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      	  Becoming Ben 
 by wordwench  

 Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. If I did, they wouldn't be let
out of the bedroom.

 Author's Notes: This is my first fanfic ever, Woo Hoo. Be kind. Nah. Be
honest. 

 Story Notes: I have failed to put a crime into this story. Just assume
that Ben is mugged. I figure, with his luck with criminals, it's a
definite possibility. 

 

 

 He woke up in a hot sweat. Threaded through with needles and tubes, he
felt restrained and uncomfortable. As he began to take in his
surroundings, panic set in. Where was he? Wait. Pause. Think. He
remembered the smell...he was in a hospital. As he tried to sit up, he
felt that the pain seemed to be emanating from one location, the back of
his head. The man reached his left hand to the back of his head and
gingerly felt the rather large bump underneath the bandaging in place
around his head. What was going on? And who was the man beside him,
cradling his right hand in the arms he was currently sleeping on. That
explained weird prickly feeling in that hand at least. Unnerving though,
not knowing who this guy who was holding him quite lovingly was. He should
know that right? That was strange, wasn't it?

 He put his left hand back on the covers but left his right hand to be
squished. It felt comfortable and more importantly, comforting. He
examined the man at his side, wit his wild blond hair on top of tanned
soft looking skin and long luxuriant lashes that would not be out of place
on a girl. He wondered if the hair felt like silk or like straw. Knowing
no reason to not do so, he reached his hand out and touched the spikes.
They were soft to the touch, and he automatically began carding his
fingers through the rebellious hair until the head moved and made a
content little humming noise. A feeling of guilt crept over the man and he
quickly removed his hand and rested it lightly on the covers. The face
looked up, and he was treated to the sight of the most wonderful blue
green eyes; they had depth like an ocean.

 "Fraser? Fraser! Thank you God, you're awake!" A smile like the sun alit
on the blonde's face, creating wrinkles that made his grin even more
welcoming. God, could this man be any more tempting? Oh, he was still
calling for him. Well, at least he new his name now. Fraser. Odd. Oh. The
man was waiting for an answer. "Yeah, 'guess so, eh?" Fraser replied as
best as he could. The other man's eyes honed in on his own, searching for
something, maybe reassurance. "I'm going to get a doctor, Frase. Dief,
make sure he doesn't leave." the man said now. Hmm. Dief? Who was Dief?
Another person perhaps? He scanned the room and drew a quick intake of
breath at the sight of a wolf in his room. Was he imagining things? Oh
great, this was just perfect. Maybe he was insane as well. Luckily, just
as his musings were getting more and more panicked, he was interrupted by
the first man returning with another, older one. 

 "So Constable Fraser, how are we feeling?" Ah, he hated the royal we.
"I'm uh, fine. My head hurts a bit, but that'll pass right, doc?" Fraser
returned as best as he could and then turned to look at the blonde man who
had a suspicious and unhappy look on his face. "Yes, that ache will
eventually pass. Mr. Vecchio, would you mind leaving your partner for a
bit?" the doctor asked as kindly as possible. Fraser watched as his
partner left with a last worried look.

 "So Constable, can you tell me anything about what happened to help you
land in the hospital?" Benton could hear an unspoken concern in the
question. "Uh no. I actually don't remember much...at all" Fraser
responded, adding the last part rather quietly as his voice tapered off.
"Mr. Fraser, can you tell me what your partner's name is?" the doctor
queried back immediately -- he had some suspicions of the nature of the
head injury, and he wanted them disproved as quickly as possible,
considering the fact that Benton Fraser was one of his favourite patients.
"Mr. Vecchio." Fraser answered without hesitation, but as soon as it was
out of his mouth he knew he had it wrong. Why wouldn't he know the first
name of his partner? "Mr. Fraser, what's your first name?" Fraser felt
that this was very quickly becoming a cross examination. Fraser looked
pensively at the doctor, his fingers flicking at his eyebrow. "What is
that on the ground?" the doctor asked next, pointing to the wolf. He had a
sneaking suspicion that his concerns about the severity of the constable's
condition were true. This was not good. "A wolf. I believe his name is
Dief." Fraser replied, with little to none of the confidence that the man
usually displayed. The look that the Doctor gave him was drawn. As far as
he knew, the wolf was Benton Fraser's best friend besides Ray Kowalski,
and for him not to know either was, frankly, unsettling. With a squeeze of
Fraser's shoulder the doctor made reassuring sounds, and left to speak
with the group in the hallway. Fraser tried to relax, but found he
couldn't push down the nagging feeling that all was very, very wrong in
his head. 

 When the doctor approached Ray, Frannie, Det. Welsh, and Sgt. Thatcher,
he had an expression his face that did not bode well. Dr. Walters really
hated this part of the job. "I'm forced to admit Constable Fraser has
amnesia. It is, I believe, selective, but he must undergo extensive tests
before we know what's going on." The thunderous reaction he had expected
didn't happen. his audience was shocked into silence. He could've heard a
pin drop. Concern was written across everybody's faces. The good doctor
continued his speech, explaining the tests, and finally ending with the
phrase, "we don't want to stress him out, so please help him as much as
possible by not aggravating him with questions or comments he won't have
the answer to. It will just put undue pressure on him. If two of you at a
time would like to visit between tests, then that would be fine. We'll let
you know when he can have visitors." Dr Walters turned and left, already
calling over several nurses to begin testing. 

 "I'm going to stay with him. You guys can work out whoever is with me
between your selves." Ray snarled, obviously upset. God. It was his
partner with amnesia...it was his friend, the man he felt he shared his
soul with. He was so worried, that he cared fuck all about any of the
other people in that waiting room. 

 He rubbed the wetness off of his face roughly and walked to the hospital
cafeteria to pass the time until he could see Fraser again. Grabbing some
coffee, not even paying attention to the flavour, he went and sat down in
one of the hospital green plastic chairs. Fuck, his cheeks were wet again.
He surreptitiously wiped his face off and was startled with the appearance
of an older mountie in front of him. Upset by the recent upheaval in his
life, Ray didn't even bother asking who the guy was. 

 The mountie leaned forward earnestly and said quietly," I know it's going
to be difficult, but you need to help Benton. He's going to need you in
more ways than you think in the next few weeks, and you'd better be strong
for him." Ray leaned back in his chair. "Of course I'll be there for him.
He's my best friend." he replied waspishly to the older man. "Son, don't
take me for a fool. I know you've fallen into the bottle when things have
gotten difficult in the past. This time Benton is depending on you. I'm
depending on you. And whether or not you believe me, your future is
depending on you." With that rather cryptic final statement, the mountie
walked out of the cafeteria. Ray shook his head. The nerve of some people,
he thought. Then, in some small corner of his mind he guiltily admitted
the fact that he had just been craving a glass of JD. The warning had come
in good time. This time he'd head his drinking off at the pass, and simply
never take that first sip. Fuck. One more thing to worry about. And damn,
but that man reminded him of someone. Whatever, it didn't matter, anyways.
Probably just another Turnbull. He finished his coffee, had a smoke, and
left for Fraser's room.

 **************************

 Between the tests, Ray visited along with a wide variety of other people.
The first week brought Welsh back occasionally, Thatcher and Turnbull,
Frannie and most of the Vecchio's and even Huey and Duey. Fraser was
looking better; actually looking more at peace than he had ever looked
before. Ray was, on the other hand, looking worse for wear by the end of
the week. This guy who was wearing Frase's body and voice was not his
Fraser and it freaked him right out. 

 At the end of the first week, the tests were done, and the doctor decided
to address Ray, the Vecchios, and an assortment of law enforcement
officials from both sides of the border about the next step. "Well people,
it seems as if Fraser has selective memory loss. He remembers the basic
things - what food is, what the things around him are, and how to interact
and communicate, but he doesn't remember specifics, like his favourite
food, his past, and who his friends and family are. He doesn't even know
what he does for a living. Now from what I can tell from the x-rays, this
isn't a case of psychological amnesia, it seems to be linked to a small
amount of swelling that occurred when he was hurt. I believe that the
swelling will go down, but that doesn't mean that he's going to remember
everything exactly as it was." He let the array of people react to his
first statement before continuing on. "The question I need to address is
where he will be the most at ease recuperating. He can not be alone for
long periods of time for this next week." Dr Walters looked around at the
group collected in the hospital hallway, then glanced subtly at Fraser's
partner. As far as he was concerned there was no choice in the matter. He
knew where Fraser needed to go. But unfortunately this was not a matter up
to his discretion. 

 That's when they started arguing. Thatcher insisted that he should either
go back to Canada or stay at the consulate - her rationale being that
those were Fraser's most important memories. Ray smirked, thinking she was
clearly deluded. The consulate didn't hold a candle to pizza, tea and a
hockey game for him and Fraser. 

 Frannie and Ma Vecchio were adamant that Fraser was to stay at their
house. After all, they had known him the longest, and could provide the
most warmth and comfort for Fraser. He checked his sneer just as it played
upon his lips. Ma was a good woman. Frannie was a good woman too, but ...
well, it wouldn't surprise Ray to learn that there was a bit of animal in
one of the Vecchios other than the fashion pig. Even the doctor didn't
seem to like the speculative gleam that appeared in Miss Vecchio's eyes.
And so the quarrel began in earnest. 

 Thatcher rebutted with a rather snarky remark about Frannie's intentions
to which the young woman replied with a rather ageist comment. Not needing
to hear more, Ray slipped out around the milieu and walked quietly to
Fraser's room.

 He was alone with Fraser for the first time since Frase had woken up. The
handsome man was sleeping and Ray took the opportunity to look at his
partner. He was so relaxed, his mouth curling up at the sides almost
smiling-like. And the hair was messier than Ray's own admittedly
experimental hair. His Fraser would never stand for that. Before he could
stop himself, he was using his fingers to comb Fraser's hair into some
semblance of order. However, he thought to himself, it was cute messy.
Maybe he should leave it that way. Unthinkingly he just let his hands run
through the soft hair that was just a little greasy from being in a
hospital for a week. Mmm soft and thick. It felt good against his palm.
When the deep blue grey eyes popped open, he was too startled to move. The
almost smile curved into a full blown Fraser smile and he kept staring.
"Hi Ray." "Hi Frase." Ray slowly took his hand out of the Mounties's hair
and blushed, but before either of the men could figure out what was going
on, everybody was in the room.

 Frannie spoke first, beating Thatcher by a second. "Oh Ben" She purred,
"we just think it would be great if you came home with us for the next
little while. So I'm just going to get you packed okay hon?" "On the
contrary! He needs his home away from home," interrupted Thatcher, "he
will come back to the consulate and Turnbull shall take care of him" and
with that, the brawl started over again.

 Ray looked at Fraser and saw how dismayed his partner was getting, then
he noticed something else. Fraser wasn't really distressed, he was
actually just getting angry. Ray, for that one moment, realized what an
alpha really was. "Hey, Shut the Fuck up!" a voice yelled. Every one
looked around. And then they realized that it was Fraser who had yelled.
"Frase?" Ray called quietly, "You okay?" he'd never heard the mountie
swear. "Yeah, Ray, I'm fine. I don't fucking know who I am, I don't
fucking know who anyone else is, and fucking mob rule is coming into
effect into my hospital room. Yeah. I'm fine. Perfectly. Fucking. Fine."
This time everyone was silently in shock. "Look. I don't know why the fuck
you're all arguing over me. I'm obviously going to go home with my
partner. Oh, and Franny, I may not know who you are, but I recognize the
predatory look in your eyes. And Thatcher? Stop being such a bitch." At
that, Ray just had to snicker. The situation was so unreal. 

 He laughed until he cried and then felt a hand on his back. Fraser was
rubbing circles on his back. He looked up to see the room was empty except
for the two of them. then glanced back at Fraser and smirked. "That's one
way to get rid of 'em!" He got up off the bed and began to collect the
small items off the window putting them semi-neatly into one of the gift
baskets. Ray then found the bag of clothes in the closet. "Here, change
into these in the bathroom while I get those guys to come in and bring the
rest of the stuff to my car." He tossed the bag at Fraser and left. By the
time Fraser had successfully untied the crazy hospital gown lingerie,
gotten into an awfully tight pair of jeans, white plain under things,
loose white Henley shirt, and baggy blue plaid button up shirt, and exited
the bathroom, there was a sort of queue of people with flowers going out
the door. Ray passed him his boots He threw them on without tying them up
and picked up the last big bouquet of flowers. Ray grunted and grabbed
them out of his hands. "'m not allowed to let you stress yourself out at
all for the next week, so grab your back pack, and follow me." Fraser did,
taking in the muscles that flexed under the black tight t-shirt the blonde
wore. He grinned a very un-mountie like grin to himself. Now he just had
to figure out what kind of partners they were. And maybe get into a black
T-shirt of his own. Oh yeah. And figure out who the hell he was. Yeah, it
was last on his list for a reason, and a damn good reason at that. 

 ******************************************

 When the group from the hospital had unloaded the flowers and gifts from
their cars and said good bye, Ray and Fraser went up the stairs to the
apartment. Once inside, they stood eyeing each other uncertainly. Ray went
over and put on some music to sooth his soul. Ramones. Oh yeah. He needed
a little pick me up after the mess in the hospital. He picked up a pile of
police files and handed them to Fraser, who had sat down on the couch.
"The doctor told me that in order to regain your memory, you're going to
have to stretch it a bit. Kinda like physical therapy. Reading those files
may help. They may be a little dis, ditr,uhhh" he waited for his partner
to correct him. Damn. Frase was looking expectantly at him for the next
word. "Disturbing. They'll be disturbing, but they may remind you of
stuff. Don't read all of them at once. Maybe two or three at a time. Uhm.
I'm gonna take a shower now, and then I'll make dinner. By the time I'm
done, Turnbull will be here with Dief." Ray ran his hands through his
hair. The old mountie was right. God he wanted a drink right now. But he
just simply couldn't. Ray grabbed some clothes from his bedroom, a couple
of towels, and headed for the shower.

 Once under the hot spray, behind the locked door, he let himself crumble.
He missed Fraser so badly it was an ache in his chest. God. Who knew he
had gotten so attached to the freak. The guy in there was just a pod
person. No. He wasn't. He couldn't think that way. He was Frase. He was,
dammit. He would remember. Sometimes he even did the nervous ticks Frase
did. Ray just had to figure out how to bring his memories back. He shut
off the spray, dried himself and threw on a pair of worn jeans and a white
t-shirt. 

 Once in the kitchen, he calmed down and lost himself in the regularity of
making dinner for him and for Frase. God knows he did it often enough. He
moved his head to the music and bopped up and down on the balls of his
feet while putting the stew on the stove his mom had sent over, and
popping some fresh bread in the stove. "just get me to the airport and put
me on a plane...hurry hurry hurry, before I go insane, I can't control my
fingers I can't control my brain no noh-oh-oh-oh-oh", he suddenly stopped
when he realized he was singing out loud. And dancing. While Fraser was
staring at him with some weird look in his eye. He stopped. "Hey Frase,
you want some tea? I got your favourite..." Fraser looked thoughtful.
"Actually, Ray, could I have a beer?" Ray froze. "Uh Frase, you don't
drink." "Never?" "...well except for toasts to the queen, no, never." Ray
assured him. "Plus, with your injury, you shouldn't be drinking anyways."
Fraser looked sheepish.

 "...Ah, Ray?" another neck crack, this time with an eyebrow scratch, "I
have another question. Are these my clothes? I seem to be dressing for
someone a half size smaller." A snicker slipped past Ray's lips. Yeah, he
had noticed the same thing. Although for him it had been a matter of
temptation, whereas for Fraser it was probably one more way to keep
himself tucked in and polished. From what he heard, the consulate paid
decently, so it couldn't be a lack of money. He had a small apartment as
well. Maybe he was saving for something. A cabin perhaps. "Frase, I don't
know what to tell you. You probably just never got around to getting some
new pairs of jeans." The tall dark haired man looked pensive. "Do I
usually tuck my shirts in?" Ray rolled his eyes. Damn. He so didn't want
to deal with this. "Yeah. You're usually really clean cut, Frase. You're
hair is usually tame, you tuck your buttoned up shirts in, you tuck your t
shirts in to your too tight jeans. People don't really care. They like
you. For you. You have impeccable manners, and you have perfect grammar.
You don't drink, smoke, and rarely do you date." 

 The pod person who would be Fraser paused and cracked his neck. Ray
sighed in relief. HE at least knew that sign. The I'm uncomfortable with
something, and I don't know how to quite express myself scratch. "Ray, I
sound pretty uptight." he said, unhappiness written in his now expressive
eyes. Ray wanted to go hug him, but wasn't sure if that would be too
affectionate. He walked over to the mountie and put his hand on his
shoulder. "Fraser, everybody loves you. You're a great guy. You're just a
perfectionist." Fraser turned into Ray and put his hand on Ray's shoulder.
"And how about you. Did you love me?" he said in a rough emotional voice.
Ray squinched his eyes. He really didn't want to deal with this. "Yeah,
Frase. you were my partner and best friend." Fraser sensed the difficulty
in this admittance and backed off. Whatever they were it was 'Frase' not
the Benton Fraser that had no memory. "This royally sucks." he whispered
and he saw the pain flash in his partners eyes at the last word.
Apparently 'Frase' didn't use cuss words. So why did they just keep coming
out of his mouth? HE went to the sofa and began to read the files left to
him, having nothing better to do. 

 **********************************************

 Ray sighed. He had left the apartment after dinner to go pick up more
reports - this time from the consulate - and to take a spin in his GTO.
When he came back 2 hours later Fraser was in the exact same position,
reading through the stacks of files. The wolf cuddled up to his side, had
been surprised when instead of the usual reprimand, he got cuddled back by
his human friend. The scene made him feel even more tired for some reason.
He wanted to be cuddled next to Frayze. Hell he would have settled for
Benton - no, he had to stop thinking like that. Anyways, tonight, he
needed his own bed. Or at least his own couch. "Hey Frase, I wanna turn
in. Do you want the couch or the bed?" Fraser looked up, his head swimming
from the information he had just processed and blinked. What was Ray
asking? Oh. Bed. Sounded good. He rubbed his eyes. "Obviously I'll take
the couch, right? It's not like I'm gonna take your bed from you." 'unless
you're in it' he mentally added to himself. Ray shrugged his shoulders. He
really couldn't care less. As long as he got to sleep. "Okay. lemme get
you some blankets 'n stuff." He disappeared into his bedroom and came out
with a bunch of blankets and pillows, all mismatched, and handed them to
his partner along with a pair of old baggy sweats he had in the back of
his closet. With a sheepish "Thanks, Ray." Fraser went into the bathroom
and got changed. By the time he was out, Ray was already in his room with
his door shut. He felt lonelier than he had in a while. 

 ****************************************************

 The next couple of days were spent finishing up the files. Apparently
this Ray was different from the first Ray, though he didn't remember the
original. After everything he read, the only points that his brain
conceded was that he had once been called "Benny" and that a general
feeling of malaise washed over him when he tried to recall the details of
the case that involved a woman named Victoria. There had been more to it,
he knew, even though he couldn't for the life of himself say what that
was. 

 Ray was distant. Sure, he filled in some of the details on the cases that
they had worked together when asked, but for the most part, he left Fraser
to his own devices. Ray simply couldn't seem to deal with the man he now
distinctively referred to as Benton. He missed the quirkiness of his old
friend, and wished that just for one night, he could have his 'Frayse'
back. There was just so much to say... 

 ****************************************************

 By the second week, Fraser was feeling cooped up inside the apartment,
and needed to get out. While scrambling through his stuff, he alighted on
a bank book - perfectly balanced, of course, and was pleased to find that
his savings account was quite ample. What he needed to do was convince Ray
that he was healthy enough to warrant a trip out. He was downright
claustrophobic in this small apartment. 

 "Ray?" Fraser quietly said to get the other man's attention "Yeah,
Benton?" Ray snapped back. Fraser cringed. He knew that this was the way
Ray separated them in his mind. Fraser and Benton. So stupid really. It
wasn't his fault that his memory of being an uptight prude was gone. He
swallowed his ire. "Ray, could we get out of this place for a while?" he
asked as nicely as possible considering the dark turn his mood took. "Uh,
that wouldn't be safe, Benton" Ah. The name again. Well fuck it. If Ray
wanted distance he would get it. "Ray I'm leaving this apartment with you
or with out you. Take your pick." It was the edge in his voice that
surprised Ray. "Benton? you okay?" "Ray, I'm tired of trying to remember
something I just can't remember. I need to get my mind off of things okay?
Geez" Ray stretched and thought. Sure. They could go around Chicago. Hey,
it may even help Fraser remember stuff. He sighed. "Okay let's go." He
grabbed Benton's leather jacket, and his own and grabbed his shoes and
keys. Fraser grinned. Awesome! Finally he could invest in something other
than his red serge... red...serge. All of a sudden a flash of memory went
off in his head. "Ray, my uniform - it was red, right? Red serge?" Blue
eyes widened and met his own. Please let the memory be coming back. He
smiled a tremulous smile. "Yeah, a very red uniform. It sorta acted like a
big bulls eye for all the bad guys in this city..." Ray trailed off. How
many times had Fraser attracted trouble -- and then gone on to distract
trouble from causing damage. Too many times to count. He shrugged. "Maybe
my memory is coming back, eh Ray?" Benton smiled at Ray, wishing that the
blonde in front of him would smile again. "Yeah, maybe." With that
uninspiring comment the two men headed out the door. 

 *********************************************************

 The first place the two men went to was the consulate. Truth be told, he
was hoping that with more red uniforms, Ben's memory would come flooding
back. No such luck, however. The only thing that Ben seemed interested in
was the hustle and bustle. For the rest, Fraser was ready to leave as soon
as he stepped in the door. When Ray took him to his bedroom slash office,
Benton visibly shuddered. "I slept here? No way. There's no way! It's a
sheet and a pillow on a hard wood floor. How could I possibly sleep
here?!" Another memory flashed in his mind. "I had an apartment - at one
point, and it had a mattress...why on earth would I choose to sleep in an
office?" Ray sighed. He agreed actually. He never did understand why his
mountie friend insisted on sleeping at the consulate. Hey wait... He met
Benton's grey blue eyes with his own. "you remember that?" "vaguely" was
Benton's reply. "D'you remember anything else?" the detective was getting
impatient now. "Nope, sorry, all out!" was Ben's unusually cheeky reply. 

 The two men headed to Inspector Thatcher's office. "Sergeant Thatcher,
Since Ben's lost his memory, could you do a little refresher again?" Meg
Thatcher sighed. Two years ago, maybe she could have helped her constable
recover some memories. Now, however, she was sure she couldn't evoke the
same response. "May I have a moment with the Constable, please Ray?"
Throwing her a suspicious look, Ray ducked out of the room. 

 "Fraser, do you remember being kidnapped and tied to me? YOu asked me
what my perfume was, and I told you I didn't wear any..." Fraser raised
his eyebrow at her, in surprise. "Uh,no. Actually I don't. What happened?"
Thatcher told him an abbreviated version of the story, ending in the catch
of the felon. Fraser scrunched his face up looking at the moment more like
a confused little boy than an almost forty year old man. "We kissed? Why?"
he suddenly sputtered. Thatcher caught herself feeling a little taken
aback and let herself defrost a little, so to speak. "Fraser it was
adrenaline I'm sure. We're both attractive people and we were in a highly
charged situation..." she trailed off. She had known this was not going to
be a good situation. 

 Of course, the situation got worse as the comment "But still. You're a
female!" was surprised out of Fraser's mouth. There was a pause and then
there was a shocked noise that she was embarrassed to find out came from
her mouth. Fraser blushed. "Oh Shit. Did I get me fired?" he asked
haltingly, watching her reaction closely. "No Constable. I assure you that
Canada is very open minded. But might I advise you to keep that part of
you under wraps. There will be some people with difficulty with the
situation, as well as the fact that I'm not entirely sure that you knew
that yourself, before the accident. "Really?" he said with an incredulous
expression. "Really." Meg Thatcher answered dryly. "Now, if you don't
mind, I have some official business to attend to, and though you were
excellent at your job, you're useless to me right now. Come back to me
when you have your memory back." A half smile and silly shooing gesture
softened her harsh words, and Fraser turned and left to go find Ray. The
information that she had imparted had truly bothered him. How the hell had
he been so deeply closeted? He began to see why his memories had taken a
hike. 

 Fraser found Ray speaking to another mountie and was instantly jealous of
the small show of camaraderie Ray showed the blonde man. However when the
blonde constable looked at him with adoring eyes, he was thrown off.
"Constable Fraser? My name is Constable Turnbull. You're my commanding
officer. How are you feeling today?" he said earnestly. "Hi Turnbull. I'm
okay. My memories haven't all flooded back yet, but I think they'll come
back eventually." Fraser replied kindly. He wasn't sure, but he thought
maybe this Turnbull fellow had a small crush on him. Great. Just perfect.
The Turnbull guy looked thrilled with his response. "Oh excellent! I was
very worried. Well I hear that you and Ray are going to lunch, bon appetit
mes amis" Not really knowing what to say, aside from a quick "au revoir",
Ben then cocked his eyebrow at Ray and then nodded to the door. The two
men exited together with one last amused look at Turnbull.

 ********************************************************

 The two men went to lunch next and though he tried, Fraser could remember
nothing, even amidst the obscure stories of cemeteries, dirty politicians
and crazy women who named themselves after famous actresses. Obviously
frustrated and also now done with his food, Ray was at his wits end. "I
need to go home. I can't deal with this anymore." For all of his lost
memories, Fraser wasn't stupid. What had gone unspoken - barely - was that
what Ray couldn't deal with was Fraser. The tight reign he had on his
emotions finally snapped. "Fine Ray. You obviously don't want me around so
I'm going to get out of your face. Fuck!" He had to get out of there
before he said anything else. The guilt he felt at leaving Ray with the
bill vanished when he heard Ray yell out "wait, Benton, come back!"
Dammit. That bloody name again. Benton-fucking-Fraser. Not Frase, not
benny, not Ben but the most formal of his name. Benton. Grrr. He needed to
get away. 

 After leaving Ray at the Restaurant, Ben started walking. Anywhere. He
felt alone, but he felt he could be more sure of who he was away from Ray
right now, and he was tired of the condemnation he felt every time he did
something that wasn't "Frayse" He felt sure that who he was now was a part
of the old Fraser that had simply been sublimated for so long, that he had
become someone else. He just had a gut feeling about this, yet it felt
right.

 As he walked and thought, he looked around him, taking little notice
until he realized he was heading downtown. He must've been walking for
hours. He seemed to be going in the direction of the shopping district. He
smirked. Well hell, if Ray was going to make a distinction between Frayse
before and Benton after, he might as well make it as clear as possible.
Maybe he should update his wardrobe. Why not? It wasn't like he knew what
he was saving for...He might as well. 

 He entered the first men's store he saw. It seemed more for older men,
gauging from the average age of the customers and the conservative suits
and sweaters hanging. He didn't feel like he was that conservative, so he
left and kept going. The next store was obviously for people of a more
adventurous personality. There was no way he was going to wear animal
print anything. Except maybe underwear. Two disappointments, but still, he
persevered...he really needed new pants that didn't cut off his
circulation. After passing a few more places, he finally found a decent
store. He walked in a mountie stuck in the eighties, but, a couple of
pairs of pants, some new shoes, socks, underwear and some new shirts
later, he came out a model. Well at least, that's what the store employee
kept telling him. Although the guy did tell him to get a haircut. He
looked around for the place the cute employee referred him to. Ah, there
it was up a ways. Les Hommes Fatale. Thank goodness. He really needed
somewhere to set his bags and bags of new clothing down. 

 Upon entering Fraser found himself surrounded by people pawing at his
hair. It was almost as bad as the hospital. One of the hottest men he had
ever laid eyes on, began speaking to him in a gorgeous English accent.
"Hi, are you the guy that Jack sent over? You've got great hair....amongst
other things." the man added, with a quick perusal of his body. "My name
is Drake. I will be the one doing your hair." The blonde put a particular
emphasis on the word I, and suddenly all other hands left him. Weird. He
followed Drake to a chair. "What are you going to do to me?" Drake grinned
a very wolfish grin and replied, "Anything you let me do, luv -- But as
for your hair, I'm going to put in some highlights, Shape it a bit, and
add some molding paste." The dark haired man shrugged. "I have no clue
what that means, so I'm just going to go along with it okay? Just kill the
military look. It was a bad choice of Be- uh mine." Drake smirked. "Last
boyfriend a git? Seems like at the very least he was just a little to into
the role-playing." "Yeah you could say that" Benton responded, realizing
his mishap. He shook his head. He was Ben. Benton was him. And he had to
remember. Drake looked at him sharply, shrugged, figuring it wasn't
important and then said "Okay, let's get started." with a grin, then
turned the chair away from the mirror. 

 A wash, some highlights and a cut later, the ex-mountie was ready to see
the final product. He looked. There were warm highlights all over, some
lighter than others, and his hair was messily styled. It sort of looked
like he had just come out of bed. Stylishly gotten out of bed, of course.
Overall, he liked it. And he decided something else, after paying for the
haircut. "Hey Drake? What are you doing tonight?" he asked, hoping the
vibes he had gotten, weren't wrong...but then again, this was a hair
salon. OH well, what's the worst thing that could happen...Aside from
humiliating rejection...his mind quickly supplied. He turned around again
and started to leave the store. Better to not even hear the dismissal.
"Benton, you git, I'm going out with you." A bright smile lit on his face,
and the men made plans to meet later. 

 Fraser decided it was time to return home. Not only had he discovered a
distinct taste for shopping that meant he had to stop before it took over,
he was also worried about Ray. He took a cab home, walked up the apartment
steps and then unlocked the door. He had about two hours until Drake was
going to pick him up so he needed to take a shower, talk to Ray, and get
ready. Since Ray was already in the Kitchen, he decided to get ready
first. Honestly, he just didn't want to deal with the blonde detective now
that he knew he was safe and sound. He showered, and grabbed a pair of
faded jeans and deep navy sweater and a white collared shirt which would
show at the neck and sleeves, he did his hair and threw on his socks. Only
then did he brave the rest of the apartment. 

 "So where've you been?" Ray started, not even bothering to turn around.
"Around" Ben responded vaguely. Ray turned and gaped. Holy Fuck. Benton
looked sexy as hell. It wasn't fair. He wasn't quite sure why, but it
wasn't. Benton was dressed incredibly well. Why would he dress so well? Oh
fuck. "You have a date or something, Benton?" Ray hoped that he was wrong
-- he had to be wrong. Frayse didn't date. Please let him be wrong. Of
course this being one of the few time he truly wanted to be wrong, it was
gonna be the time he was right. "Yeah, I have a date. He's picking me up
at nine." Fraser explained, He just wanted to get this over with. Let the
accusations of not being *insert adjective pertaining to Frayze here*
enough, begin. He noticed Ray's back stiffen and braced himself for the
barrage of comments that would surely be coming. 

 Ray was in shock. Did Benton just says "he's" or was that just his
imagination playing cruel games with him. He replayed the conversation in
his head. No, it was said. Fate was a cruel fucking bitch. He had held
back his feelings for his partner for the last 4 years because he was sure
Frayse was straight. Four fucking years. Now Benton, the person who was
and wasn't his Frayse not only had a date, but had a date with a man?
Somebody up there had a fucked up sense of humour. And he wasn't laughing.


 He stiffly walked over to the couch and turned on the TV. Why was Benton
still looking at him? Oh, he was waiting for a response. Well he'd have to
wait, because Ray would be saving that for the second after he left the
apartment. His reaction would involve a bottle of Jack Daniels and some
ice. And maybe some aspirin later. The only thing his throat would let him
croak was an ironic "Ah". Yup. Benton-freakin'-Fraser received a
non-committal "Ah" from Ray. The mountie was thrown by that. He decided to
retreat to the kitchen to regain his sense of balance while he waited for
his date. 

 He read through some car magazines until he heard the apartment door
being knocked on. "How the fuck did your date get up here", Ray spat as he
wrenched open the door. Drake stood there impassively and responded, "I
know the landlady. She gets her hair done at the salon." He looked around
the defeated blonde, and called out "Ben, are you ready?" A quiet "Yeah,
let's go -- Ray I'll be home later.", a distracted wave, and Benton was
out the door. Before the door was even back into place, Ray had an open
bottle in his hand. Fuck the old mountie. Fuck Benton. Fuck Fraser. Fuck
Stanley Ray Kowalski. And fuck love.

 ********************************************* 

 Within the first hour of the date, Drake and Fraser quickly discovered
that they had little to nothing in common. Drake was caught up in the jet
set and the beautiful. He came from money and owned the salon for fun and
for connections. His reasons for the date also clearly differed from
Fraser's. Ben wanted to get out to take up some of the restless time he
spent in thought. Draco just wanted a good fuck. 

 After a few stunted attempts at conversation over dinner they mutually
decided that maybe some drinks and dancing would be a good idea -- At
least it would mean that they wouldn't have to talk. They walked a couple
of blocks, and soon arrived at a place called the Bacchanalia, located
just down the street. After a couple of songs where Drake was moving too
close and Fraser was trying to extricate himself unobtrusively, they
decided to go outside for a breather. "Hey Ben, why don't we just go to my
place..." "and do what?" The brunette asked, rather naively. Drake raised
his eyebrow rakishly, and pulled Fraser close to whisper, "Do you really
have to ask?" and then kissed him forcefully. Ben felt a surge of lust
coil low in his belly and kissed back, but something niggled at the back
of the brain. Something that sounded an awful lot like Ray's voice telling
him that this wasn't the wisest move. 

 Drake maneuvered them to the alley next to the club and pushed Fraser
against the wall. One hand went to the new Kenneth Cole belt and the other
curved over the brunette's ass. "Let me show you what's in store." Drake
said with a sultry smile and in seconds he had Ben's pants open and was
deep throating him. It was something the blond excelled at and within
seconds Ben couldn't help himself, he started thrusting. Hot damn, didn't
Drake have to breathe? he though to himself, and then when he felt Drake's
throat tighten around him over and over, his last coherent thought before
coming was, "apparently not." He threw his head back with the force of the
orgasm. After spitting, Drake stood up with a flourish. "And that's just
the beginning" and he leaned in with a smile worthy of a shark, and kissed
Ben again. 

 This time, Ben was less responsive. He recognized the smile on Drake's
face. He felt ill. He wasn't like this. The last person to smile at him
like that during sex was Victoria, and he was too stupid back then to
recognize that what she felt for him wasn't love, it was a combination of
lust and predatory possession. And holy fuck where did that come from. He
looked at Drake, who stood there confused. "Drake, I had a fine time, but
I really must go." Fraser said. Drake was floored. "What? I just gave you
the best blowjob of your life, and you're gonna go? Fat fucking chance, I,
at least, want to get something back!" and he grabbed Ben and forced
another kiss out of him. But this time Ben was really not kissing back.
Fuck. He wasn't into total domination. "Forget this. You're cute, but I
want a willing body." With that, the blonde turned on his heel and walked
back into the bar without looking back. Fraser followed at a distance
wanting to explain; he felt like he should apologize which was something
awfully "frayserish". He searched the crowd and found Drake wrapped around
another black haired man, thought to himself "man that guy has a type" and
decided to get out of there. Drake was fine. Now he needed to go
somewhere, get some coffee and figure out if his memory had completely
come back and if he himself was fine. 

 He decided to walk to a local cafe called Beckett's Beanery, a little
coffee shop around the corner from the bar he had ran away from. He walked
in, ordered a coffee and sat down. Okay. He remembered Victoria and the
real Ray Vecchio. He remembered dressing as a woman, and meeting the new
Ray. All of his memories began flooding back, the good and the bad.
Unfortunately, his defenses were down, and the emotions that he had long
denied and forgotten overcame his walls not unlike a tidal wave would
break over a sand castle. He rushed to the small bathroom to throw up
until nothing of his dinner was left. And then he retched again. Finally
his stomach quieted. He vaguely heard someone ask him if he was okay.
Through his tears he looked up into the kind eyes of an elderly waitress.
All she said was "Sshh. Just let it out" and rubbed his back like a mother
would her child. It would've been embarrassing had he been even a little
coherent. But something in his mind snapped. He decided to go for broke.
Nothing could really humiliate him anymore You really couldn't get any
lower than the fact that he had just gotten blown in an alleyway by some
asshole who didn't really care about him. So he let it all out. All of it.
Even his blackest emotions, the rejection and guilt he felt over the whole
Victoria thing...he let out until he thought he was done. But he wasn't.
The anger he felt at his father for not protecting him and his mother, was
when his tears finally turned almost brutal. He smacked his open hand on
the wall in bitterness of the fact that he had lost a fuck of a lot of his
childhood in his futile attempt to be something his father would be proud
of. He gripped the railing with the despair that the knowledge that he had
sublimated his true desires for 20 some odd years in order to fit into a
mold that the people around him could relate to. The "amazing mountie".
The man who "knew" everything but felt nothing. Except the insanity of his
emotions for Victoria. Which he know knew was some sort of oedipal thing.
She did look remarkably like his mother. Was that what his father was
trying to tell him? 

 He recalled feeling like the outsider as a child, as a teenager, and
later as an adult. He wept for the loneliness he felt all through life. He
couldn't remember a single time in his life that he didn't feel like that.
But he knew that wasn't quite true. Ray had accepted him. His quirks, and
the times he let his humour and affection show through. Oh fuck. Ray. An
ache in his stomach started once more. Ray. Ray who he had just left at
home while he was on some "date" with a stranger. Ray who had woke him up
in the hospital with those nimble fingers carding through his own dark
hair. Who had stood with him against the entire Vecchio clan and the
country of Canada and taken him home, to his apartment. Ray, the man who
looked like he was dying as he left the apartment with Drake. 

 Oh fuck. 

 Fraser retched again through the tears. "Please don't let me have lost
him, before I could find him" he thought to himself irrationally. He wiped
his eyes, looked around and saw that the bathroom was still empty except
for the strange old waitress who was beside him. She handed him some cool
wet paper towels and finally spoke again. "Ben, please don't be
embarrassed. I was a mother once upon a time, it's okay. You are loved.
You need to go home now. Go talk to Ray, and maybe sign up for a gym
membership to get all that anger out." she said with a rather recognizable
quirky smile that curled up more on one side of her lips. "Talk to a
therapist. But know that you are loved. You've been good to the world. Now
you must be good to yourself." 

 She got up, and with a surprising strength reached down and pulled him to
his feet and into a gentle embrace. She turned and walked out of the
bathroom with a last kind smile. He went to the mirrors, washed his face,
straightened his clothes out and checked for his wallet. Oh good, still
there. 

 He left the bathroom and went to the table he had occupied, grabbed his
cup and brought it to the counter. "There was an older waitress who I was
speaking to, earlier -- is she still here?" he asked, wanting to thank the
woman for her kindness. The young girl giggled nervously. "The oldest
person who works here is Keith here, the guy behind me. He's 35. All the
females in this place are young." She leaned forward and quietly added,
"My boss says it's good for business, but I just think it's stupid."
Fraser smiled as nicely as possible, considering his level of confusion,
and extricated himself from the conversation with a wave and a "Thanks for
the info. and the coffee." and walked outside towards a line of cabs that
were waiting for people to get out of the local theatre. He grabbed one
and told the driver directions to Ray's place. That woman...he shook his
head. The important thing here was that he get home to Ray He had been
away from Ray five of the longest hours of his life. Two on a bad date and
three crying in a bathroom in a coffee shop. He needed to get back. 

 23 minutes later he was bounding through the door, more content than he'd
been in years. Honestly, maybe ever. Where was Ray, anyways? He looked
around and his first clue that all was not well was the overarching smell
of alcohol. The next clue was probably the empty bottle of JD. The third
and final clue was the puddle of Ray he found on the bathroom floor. Fuck.
Okay. He made sure Ray was breathing regularly, and that he wasn't
choking. The blonde detective appeared to be passed out, asleep but fine.
Thank goodness. It looked like whatever had come up already was going to
be it. He gently picked up Ray and carried him to his bed, wiping his face
and gently tucking him in. This was the man he loved. Every line of his
face, every hair on his head, he loved it all. If he was truly lucky, Ray
would return his feelings. If he wasn't, he'd spend as long as it took to
convince Ray of the fact, he thought fiercely. 

 He pulled a chair up to the bed, sort of a role reversal for them, and
carded his hands through Ray's hair. It was surprisingly soft for the fact
that he dyed it, not like his own, which was like animal pelt. He leaned
down and softly touched his lips to Ray's forehead. He thought about the
past five hours. In hindsight, it was obvious what Drake had wanted, but
aside from the phenomenal blow job, there wasn't anything there, and he
even felt wretched about that. He couldn't believe that he hadn't realized
his feelings for men along time ago. Franny should be glad she never
married him -- it would have ended very very badly. And as for Victoria?
well she was pretty masculine when it came to sex. Still he was glad it
hadn't worked out for either of them. 

 As he thought about losing his memories, and then getting them back, he
realized that truly he wasn't the old Frayze, but nor was he the new
Benton. He was sort of in between. He was Ben. And yes he like the rules
when they were needed, but probably needed to think a little bit harder on
deciding when they were truly essential. Not all the time, that's for
sure. And for heaven's sakes, women threw themselves at him all the time,
but that didn't mean he had to dress a decade in the past. He just needed
a wedding ring. Even if it was fake. He hoped within the year it wouldn't
be. And he was still pretty intellectual, and a bit of a prude. Sex in a
back alley was just not appealing for any reason. But he felt that
sometimes maybe a cuss word here or there wasn't such a bad thing. It was
all very much about moderation. With that thought, he fell asleep with his
fingers in Ray's hair and many things on his mind. 

 When Ray came to, it was with an awful sense of displacement. The last
thing he remembered was the bathroom floor and the toilet. He was now in
his bed, and someone's fingers were in his hair. He had a pounding
headache, and he tasted film on his teeth and tongue. Oh, and he had to
piss like a racehorse. He fully opened his eyes and looked over to Fraser.
What was he doing here? didn't he have that date with the hot blonde? OH
please don't let him be here, Ray begged someone, anyone, any Power out
there. He gently removed the hand from his head and got up to go to the
bathroom, to brush his teeth and to take some Tylenol. When he came back,
Fraser was staring at the empty bed with watery eyes. "Hey Benton, what's
up?" Ray said carefully. Something was going on with Fraser, and he didn't
know what. 

 "Ben. It's Ben. Not Benton -- I've always hated that name, and not
Frayze, and not Benny. Ben, my name's Ben" he finished quietly. Ray's eyes
went wide with shock. "You've got your memory back? So no pod person?" Ray
looked so happy that Ben began to feel worse. What if Ray didn't accept
him as Ben, as flawed? "Ray, I'm not the same Frayze you remember. First
off, I'm gay. Secondly, I swear when I feel it's necessary. I like a good
beer, I think. And I'm not always polite. And I hate being a walking
textbook. I'm not perfect. I don't even really want to be a mountie." Here
Ray interjected with a quick," And you wear pants that are the right size"
but Ben continued, "and I'm sick of women ogling my ass, and I like my new
clothes, even though it sets me back on saving for that home I've been
looking for." And before he lost his courage, he whispered, "...And I am
totally in love with you," and quickly glanced up at Ray and then looked
back down. 

 The room went quiet for quite a long bit and then the dark haired man
felt the need to cut the silence. "It's okay Ray. If you don't love me
back, it's okay. Well, I mean, I'll get out of here, out of your hair.
I'll go back to the Canadian Consulate until my official resignation gets
posted. But it's okay. Yeah. It's okay. I'll be okay." He stood up and
turned to walk out but was pulled back by a quiet voice. "Ben, what was
that date about then? I know you were gone until early this morning. I
mean, how can you love me but sleep with someone else? God, seeing you
leave with Stella's old hairdresser killed me. Drake was such a play boy.
He had notches in his hair brush, for fuck's sake. And then you two leave
together - you looking like that, and him looking like he always does.
What does all of that mean?" Ray finished, his voice rough with unshed
tears.

 "Ray, I was angry that you didn't accept me for me when I was Benton --
in fact, it's something that still worries me. What if you don't like me
-- the Ben me? Anyways, Drake wanted me just like me. Granted it was just
for sex, but I didn't realize that until he tried to seduce me in the
alleyway beside the club we went to. And then he looked at me like I was
-- what was that you said --like another notch. And memories of Victoria
came back, and all of my other memories flooded back. I indicated that it
would probably be beneficial for him to find someone else, since I was
certainly not interested, realizing by now that a certain blonde haired
detective had my heart, my soul, and rights to anything else he wanted. I
then went to a coffee shop where I proceeded to break down. Do you want
the details of that Ray, because I'll tell you anything to prove that I
love you." Here, the man paused to collect himself. Apparently Ray wanted
him to go on, if the silence was any indication. 

 "Fine. I sobbed and raged for about 3 hours, was comforted by what I know
believe to be the ghost of my mother which is fanfuckingtastic, let me
tell you," he added sarcastically, "and I then came back here, found you
passed out, and put you to bed. And here we are." Ben met Ray's eyes and
was happy to find something other than anger and sadness in them. Maybe
curiosity, maybe hope. 

 Ray spoke, trying to squash his hope before he got hurt again. "Right.
Yeah. So here we are. Ben, are you sure that you're in love with me?
Because if you're not, I can't do this. My feelings are already pretty
deep -- any deeper and we're talking past the point of Stella." "Ray, If
you could only see. If you could only feel the emotions I feel when I'm
simply in the same room as you." Finally Ben had the courage to look Ray
in the eyes. He let everything show. And then, Ray understood. Ray saw and
felt the love and just knew that they would be together. "I get it." The
blonde took a step towards Fraser, held out his hand, and waited for the
other man to take it. They entwined their fingers together. "So what now?"
Ben whispered softly as he gently pulled Ray into his embrace. "Can I kiss
you?" Ray's "Oh Fuck yes, finally" was swallowed as his lips met Ben's.
Their mouths opened to each other simultaneously trying to taste each
other. Ben groaned, realizing that this didn't hold a candle to the dark
love he had had in the past with women. This was simple and right. Ray
reached his hand to the nape of Ben's neck and slid his fingers into his
hair. Who knew...who knew that this would feel like home right away? 

 Ray broke off the kiss to breathe. " I lied Ben. You're already more than
Stella. I love you so much" Ben coloured with delight and softly brushed
his knuckles across Ray's cut cheekbones. "My love" he said quietly and
kissed Ray again. Ben and Ray. It was finally right.  
  

End Becoming Ben by wordwench 

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