Long Journey Home 4/?      Long Journey Home 4/?

 by XTricks

  

 

 Disclaimer: AA ownes 'em. I don't.

 Author's Notes: 

 Story Notes: No spoilers, set after the series when Fraser is back in
Canada and both Ray's are in the US. Some violence, medical stuff and,
later, explicit m/m sex.

 This story is a sequel to: Long Journey Home 3/? 

 

 So Fraser's room had gone from zero to crowded in a week and it was
driving Ray batshit. Frobisher was there 'cause he and Maggie were on
Fraser's next of kin list. Maggie turned up the day after Ray tested out
the men's room for pukeability; she'd been on long patrol and out of
touch. Maggie didn't have the same cast iron Mountie armor her brother and
watching her face crumple; yeah, okay so Fraser got friends up here and he
wasn't alone. They were still gonna have to pry Ray's ass outta the chair
by his bed with a crowbar and a restraining order. 

 Ray was coming back with a cup of coffee and some chips from the
machine--he was getting real friendly with that machine--and found
Vecchio, the other Ray, in his chair. 

 "Yer sittin' in my chair," Ray muttered. 

 "This ain't kindergarten, Kowalski, deal," Vecchio hardly looked up from
Fraser's still, blank face. "He been like this the whole time?" 

 Ray hadn't been looking much at Fraser; talking to him, yeah, until he
was hoarse but he couldn't look at him. Hurt too much. "He's looking
better," he said defensively. 

 He wasn't lying and that made it worse somehow, like some healing bruises
and no more fever made a difference when Fraser's brain was off talking to
moose or his dad or something in la-la-land. They'd taken most of the
bandages off his face and he was gonna have a scar but Fraser still had
both eyes; Ray hadn't been so sure about that, first time he saw him.
Things were getting better, things were getting better and maybe Fraser
would check back in with his body sometime and see that--maybe even stick
around. 

 "Okay, okay," Vecchio sighed, dragging his coat closed, looking like he
was settling in for a long haul. Ray smirked; Armani didn't make no
longjohns and Vecchio was looking pretty chilly in his suit and silk tie.
Looked like shit, actually, like someone who'd spent too long on a plane,
thinking bad thoughts; sunken eyes, stubble, hell--it even looked like
Vecchio needed a shower and Ray hadn't seen the Style Pig look so worn out
before. So, maybe feeling smug wasn't such a good thing because Vecchio
was here for Fraser and that was a gold star in Ray's book. 

 "Hey, you want some coffee?" Ray held out his cup, which should have
'Peace Offering' stamped on the side. It was almost good to have Vecchio
here; when it came to Fraser, he and Vecchio were on the same page. 

 "Sure," Vecchio's voice, with it's Chicago bang, was strange after all
the 'thankyou' s' and 'if you please', Ray listened too whenever the
nurses drove him out of Fraser's room. Ray pulled up Maggie's chair and
started in on the chips while Vecchio stared at Fraser. 

 "He's still alive," Ray said again, watching like Vechhio was watching.
Looking for a sign. "He'll come back." 

 "Sure, 'couse he will" Vecchio smiled like a shark, fake and wide and Ray
wonder if he was seeing the Bookman here, and reached out, folding his
fingers over the unbandaged tips of Fraser's hand and Ray wanted to pop
him one. That was his hand, the one he held and Maggie had the other and
it was his chair. Vecchio dragged a handful of wooden beads out, a sliver
crucifix gleaming in the fluorescent lights, face slack with desperation
before he bent over the rosary. "Hail Mary full of grace--" 

 "--blessed art thou among women--," Ray found himself whispering,
smelling childhood and church, and remembering these words--polish,
English, Italian--it didn't matter. Cops heard them a lot; perps and
partners, whispered and wept and screamed. When you got nothing else, you
always got God; except he didn't give any guarantees and he sure as hell
didn't give anything without taking away. But the words; maybe you could
believe in miracles because he really, really needed to believe in
miracles again. 

 [I]"--and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus Christ--[/I]  

 Fraser could hear the dogs barking, and the hiss of the snow--he was
sledding-- and everything was white and clean and true. But he didn't know
where he was; the air around him was featureless, he couldn't even seen
the dogs he heard. 

 He was lost, he knew it, and didn't know where to turn. No stars to
navigate by, no landmarks, no map, no reaching hand. No bundle of
instincts and energy to tell him what to do when logic failed. He didn't
know where he was or what he was rushing towards and the dogs--barking
high pitched and strange and distant--only ran faster and faster. Fraser's
chest tightened with unfamiliar panic. 

 He was lost.  

 The music stopped. 

 "Wha--?" Ray jerked his head up, blinking then shoving his way to his
feet in a hammering panic. Not music, Fraser. A settling exhalation, no
inhalation, and the dropping beep-beep-beep falling to the steady whine of
an alarm. "Frase, Frase, Frase, Frase!" 

 There were running feet in the hall and, god, nothing on Fraser's face,
nothing at all--no fight and Ray was yelling at him and where were the
docs--standing. Just standing in the door. 

 "Godammit!" Ray saw them standing in the fucking door and not doing
anything, fucking Canadians, and Fraser was dying here! Ray's fingers were
dancing with adrenaline and he couldn't see for shit 'cause he was fucking
crying and they weren't doing anything. "He's dying--get over hear! What
the fuck-- what the fuck!" 

 "Mr. Kowalski--" 

 "Wat's wrong with you?" Ray shrieked and where was Vecchio when he needed
the bastard. Fraser needed to breathe, Fraser needed air and Ray knew
that, he knew that one. Scrambling over Fraser, knees crushing the bedding
and the IV tube--buddy breathing--he knew this. Air, air and a kick to the
head when one of the nurses tried to pull him off. Fraser's
mouth--cool--and Ray sobbed into him, breathing 'cause they were buddies.
They were partners and he breathed and breathed, vision sparkling with
darkness 'cause he didn't save any air for himself. 

 "Lemme go!" He yelled, mouth popping free, locking hands on the bedrails
as someone yanked at his belt. It wasn't nurses now but big strapping
Canadian security goons and they hauled him off. Pulled him away from
Fraser; he had to breathe for him. Ray had to make Fraser breathe and he
couldnt catch his own breath, bright lights spinning as he was slammed to
the floor--bouncing up Chicago style with a smack to a goon's head. 

 "Gonna bogart you all--you're killing him--lemme go! Lemme go!" 

 "Stop--Mr. Kowalski! You've violated--" 

 Ray lunched forward, trying to get back to Fraser but he was buried in
doctors now and Ray wanted his gun, he wanted his badge because it looked
like murder in here. He wanted back-up. "Vecchio! Vecchio--man down!" 

 It was dogpile on the Pollack and Ray was dragged out of Fraser's room
hollering for Vecchio, for Fraser, kicking heads. There was a flash of red
and it was Maggie--still in uniform. 

 "Maggie--!" Ray yelled, both arms twisted up his back by the hospital
goons until it felt like they were gonna pop out of his shoulders,
dangling off the floor and hating being skinny. Maggie came right up,
flashing that anger just like Fraser did sometimes and Ray knew it would
be okay now. She came right up and popped him a good one. "Aa-oww!" 

 Ray was still seeing stars, toes dragging as he was hauled away from
Fraser. He was thrown onto a couch and bounced back up, ready for another
round, and Maggie shoved him back down. 

 "They're fucking killin' him!" he yelled. 

 "What were you thinking Ray?" Maggie shouted hoarsely. "What were you
doing in there?" 

 "Maggie--Maggie--" Ray tried to shake the words out, he didn't want to
leave Fraser alone. "Frase flat-lined and they didn't do anything!" 

 "Of course not," Maggie's voice was stumbling, squeezed out of a tight
throat and bright eyes. "Fraser left instructions--no--no resuscitation.
Nothing like that." 

 All the fight left Ray and he stared at her, mouth hanging open. "What?
What the fuck is that? No-nonono--he don't get to do that. He don't get to
do that! No way." 

 "Of course he does," Maggie had her palms pressed to her eyes but Ray
could see the tears dripping down her wrists. Her breath hitched and Ray
clenched his fists. "Of course he does." 

 "Maggie," Ray begged. "Maggie, please." 

 "Why do you always make it worse?!" Maggie dropped her hands and Ray
backstepped 'cause Maggie looked ready to clean his clock. She was
yelling-- even in uniform--yelling at him. Yelling. "Why are you here? To
make it harder? To make me hate myself more? Do you think I want to watch
him die like this? He's like--like a ghost already!" 

 "He--he needed air," Ray held out his hands, patting the air, trying to
make her see. Shifting from foot to foot, where was Vecchio? What was
going down with Fraser? Was he breathing now? Ray's heart was twisting in
his chest, he could hardly breathe--like Fraser still had all his air. He
had to be alive. He had to. "We're b-buddies and he needed air, Maggie. I
gotta give him that--I-I owe him that." 

 "You," Maggie pointed at him, hand shaking, face wet and Ray could see
the circles under her eyes, dark as his own. "You stay here and if you
open that door I'll have you arrested and deported." 

 Ray dropped like a dog into one of the chairs, because he wasn't leaving
this hospital. Wasn't leaving Fraser here. "Maggie--Maggie--you'll tell me
right? Tell me if--if he's--" 

 Maggie slammed through the door without answering. 

 TBC 

End Long Journey Home 4/? by XTricks: x_tricks2000@yahoo.com

Author and story notes above.