and hold him tighter. "I won't hate you, Ray. I
promise, I don't think that's possible." And no matter what he's done or
thinks he's done, that's probably true if my reaction to Victoria was
typical of me. 

 Dief whuffs softly from the floor by the sofa, "Neither Dief, nor I will
hate you." I say, both relaying Diefenbaker's comment and trying to cheer
Ray up a little. 

 He pulls back slightly and this time I let him. "Fraser." He says in a
quiet voice. "I...I love you." 

 "And I you, Ray." 

 "No." he says, "You don't get it. I love love you." 

 I stare at him, paralysed with, well, shock and joy, but he's trembling,
not daring to look at me. "See." He says miserably. "I told you you'd..." 

 I do the only thing I can possibly do and bring my head down to kiss him.
"And I you, Ray." I whisper, before I kiss him again. 

 He kisses me back the second time, his arms tightening around my neck,
but when we eventually break off to breathe I find him crying again. 

 "Ray?" 

 "S'okay Frase." He says, smiling at me. "I'm good. I just never dared
hope..." he hugs me hard. 

 "Shh..." I hold him and rock him gently. "I'm here, Ray. And I don't
think I'll be going anywhere if I can help it. Hope and dream all you
want." 

 We simply hold onto each other quietly for a while, and Diefenbaker,
assured that nothing untoward has occurred, jumps onto the vacant end of
the sofa and goes back to sleep. For once I don't chastise him, indeed, I
am strangely reluctant to move even though my leg is falling asleep. I
wedged it into an awkward position when I came around to Ray's side of the
couch to comfort him. Despite the numbness I feel ridiculously scared that
to move or speak might somehow cause me to wake up and find that this is
all a dream, or that some vengeful God will wrest Ray away. Everyone I
loved has left me eventually, whether I like it or not. Suddenly I'm
scared. Please, please, please don't let Ray leave me. Please. 

 "Not going anywhere Frase." He mumbles somewhat sleepily against my
chest, and I realise I have spoken aloud. 

 I draw back and kiss his forehead. "You have no idea how much that means
to me, Ray." 

 He draws back from me, smiling, if puffy eyed. "Yeah I do Ben. It means a
lot to me too. I figured you'd be running back to Canada as fast as you
possibly could." 

 I laugh weakly, "I admit I had similar concerns, Ray." 

 "You thought I'd go running up to Canada to avoid you? Really, Frase,
that's hardly logical." 

 I laugh, glad that he can still tease me. "That's not quite what I meant,
and you know that Ray." I chide. 

 He sighs. "Yeah, I do, Ben. But hey, I'll try anything once." 

 "Twice if you like it." I murmur, and then realise. "What did you call
me?" 

 Ray pauses. "Um, well...sorry...I just...I use it in my head a lot I
guess, and..." 

 I put two fingers against his mouth to stop him. "I don't mind Ray.
I...I'd like it if you called me Ben." 

 He smiles at that, and sucks both my fingers into his mouth. His tongue
is gentle, investigating each of the digits before his lips move down to
my knuckles. He sucks hard and my penis stiffens as his actions call to
mind something much more erotic, more pleasurable more....  

 Hot. I thought Fraser was hot. Well, he was, but Ben? Ben is dynamite. He
groans softly as I savour his taste - clean and Canadian, go figure - and
I leave his fingers to kiss his mouth, his jaw and start down his neck
only to meet the collar of his henley. My fingers reach for the buttons
and stop. 

 "Ben?" I ask him, 

 "Yes?" 

 "Have you ever done this before?" 

 He looks at me, "Yes." He says, "A few times when I was younger. Have
you?" 

 "Not really." I say, "I've thought about it and I know what's involved,
but I've never, y'know, done it." 

 His eyes go smoky, "Thought?" 

 I kiss him again. "Oh yeah, Mountie, thought." 

 He pulls back. "I was wondering...that is I would like to know if
I...ah..." 

 I kiss him again, slipping my tongue into his mouth. He has a big mouth
and his tongue slicks over mine and is soon invading my mouth to get
acquainted with my teeth. I pull back for air after a while. "You were in
all of them, Mountie, any more questions?" 

 "Well, actually yes." He says, licking his lower lip - at once both
nervous and sexy as hell - "I was thinking that the couch might not be the
most conducive place for our activities." 

 Half my brain is asleep - or rather taken over by hormones and his smell
but I manage to process it. "Then get into the bedroom Mountie." I growl
at him before getting off the couch and reaching down to haul him up. 

 We stumble towards the bedroom, him half pushing, me half dragging and
his mouth doesn't leave mine at all. He shuts the door behind us and walks
me backwards towards the bed, his hands making their way under my shirt to
explore my back before dipping down into my sweats to squeeze my ass. I
groan into his mouth and shove my hips forward, feeling his hardness
against my cock through the material of my sweats and his jeans. I'm
working his henley off his shoulders when my knees hit the edge of the bed
and I fall backwards, Fraser toppling over with me, but not onto me,
landing with his hands on either side of my head. 

 "Hi." I say. 

 "Hi." He replies, and lowers his body onto mine, kissing me deeply. 

 It goes from "Hi" to "Can I check out your tonsils" rather quickly, and
I'm grabbing his hair holding him close and practically trying to inhale
him. I can feel his lips on mine, the slickness of his tongue in my mouth
and the silky fineness of his hair. I feel his henley, unbuttoned but not
quite off, scratching my skin and the heat of his body through his
undershirt. I feel his heat, his weight, branding my soul but it's not
enough. I want flesh. I kiss my way across his jaw and start down his
neck, pushing the henley up and over his shoulders, and he raises himself
slightly to help, and I leave his neck, trailing kisses down his chest
through his undershirt. I find one of his nipples under the shirt and
pause to lick and nibble for a while. He arches his back, a guttural sound
rolling from his throat as he presses himself against my mouth. I lick a
path to his other nipple, and as I nibble on it I bring my right hand up
to caress the first. So Ben has sensitive nipples. I am all over that. 

 "Ben," I say between licks, "you're wearing far too much clothing." 

 He smiles down at me, and pulls away slightly, bringing his hands down to
the hem of the undershirt. In one smooth motion he's lifted it off his
head and tossed it onto the floor and I see his chest. Oh I've seen it
before, and probably even noticed it but now I'm seeing it. No furtive
glances, no self questioning, it's just Fraser's chest. Smooth, broad,
heaving slightly and a little damp from sweat and my tongue. Let's go with
that, I think, and latch back onto his left nipple, causing him to moan
and clutch at my head. The smell of sweat, arousal and Ben fills my
nostrils, making my head feel light and my cock throb almost painfully in
my pants. Good thing I wore underwear today. I leave his nipples and lick
my way down his abdomen to the top of his jeans, my hands cupping his
bulging crotch and his hands roaming over my neck and shoulders. I pause
and look up at him. We've gone quite far, but the next step is...well,
it's like committing ourselves to this. As if it defines whether or not we
can pretend to forget about this. I don't want to forget, I want this, I
want this so bad. 

 "Ben, can I..." 

 He looks at me with half-lidded eyes. "Anything, Ray." He groans,
"Anything." 

 For a moment I freeze, stunned at the level of trust he's giving me, his
head lying back on the pillows of my bed, his eyes closed... Anything, he
said. I grin as I undo the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper,
revealing the crisp white of his boxers underneath. I grab them too. 

 "Lift up." I say, my voice coming out a little hoarse. 

 He does, and I pull his pants and boxers mostly off, and he kicks them
fully off while I stare at him. His dick is just like him: solid. It's
hard, pointing up towards his navel and throbbing, but it looks like he's
not a leaker. Anything, he'd said. I bend my head close to his groin and
sniff, my nose nearly brushing his cock, and then I move slightly and
sniff again, inhaling his musk, his scent, his arousal. He groans and his
hands grip the sheets as I extend my tongue to lick his shaft, tasting
everything I just smelt - and then some. Slow laps up to the head and down
as I open my mouth to suck on his balls. All men like that. I know men
like that. But for some reason women don't realise it. Stella never did.
But I do, and Ben does, and I trail my open mouth back up the length of
his cock after wetting his balls and take the head fully into my mouth as
he groans my name and his hands come to hold my head again. Just hold
though, and I'm sure he doesn't want to force me. And I don't want him to
either. I'm sure I'd gag. I know what's involved, of course, watched tons
of porn, but I've never had any real experience. But he tastes good.
Thick, a little salty. I slide my fist down his length, pulling back his
foreskin and taking in as much of him into my mouth as possible. Then I
close my lips around him and suck hard as I pull back. I feel him groan
rather than hear him, as my blood is pounding in my ears and all I am
really aware of is Frase, Ben, his cock, thick and pulsing in my mouth,
just a hint of pre-cum at the tip to taste. I lap at the slit with my
tongue, causing him to tighten his fingers into my hair. 

 I'm hard, I'm aching and I fumble one handed with my zipper, yanking it
down to give myself some breathing room as I attack Fraser's cock, licking
tasting and longing for the real taste of him as he tries his best not to
buck into my mouth. Sweat drips of my forehead, and I can smell myself
mixing with the intoxicating scent of Fraser, and his breathing starts
getting faster and more ragged and his hands tighten on my head and I
swallow down as much of him as possible, my fist preventing me from taking
so much of him that I gag. I reach up with my other hand to tweak his
nipples and that does it. He cries out, and I hear my name in there
somewhere but then his cock is jerking and pulsing in my mouth and his cum
is filling me, I swallow, savouring the taste of him, but there's too much
and some of it leaks out of the corners of my mouth. 

 "Ray..." he gasps, and he pulls me off him, and kisses me, no doubt
tasting himself as he does. Then he opens his eyes and looks at me, his
eyes a smoky blue. 

 "Your turn." He growls. 

 I almost come in my pants at those words. But he's kissing my chin, my
neck, and latching on just above where my T-shirt collar would be and
biting lightly, and sucking. Shit, he's marking me... 

 "Ben, someone's going to see that." I gasp. 

 He lets go of my neck and grins at me wolfishly, "I know." 

 "But...but...everyone at work..." 

 "Won't think it's from me." He says, looking smug. "Enjoy it." He starts
to lean down again. 

 "What if they ask?" I say, still somewhat shocked but thoroughly turned
on by the thought of wearing his love-bite in public and having no one the
wiser. 

 "I'm sure you'll come up with something." He says against my neck. "I
have every faith in your abilities." He whispers before he marks me. 

 I groan, running, my hands through his perfect hair and down across his
shoulders as he grips my waist and his lips and tongue travel down my
chest. He stops at my nipples, but I'm not as sensitive as he is there and
he leaves a trail of kisses between by pecs as he heads down to my navel.
I'm an innie and he licks me out good. His tongue circles the outside
before dipping in and thrusting, mimicking another act, and act I've
thought of, but never done with a man. I don't know if I could right now,
but this I can handle. I groan and buck slightly, but he's got my hips
held tightly. But he gets the hint and moves down, down, down and I feel
the wet warmth of his mouth surround my dick. I instinctively try to
thrust myself down his throat, but his hands on my hips prevent that too,
and he's off me in a flash and taking my balls into his mouth and rolling
them around and damn does that feel good. He lets them go and I feel his
spit sliding down my cock and balls, into the cleft of my ass and I
shiver. 

 "Ray?" He asks, 

 "Mmmmmmm." Is about all I can say, "Good." I manage to whisper, and his
mouth is on me again, his tongue licking around my circumcision scar
before taking me all in, in to the root. I gasp at the heat and strength
of him, the constriction of his throat muscles on my cockhead as he
swallows threatening to drive me over the edge. He pulls back and swallows
me again, and I cup his face, feeling myself slip down his throat through
the skin of his neck. This is my partner, Ben, the one man I fell in love
with and was sure I could never have, deep throating me. I feel a finger
slip between my cheeks and tease the little puckered opening there,
already slick with sweat and the spit that dripped down from my balls.
Small electric shocks seem to radiate from my ass, some of them heading
straight for my cock and I twitch in his mouth, feeling my orgasm
building. 

 "Frase...Ben..." I gasp as he sucks hard and fingers me again. 

 "Ben, I'm cumming!" I all but scream and he backs off so that only the
head of my cock is in his mouth when I explode, flooding his mouth with my
semen and he swallows it all. 

 It's some time before I calm down and come back to earth from wherever it
was I was floating around. Ben is giving my now wilting cock a last lick
and he sighs as he pulls off me, resting his head on my hip. 

 "That was amazing." I say weakly, "Come up here." 

 He does, and I kiss him, and I taste me, but I also taste him and it's
all good. 

 "I love you, Ben." I murmur, although my eyes are growing heavy - despite
the fact that I spent most of the day sleeping. 

 "And I you Ray." I hear as I snuggle up against him and start to doze
off, "And I you." 

End Returning - Part 1 by Rathful Matt: keldaryth@yahoo.co.uk

Author and story notes above.