Geometry: Chapter 6, Phone Calls & Dancing	The Due South Fiction
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      	  Geometry: Chapter 6, Phone Calls & Dancing 
 by Diefs Girl	

 Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just play with 'em and hand 'em back, none
the worse for wear.

 Author's Notes: FYI: Two chapters this week, enjoy!

 Story Notes: Highlander/due South crossover, with a cameo here and there
from Hellboy.

 SequelTo: Geometry: Chapter 5, Hockey, Backrubs & Sleepovers

 

 Wednesday evening, Marina glanced at a clock, calculated time changes and
decided it was close enough. It would be three hours earlier on the west
coast; Joe would probably be home for the night but awake. Standing in
front of her parting gift from Duncan and Connor, a portrait of the three
of them among the ruins of Castle MacLeod, she put her hand up on the wall
just to the right of the portrait and a square of red light lit up. A
brighter red line scanned down her palm and inspected her palm print and
thermo-graphic signature. The back of the portrait made a sharp 'snick'
sound, and the right edge of the portrait popped forward a few
centimeters. 

 Marina tugged it open effortlessly, and as the portrait swung out without
a sound, she tapped a sixteen-digit string into the small keypad set in
the face of the safe in the wall. The safe door was three feet square, and
save for the keypad, painted the same shade as the wall. Once it swung
slowly open on pneumatic hinges supporting the weight of the door, Marina
reached into the satin-lined interior. She had to reach past dozens of
flat velvet and leather jewel cases of various sizes stacked on the bottom
of the safe, but what she wanted occupied a modern cell phone charger
sitting on the shelves at the very back. Two cell phones, small and sleek
in metallic blue and green, sat in the charger.

 Marina picked up the green one and flipped it open. The first name on the
speed dial was Joe Dawson. She smiled and pressed enter. The little
ringing phone logo scurried across the screen, turned into a fox, tweaked
its tail at her and winked before vanishing in a puff of smoke. She
grinned. Methos hand-built these cell phones from parts and programmed
them himself -and seven others just like them, three blue and four green,
differing only in color and network link- to connect himself, Marina,
Duncan, Connor and Joe, in two separate networks.

 Joe only had one green phone, but must have deduced that Methos and the
other Immortals would have a separate communications link from one shared
with a Watcher, no matter how well-loved a Watcher. Both the Watcher's
Guilds had proven too unstable and rife with corruption in the last
century. But for this she needed access to the Guild's records, so it was
to Joe she would go. Not Methos, much as she longed to. Joe had to know
they supported him as leader of the Watchers. Their support was
instrumental in maintaining his position as head of the council.

 A coalition of Immortals banding together -bound by love and not power-
had not gone unnoticed. Several factions were uneasy at the implications;
a few thought the possibility that Immortals would refuse to kill each
other out of love might conceivably mean the One attaining power could be
put off indefinitely. After all, one of the lovers was Methos, the
legendary Immortal older than civilization itself. And the other three
were MacLeods -Highlanders- a name spoken with a curse by every evil
Immortal walking the earth today. That strength was enabling Joe to hold
the fragmented Guild together while the traitors in their ranks were
weeded out.

 The phone on the other end was still ringing and eventually clicked off,
but Marina waited patiently. While she was sure Joe would have his phone
locked up as tightly as hers was, she was equally sure he would have a
ring alarm on it forwarded to his regular cell phone.

 Deciding she might as well indulge her favorite comfort ritual, she
tossed the phone on the bed. Shrugging out of her day clothes gratefully,
Mina padded naked over to her immense teak wood dresser and rummaged
through the drawers of silk nightwear. An eternal sentimentalist, Duncan
was inordinately fond of buying extravagant, gorgeous nightgowns like
those he remembered from various periods of history and leaving them
casually draped on the end of their bed for her to discover when she'd get
out of the shower. After she, Duncan and Methos became lovers, Marina got
into the habit of wearing them with the jewelry Methos had been unearthing
from his various hoards and giving to her at irregular intervals. Of
course more often than not, just wearing them resulted in Duncan's present
being peeled gently off her body while they kissed skin sparkled with
light from Methos' glittering gifts.

 In the days of their exile, that delightful denouement was not possible,
but Marina found it strangely comforting to indulge in wearing one of
Duncan and Methos' gifts together and thinking of them during her nightly
sword practice. She felt so surrounded by their presence, so wrapped in
their love. It was one of the few times their memories brought comfort
instead of tears. She cherished it all the more for that. And what harm
did it do to play dress-up for her weapons practice? A silly, sentimental,
harmless child's game. And it certainly got her used to fighting in
clothing not strictly conducive to swordplay.

 So what to wear tonight, when she would get first-hand news of her lost
loves? It was oppressively hot, but the wind was blowing fresh and clean
right off the lake so she'd killed the AC, opened all the windows and
turned off almost all the lights, shrouding the apartment in twilight
dimness. Incense sticks smoldering around the rooms scented the air with a
faint, spicy tang.

 Her hands strayed over a breathy confection of feather-light midnight
blue Indian silk embroidered with gold stars and moons, the top a single
scarf of wispy midnight silk that looped over her breasts and tied behind
her neck, the two lengths of rippling silk dangling down her back. The
pants were filmy panels of more silk bound to an embroidered waistband and
blue silk ankle ribbons that were open on the sides, letting the long
muscles of her legs show. It had been Methos' all-time favorite since he
caught her practicing sword drills in it one evening and after dueling her
to a standstill, peeled it off with exquisite slowness and made love to
her for half the night.

 A month later he'd disappeared for a weekend and returned with another
cache dug up in the Carpathians. Methos spent three days cleaning them all
with the meticulous care of an archeologist, then draped her in a king's
ransom in jewels that hadn't seen the light of day since the Ottoman
Empire ruled the known world. The crowning glory had been a set of
sapphires fashioned into a temple dancer's ceremonial garb, dozens of
perfect, deep blue sapphires set in ornate gold and brilliant blue-green
enamel. The set contained a belt, two anklets, two bracelets, a necklace,
two earrings, half a dozen toe and finger rings, and two armlets designed
to be worn around her biceps. Completing the set were half a dozen strands
of tiny, glittering sapphires strung on gold chains for her hair.

 The first time she wore the set with Duncan's midnight silks, Methos
spent an hour braiding and twisting her hair up into a temple dancer's
style while enthralling her with tales of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon
at their height, then taught her a Oriental courtesan's dance of seduction
lost to history for thousands of years. It worked, by the time she'd
mastered the dance and spun through its slow cadences, Methos and Duncan
drew her down onto their bed and loved her until dawn. And that was
something else she'd lost. Methos and Duncan loved to see her dance, would
spend endless hours watching her practice, and in bitter grief she hadn't
danced a step since her exile. Perhaps -this once- she'd skip sword
practice tonight and dance instead. Maybe this was a good night to
practice those languid sensual movements and reclaim another part of her
life sorrow took away.

 Taken with the happy whimsy, she showered quickly with Methos' favorite
scented soap, the one that smelled of lavender, roses, violets and musk.
Listening for the phone the whole time, she dried off, slipped into the
midnight silks and removed two long, rectangular navy-blue velvet jewel
boxes from the open safe. Opening the box that held the belt and hair
strands, she sat down at her dressing table to braid up her hair. She
wasn't as handy as Methos at it. He had so many odd, wonderful skills
hidden away in those long, graceful hands; but since she had an entire
evening and night to kill, she took her time about it and when she was
done even he would have approved of the result.

 And now for her favorite part... Mina loved -adored- jewelry; it was her
one secret vice. The more old, gorgeous, and ornate the better, and once
Methos had ferreted that secret out he'd gone on a positive quest to feed
that secret love. And just as icing on the cake, whenever he brought her a
new piece, Methos would regale her with the tale of how he'd acquired it.
She hadn't realized how many centuries he'd spent being a pirate and a
mercenary... and for all those millennia he'd been burying his loot in
caches halfway up some bleak Carpathian mountainside smack in the middle
of nowhere. He'd been unearthing the caches to match the lovely nightgowns
Duncan bought, but Marina got the feeling half the time he'd practically
forgotten what he'd buried, and was as surprised as she was at what
emerged from those ancient hiding places.

 As a result she had a jewelry collection unrivalled in the entire world
save perhaps for the Royal Treasury of the Kings of Great Britain.
Gorgeous pieces from Egypt, Babylon, Rome, Carthage, Troy, Crete and
Athens; glittering relics of a dozen Chinese dynasties; gold and gems
looted from Spanish trade ships during the height of the Empire; the booty
from several Crusades fought -amusingly enough- on both sides; and last
but not least a bewildering variety of magnificent gem encrusted pieces
from India dating back before the Mongol Empire and the building of the
Taj Mahal.

 To Marina's utter shock she'd found out Methos did most of the
engineering calculations for the Taj during its 22-year construction, and
been paid very, very well by the grateful Shah for ensuring his memorial
to his dead wife would stand forever. Indeed, part of the payment for his
services had been the Princess's favorite set of fire opals, gems the size
of hazelnuts and breathtakingly beautiful. Methos told her and Duncan the
story one night as they sprawled naked in bed after a long, lazy bout of
sex, while the fire opals glistened around her neck in the moonlit
darkness.

 She and Duncan were enraptured by the tale, and not long after that they
paid a month-long visit to India, staying at a hotel that had a view of
the Taj Mahal. She'd worn the jewels of a Mongol Princess while making
love in the shadow of one of the Seven Wonders of the world- a building
one of those lovers helped design. Every so often being an Immortal was a
fairy-tale come true. It helped make up for the endless sorrows that came
with living forever.

 But for now, ancient Turkish jewels would adorn her skin while she moved
through a dance lost millennia before, until resurrected from the mists of
time by Methos' memory for love of her. Was it any wonder she loved him
and Duncan so much it had torn her to pieces being separated? And yet
those wounds were finally healing, at long last, helped along all
unknowing by Dief, Ben and Ray. Who, if her scarred psyche wasn't playing
tricks, might be interested in forming a troika all their own. And how
wonderful would that be? Of course, she might very well be imagining the
whole thing, but then again, maybe not... and it wasn't like daydreams
hurt anyone. Dreams were all that got her through any more.

 She opened the second jewel box and started with the earrings, threading
the archaic hooks through her modern pierced ears, slipped the armlets
over her biceps and the bracelets over her wrists, donning finger and
toe-rings, and the anklets last. Standing up, she settled the belt around
her waist, adjusting it to drape over the embroidered waistband without
snagging the delicate silk threads and as she was admiring the reflection
in the full-length mirror in her bedroom, the green cell phone rang.

 Delighted, she leaped for the bed and landed in the middle of the
lavender bedspread with a giggle. She punched the call button and chirped
cheerfully, "Hi Joe!"

 A moment of surprise greeted her from the other end of the line. "You
sound happy," Joe told her, like he was braced for tears and off balance
by not getting them.

 "I'm playing dress-up," she confided, pulling a pillow over and tucking
it behind her head so she could lounge in comfort. Joe laughed out loud;
her previous Watcher captured her on film several times indulging in her
hobby, and she knew for a fact one of those very pictures rested in a
silver frame on Joe's desk.

 "You must be feeling better."

 She sighed wistfully. "Am I less of a complete wreck, you mean? Yeah,
finally, and you can tell the others I'm doing better when they ask. How
are they?"

 Joe's voice softened. "Fine, all three. They miss you terribly. I haven't
let them see any of the pictures taken in the last year so they don't know
how thin you are. Have you started eating yet?"

 "A little. I made a couple new friends and they're trying to fatten me
up. Not very subtly, but what the heck, subtlety's wasted on me at this
point."

 "The detective and the Mountie?"

 "Pretty unsubtle yourself there, Joe," Marina teased. "You could at least
pretend you don't get a report on me every month."

 "Every week," Joe said unexpectedly. "I'm as worried about you as they
are, Mina." More, probably, since he alone knew how badly Marina was
taking the separation, but he'd never say that. As the youngest of the
Immortals, barely a century old, the separation from her mentor and lovers
was far and away more difficult for her than for Connor, Duncan and
Methos. Joe was much more worried about her than the other three,
especially as in many ways Marina was the link that bound their fragile
alliance together.

 Touched, she smiled. "You're a sweetheart, Joe. I love you."

 Standing over a thousand miles away in his house in Vancouver, Joe sank
down into his favorite easy chair and smiled fondly. "You know you're not
supposed to say things like that to the guy in charge of spying on you."

 "Who cares anymore, Joe? Not me. I kind of like the fact you watch over
me since Duncan and Methos can't."

 Joe shook his head. "You're one of a kind, Mina. Even for a MacLeod."

 "So what else is new? How are things going with the Watchers?"

 "Better, " Joe confided, stretching out his artificial leg and resting it
on the footstool. "We snagged another of the rogue cells and finalized
them all."

 Marina breathed a sigh of relief. "I shouldn't be so happy about people
dying but to hell with it, I am. Every time I think about Darius I want to
murder someone with my bare hands, Joe."

 "I know, baby," Joe said comfortingly. "And I know what it cost you guys
to let me handle the rest of it. Don't think I'm not grateful."

 "We know you need to police your own, Joe."

 And that was enough of that topic, Joe decided. Marina was too sharp and
like all MacLeods, too prone to taking action on her own to risk letting
some bit of information slip. "So you call me for any particular reason or
just needed to hear my voice?"

 "I called for a reason, unfortunately."

 "Unfortunately?"

 "Yeah. Listen to this." Marina related everything she knew about the
murder investigation she'd learned from Ben and Ray, right down to a
meticulous description of the sword now resting in her armory. By the time
she was done, Joe was even more concerned than she was.

 "It's almost got to be an Immortal, Mina. An Old One, too."

 "That's what I thought," she said resignedly. "I took a few pictures of
the saber with my digital camera, I'll email them to you once I get off
the phone. Can you run a check on it and let me know? If I've got a rogue
Immortal in Chicago hacking up the natives, I'm gonna have to take care of
it quickly and quietly before the wrong people start noticing."

 "Agreed," Joe said grimly. "But if this is an Old One you be careful,
Mina. I mean it. Duncan's too fragile from losing Ritchie to lose you,
too."

 "I know, Joe. I'll be careful."

 "Email me those pics and I'll get started on it now. One last thing."

 "Yeah?"

 A minor embarrassed pause. "Is that really a wolf hanging out at your
place nights?"

 "Half-wolf. His name's Diefenbaker. He's my new boyfriend."

 "You're nuts, Mina."

 "Like that's news," she mocked drolly.

 "And the wolf's deaf?"

 "Yup."

 "So how does the Mountie talk to him?"

 "Dief reads lips."

 Another definite pause on the other end of the line, and Joe chuckled.
"One of a kind. Stay safe, baby girl. I love you."

 "I love you too, Joe. Give my love to the others."

 "I will. Bye, Mina."

 "Bye, Joe." She tapped the button to end the call and set the phone down,
depressed. Talking with Joe was too sharp a reminder of what she'd lost.
But she restored the phone to its charger and closed the safe and the
portrait, making her way to the computer setup in her den. She transferred
the pictures she'd snapped of the saber from her digital camera to her
desktop and sent them off to Joe's private email address. He would do the
best he could to run them down for her; the Watcher's Guild disliked
police getting involved in Immortal affairs even more than Immortals did.

 Once that was done, she toyed with the idea of passing on dancing in
favor of sword practice after all, but that would be cowardly. Besides, if
she didn't practice for a decade, she'd be a complete klutz when the time
came to dance for Duncan and Methos. She'd look at it as an extended
practice session, nine years long. Ah, sophistry. Wasn't it wonderful?

 She wandered into the dojo, dithered over appropriate music for several
minutes while stretching before settling on a sweetly sentimental Vivaldi
concerto. As the first few notes sounded, she cleared her mind, raised her
arms above her head... and danced. Half a dozen steps into it, she was
rapt away in delight, lost in the pleasure of the dance, a joy she'd all
but forgotten in her grief.

 * * *

 Tapping the steering wheel as he drove, Ray sang a few bars along with
BTO in the GTO, grinning at Dief in the passenger seat. The wolf's tongue
was lolling out companionably as his tail wagged, and Ray got the
impression Dief liked rock 'n roll as much as Fraser disliked it. Poor ol'
Fraser had been a little miffed at being stuck on duty at the Consulate
with the Ice Queen while he and Dief got to go visit the Doc, but
diplomatic receptions took precedence over murder cases when Thatcher's
bosses came to town, according to her. So Fraser and Turnbull got stuck
playing statue while the canapes circulated, and he and Dief got to visit
Marina.

 Heck, the wolf got to stay the night, as Thatcher exiled him from the
Consulate for the duration of the reception. Ray was going by after the
party and dragging Frase home with him, which Fraser didn't know yet, but
there was no damn way Ray was letting his best friend stay there. Nope.
Not anymore. Fraser wasn't dealing with that dismal, lonely place one more
night if he had anything to say about it, and Ray had plenty to say about
it. Most of it using language that Fraser would scold him for.

 'Course, they were visiting Marina to show her gross pictures of a dead,
mutilated corpse, which was a pretty poor excuse for a visit, but it was
case related, and after last night's heavy-duty conversation with Fraser
about the possibility of trying to start something between them, Ray would
snatch any reason to see Marina again.

 Jeez, he still couldn't believe Frase was into trying a threesome.
Granted, the Mountie was kinda freaked out at the fact he was into it,
which Ray could appreciate, even if he'd had that crisis at seventeen
instead of thirty-seven, but at least Ben was willing to fight past his
inhibitions. It wasn't easy, Ray knew. Some people couldn't do it at all.
It helped Ben hadn't gotten that homo = evil crap indoctrinated into him
from the cradle up, but it was a shock to the system.

 But waking up this morning was a helluva revelation. For starters, Ray
hadn't slept that well since the day Stella tossed him out. Second, he and
Ben woke up wrapped right around each other. Really wrapped around each
other, their lips centimeters apart from a kiss as the alarm shrilled.
Force of habit had Ray rolling over and smacking the snooze alarm
automatically, and as he lolled back on the pillow and tried to organize
his thoughts, two strong arms pulled him gently but inexorably back
against Fraser's chest. Once he was cradled there, Fraser said a perfectly
calm good morning, kissed Ray, and held him for ten minutes until the
alarm went off again, and they'd gotten up and had a pretty normal
morning.

 Fraser made real coffee while Ray was in the shower, and left a cup for
Ray with the requisite six M's in it on the bathroom counter. Fraser got a
second kiss for that when Ray found it. Then he'd dropped Fraser off at
the embassy on his way to work, like a hundred times before. It reassured
Ray they might be able to pull this off long-term if Marina went for the
idea.

 And Ray's hunches were hinting not only would she like it, she might've
tried it before in considerably more depth. His experiences with
three-ways were limited to a few wild nights during Stella's college
years, when she'd been in her own experimental phase. But that was the
two-girls-and-one-guy split, as opposed to the two-guys-and-one-girl split
he and Fraser wanted. Thinking about the geometry of it made his palms
sweat.

 They'd reached the wharf and Ray tooled around looking for a parking
space and getting irritated when he couldn't find one. But the second time
he drove by the entrance to the parking garage under her building, Dief
barked and pawed at the window encouragingly.

 Remembering the wolf's trick with the elevator, Ray eyed the wolf
speculatively. "Can you get us in there?"

 Dief barked once and wagged his tail. Remembering Theresa's trick with
yes and no, Ray took that as an affirmative. He pulled the GTO up to the
parking garage gate and when they got to the card reader, Ray unrolled the
window and Dief tromped right into his lap in his eagerness. Ray yelped
and shielded certain delicate parts of his anatomy from claws he knew from
experience were damn sharp. Dief barked twice, that same short, sharp
cadence, and the gate LED display flashed green and the metal garage door
began rattling up.

 Ray nodded, impressed, and ruffled the wolf's ears appreciatively. "Nice
goin', Dief. Thanks. You know where we should park?" Dief pointed straight
ahead to the very back of the garage and Ray followed the nose. There was
an elevator door near the back parking spots, and parked in one Ray
recognized the blue Jeep he'd seen Marina drive to the precinct the first
time they'd met.

 He parked the GTO next to it in the spot marked 'visitor', grabbed the
file folder with the autopsy pics and held the door for Dief so the wolf
could scramble out. Dief trotted over to the elevator, barked twice and
the door slid right open.

 "You got this place nailed," Ray said, approving. Sure enough the
elevator took them straight up to the top floor, and opened onto the
hallway with the dancing dragons painted on the wall. One dragon was
considerably more complete than he'd been the last time Ray was there and
the paint glistened, damp in places. Lotus must have been by today. Dief
trotted right up to Marina's door, barked twice, shouldered the door open
and went through without breaking stride. Not wanting to barge in without
at least knocking, Ray swore and grabbed for Dief's collar but missed, and
stumbling forward from the momentum ended up inside Marina's apartment
anyway. Defeated, he closed the door behind him and looked around. Most of
the apartment was dark, but a dim light glowed in the hallway that Dief's
tail was disappearing down.

 A sudden hunch nudged at Ray and without stopping to think he followed
Dief, moving quietly down the hallway. Most of the rooms were too dark to
see into, but light glowed faintly from one, and as he got closer Ray
could hear music. He cocked his head and listened. Vivaldi. Marina liked
classical. Dief lay down just outside the lit doorway and watched quietly.
Ray slipped up to the door and peeked through, and his breath stopped in
his chest.

 Marina was... dancing. Alone. Not like Ray danced when he danced alone,
this was something more akin to ballet. That and a modern dance
performance he'd seen once titled 'Sex'. It was frankly sensual, and at
the same time it felt weirdly out of place. Ancient. Like something that
was danced when the Pyramids were new. She was a classics professor, Ray
reminded himself. For all he knew this was a recreation of an ancient
dance form. But it was beautiful, and so was she.

 Ray'd seen a few wild dance costumes before, especially when he hit Mardi
Gras in New Orleans, but what Marina was wearing now gave 'em a good run
for their money. Indigo blue fabric and shiny gold embroidery rippled and
swirled under wild, flashy costume jewelry that glittered and sparkled.
The dangling teardrops -Ray supposed they must be some kind of lead
crystal- swung out in lovely, fluid arcs as she moved. Bracelets glittered
on her wrists and ankles and pretty rings drew an observer's eye back to
her slim, graceful fingers and toes as they moved through the air. But it
was her hair that captivated him, braided up into long flowing coils
strung with tiny shimmering crystals. It flowed the way hair moved under
water, the slow, achingly beautiful motion that fascinated him as much as
water unnerved him.

 Hardly aware of what he was doing, Ray sat down beside Diefenbaker on the
floor and watched, as enraptured as the wolf. He suddenly understood how
his landlady could sit and listen to him dance for hours at a time. He'd
be perfectly happy to sit here for as long as Marina cared to keep moving.
She was slow, languid poetry in motion, beauty of form and movement
perfectly balanced. On some level Ray was aware he ached for her already,
ached to touch, to caress, to kiss, ached to spend hours learning every
curve of that tanned skin, but it was a quiet longing, a sweet hunger that
soothed rather than aroused.

 When the music clicked off Marina stopped, coming to rest in a drooping
pose reminiscent of a dying flower. Dief whimpered unhappily and when
Marina looked over her eyes widened to see Ray sitting beside the wolf.

 "Hi."

 The quiet spell of the music hovered in the air. Ray didn't want to break
it. He stood up slowly, leaving the file folder and his jacket on the
floor and walked over to where she stood.

 "Dief let us in," he said softly. "I didn't want to stop your dance. It
was... beautiful."

 Marina shrugged shyly, indicating she wasn't all that bothered by his
presence.

 Ray refused to think. Thinking would ruin what was happening. He was
operating on pure instinct now, and instinct was telling him Marina wanted
to stay caught in this fragile spell too.

 "Would you dance with me?"

 She smiled -it was like watching the first faint flush of sunrise break-
and nodded. Ray punched play blindly on her stereo and the Vivaldi drifted
out. Ray held out his hands hesitantly and Marina moved against him like
they'd been dancing together forever. Ray eased her into his arms and...
danced. She was a wisp of smoke in his embrace, light as air but warm and
real. Not a dream, or a memory, but alive and happy to be right where she
was. Ray had forgotten what it felt like to hold someone who truly wanted
to be in his arms. Wanted to be nowhere else. Ray laid his cheek against
her hair and let go, drifting in the moment.

 How long they danced Ray couldn't have said, hours certainly. If the
music on the stereo stopped, the music in his head hadn't, and he knew
without asking Marina was hearing it too. Fragments of emotion drifted
over Ray's thoughts without disturbing them. How sweet Marina's skin
smelled, like flowers and something darker. How smooth the bare skin of
her back felt under his fingers. How lovely and soft her hair felt under
his cheek. How sweet her lips tasted- when had they started kissing? He
had no idea. Just that her mouth was under his, they were sharing a breath
of air and it was blindly glorious. Her blue eyes were dark as midnight
and Ray was lost in them. Never wanted to stop dancing. Never wanted to
stop at all.

 His cell phone ringing was such a brutal interruption Ray's arms clamped
around Marina in instinctive protection. Ripped out of their spell, dumped
back into reality like falling into ice-cold water, Marina gasped a ragged
breath and instinctively pressed closer. That one little movement, that
tiny jump into his arms like there was safety there... that was Ray's
undoing. He was in love. Fathoms deep in love. With her. No reason, no
logic, just love, overwhelming everything else.

 Ray realized dimly it was probably Fraser calling but he refused to
release Marina, instead leading her over to where Dief, his jacket and the
forgotten file folder lay. Keeping his arm around her shoulders was so
important. Letting her go was unthinkable. He flipped the phone open and
held it to his ear, cradling Marina against his chest.

 "Vecchio."

 "Ray?"

 "Yeah Frase."

 "You sound... odd."

 "Feel odd."

 "Are you all right, Ray?"

 Ray smiled down at Marina, still reeling inside and at the same time so
calm, so centered. Like his world had a sun again, after drifting in the
darkness for so long.

 "Yeah, Frase, I'm all right. Party over?"

 "The reception has ended, and you did ask me to let you know. I'm sorry
if I interrupted something."

 "Forget it. I'll be by to pick you up in a minute."

 "You don't hav..."

 "Don't argue, Frase. Just this once, don't argue." Ray could feel
Fraser's puzzlement on the other end of the phone.

 "Very well, Ray. If you insist."

 "I do. See ya in a few."

 "Goodbye, Ray."

 "Bye, Frase." He closed the phone and dropped it on his coat. That arm
was so much better put to use by holding Marina close. "Gotta go."

 She nodded. Ray sighed, pressed a kiss on her forehead and forced himself
to let her go, but kept tight hold of one hand. He scooped up coat, phone
and file folder with the other and meandered down the hallway toward her
front door. When they reached the door Ray turned, eased her into his arms
and kissed her, dropping back into that quiet, still place of magic they'd
been floating in while they danced.

 After long, unhurried moments, Ray nuzzled her cheek and tossed the file
folder on her entry table. "Case stuff. Look at it tomorrow. Not tonight.
Call you in the morning about it. All right?"

 She nodded.

 "Say my name."

 "Ray..." A lover's whisper. Achingly beautiful.

 He had to close his eyes, it was so powerful and when Ray could open them
again he looked down at Dief. "Take good care of her."

 Dief rumbled very low in his throat and pressed against her side.

 Ray opened the door. "Good night, Marina."

 "Good night, Ray." She leaned against the doorjamb as he left and Ray
looked back over his shoulder and smiled as he walked into the elevator.

 Marina closed the door and leaning against it. "Reset security." She
looked down at Dief, her eyes starry with wonder and joy, and whispered,
"Wow... didn't see that coming."

 * * *

 Finally comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, hair damp from a fast but
extremely thorough shower, Fraser waited patiently just inside the
Consulate door, holding a hangar with his spare uniform for the morning
wrapped in plastic.

 His usual uniform would need a complete dry-cleaning to get the stench of
cigarette and cigar smoke out before he could wear it again, it reeked
from the hazy cloud that hung over the reception all night. The stench
destroyed his sense of smell, rendered his nose numb as a post. He and
Turnbull waited until the last of the diplomats left, shooed out the
catering crew after they finished cleaning, then opened wide every window
that couldn't be used to enter the building and left them open for the
night in the hope the stench would clear by morning. Even Turnbull, not
known for his olfactory sensitivity, was half-sick from the reek and
Fraser was glad Diefenbaker was staying with Doctor MacLeod as the wolf
would have been positively ill by this point and miserable besides.

 He was a little concerned with how Dief and Ray's visit had gone with the
Doctor; Ray had sounded so... strange when he answered the phone. Relaxed.
Peaceful. Serene, even. Not that it was a bad thing, just unusual. Ray was
wound so habitually tight it was strange to hear him so tranquil. Ray was
too responsible to drive incapacitated, but otherwise Fraser would be
wondering if his partner hadn't stopped for a couple drinks after dropping
off Diefenbaker.

 But there was Ray's car, driving up the street obeying as many of the
traffic laws as he usually obeyed, which was to say perhaps half, and
Fraser walked out into the hot night, carefully locking the Consulate's
front door behind him. After laying his uniform on the backseat, Fraser
looked Ray over carefully as Ray pulled back out into traffic. Yes, his
partner did have a very odd air about him, distracted but... happy?

 "Is everything all right, Ray?"

 Ray turned to his partner. "Do I look crazy to you, Fraser?"

 "No more so than usual," Fraser replied, with no thought of being funny.
What this was about?

 "Drunk, high, dosed?"

 Startled by the question, Fraser leaned close and inspected Ray minutely.
Had someone slipped Ray some kind of drug? Eyes clear, reflexes normal,
skin tone healthy, breath -what he could smell of it, anyway- untainted
with any chemical residue.

 "No, Ray. None."

 "I guess that's it, then."

 "That's what?"

 "I guess I'm in love."

 Fraser sat back, thrown off kilter by that calm response. "May I ask with
whom, Ray?"

 "Marina. When I went over to her place, we... danced."

 Fraser ran a finger over his eyebrow thoughtfully. Dancing had a very
special meaning for Ray, one deeply tied up with love and sensuality. "I
see."

 "No, but I wish you could have, buddy. It was like... the most beautiful
thing I've ever seen. Like something out of that Arabian Nights
thingamajig."

 Was Ray referring to Sir Richard Burton's classic A Thousand and One
Arabian Nights? Knowing the historical references to Scheherazade and King
Shahryar, as opposed to the children's version most people were familiar
with, Fraser was more than a little startled. But surely Ray couldn't mean
that. For one thing, he was quite sure Ray had neither gotten married nor
executed his bride for infidelity in the last six hours. What on earth had
happened over there?

 "Perhaps you could start at the beginning and tell me everything just as
it happened, Ray?"

 It took a while. By the time Ray finished haltingly describing what
Marina was wearing and the weird, time-displaced, unearthly beauty of her
dance, the hours they'd spent dancing together and both his and her
reactions; they'd reached Ray's apartment and settled into bed for the
night, sitting side by side leaning back against the headboard.

 Fraser listened patiently as Ray finished his recitation- a tale worthy
of Scheherazade herself.

 "So am I crazy, buddy?"

 Fraser took his time answering. The situation with Marina, himself and
Ray was snowballing very fast, yet try as he might Fraser could find no
cause for trepidation beyond the fact that they were risking their hearts
as anyone did when they took a chance on love. He knew his partner well
enough to know Ray would not let their budding relationship interfere with
their current investigation; and hadn't he and Ray already discussed
trying this and agreed to risk the attempt? In light of that, the fact Ray
and Marina had formed a connection and obviously a deeply emotional one
was a good thing, was it not?

 He'd been monitoring his own reactions quite closely during Ray's
recitation and he wasn't feeling any wild pangs of jealousy, perhaps a
little envy he missed what was a very special experience, but he neither
wanted to kill Marina nor sever his friendship with Ray. He didn't feel
left out or pushed aside, as there was no attempt on either of their parts
to exclude him, his duties as a Mountie had, and always would, come first.
He simply wished to be there next time.

 "No, Ray, you're not crazy," Fraser said slowly, and smiled at his
partner. "But I think you are in love."

 Ray grinned suddenly, restored to manic normalcy. "That's what I figured.
But wanted to run it by you anyway." He reached over and snapped off the
light. "Let's get some sleep." He flopped down on his side with his back
to Fraser and held up a hand in a rather odd position; and it touched
Fraser to realize Ray was waiting for him to snuggle up before they slept.
He was happy to oblige and the kiss he pressed on Ray's shoulder tonight
was much less hesitant and definitely warmer.

 "Hey, Ben?"

 "Yes, Ray?"

 "Just so ya know, loved you first."

 Fraser's heart just melted. He could find nothing to say but cleared his
throat twice and finally managed to murmur, "I know that, Ray."

 "Good."

 * * *

  
  

End Geometry: Chapter 6, Phone Calls & Dancing by Diefs Girl 

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