Characters aren't mine (alas.) Alliance owns them ... but since they're
not doing anything with them, they shouldn't object if I invite them out
to play occasionally!	

Rating: PG-13. Mild slash warning. Very mild. Really. But if you're at all
offended by that sort of thing - boy who likes boy who likes boy back
stuff happening.  

This is the 6th in the series that (accidentally) started with The Mask
Slips. It can probably stand alone - but might make more sense in parts if
you've read those first ... at least insofar as I've developed the
characters ...	 

Spoilers - Quite a few for Call of the Wild (Pt 1 & 2). Mild for Burning
Down the House and Eclipse. Takes place during and after Call of the Wild.
 

There are several quotes taken directly from the brilliant screenplay that
resulted in Call of the Wild - no infringement intended - no money will be
made; no profits realized.   

The song quoted is A Matter of Heart by Stan Rogers  

Thanks to Mary Ann, Sarah and Linda. I really appreciate the encouragement
and feedback. All errors of course, are mine ... 'cause I'm the one that
made 'em.   

A Matter of Heart    

 He stood, unobserved, watching his partner from a distance. The Mountie
was out on the ice, sitting on a bucket, apparently talking to himself.
Probably some bizarre Inuit way of getting the fish to come to the line.
*Freak* the blond thought, smiling fondly. But, as he stood and watched,
the smile faded. Ray was scared. Fraser had started spending more and more
time outdoors recently. Not just outdoors, but places like this. Parks,
down by the lake and now here at the reservoir ... always in the cold ...
always with that same far off look in his eyes. He'd been unusually quiet,
distracted. Nothing Ray did or said made any difference. Ray knew what was
wrong with the Mountie. He was homesick ... and that terrified the blond.
Life had been going all right for Chicago Police Detective Ray Kowalski of
late. The problem was, it wasn't his life. For a long time now, he had
been guiltily dreading Vecchio's return and his ensuing eviction from the
refuge he'd found in that man's identity. He hadn't thought before to
worry about another possibility. If the Mountie gave in to his
homesickness and left, Vecchio's identity would turn from a lifeline into
a trap, preventing Kowalski from following the Canadian; forcing him to
stay alone in Chicago. Ray looked across at Fraser and wondered, not for
the first time, when exactly, he had let his life become so bound up with
this other person's. This other man's. He didn't know. Ray just knew he
needed the Mountie ... needed him like he needed air to breathe. He
brought his hand up to his forehead with a sudden expression of pain. Then
he straightened, took a deep breath, cracked his neck sharply and headed
across the ice to greet his partner. 

 "Fraser, I hope fer your sake, yer talkin' to a fish." 

 "Hey, Ray. Have a seat. I'll rig you up a line." 

 "Caught any?" 

 "No, but you know ... ice fishing takes patience." 

 "Yeah, well yer gonna need a lot o' that Fraser, 'cause there ain't no
fish in here." 

 "Well, how do you know that, Ray?" 

 "'Cause it's a city reservoir. Drinking water. No fish." 

 "Oh." They sat in silence for a moment, Ray studying his partner. 

 "You okay?" he finally ventured. 

 "Yeah. Yeah ... just ... uh..." 

 "What?" 

 "I'm homesick." Ray hung his head. The words he'd been so afraid of had
finally been spoken. Later he reflected that it was the first time in his
life he was actually pleased to find a body. The case was a weird one. But
he was working it with Fraser and that was the only thing that mattered
... the only thing he should be concentrating on. But after the
embarrassing bit with the nerve gas, he had to admit he was losing it. He
was terrified by the Canadian connection. What if Fraser had to return to
Canada to finish this case? What if the powers that be decided they didn't
need the Chicago flatfoot to tag along on this one? And what if Fraser
finally realized how much easier life was without a pathetically insecure,
half blind blond with bizarre hair tagging along? He thought he'd faced
the most terrifying aspect of this case ... until a slender, balding man
answered the door and he saw the goofy, happy look on the Mountie's face. 

 "Ray. Ray Vecchio!" And with that, Ray Kowalski's world came crashing
down around him.  

 Sitting in the car, later that night, with Thatcher next to him, Ray had
tried to discuss his fears, figuring if one Mountie was so smart, maybe
another one could guide him. But Thatcher was no help at all. Looking
across the garage, he could make out Ray Vecchio and Fraser sitting in
another car, talking. Probably reminiscing about all the great times
they'd had together in the past and making plans for the future, he
thought. He knew he'd been a bit of an ass towards the Italian detective,
but he hadn't been able to stop himself. First Vecchio was so snarky
towards Fraser, and unfairly so. How were they supposed to know he was
involved with a supposedly dead Canadian nerve gas smuggler? Then, Vecchio
had been a jerk towards him as well. He'd wanted the Mountie to notice, to
speak up in his defense. But Fraser was clearly just so happy to see his
partner again, that he could see no wrong in him. And in a way, Kowalski
couldn't help being glad for him. Anything that made the Mountie happy was
good, no matter what the cost. So, as much as he feared the Italian
detective, he couldn't hate him. The blond looked over at the other car
again. He wished he knew what they were saying. For a brief moment, he
considered that they could be discussing him; that Fraser could be telling
Vecchio what a pain in the ass his stand-in had been ... but Ray dismissed
that idea. He knew Fraser to be a better person than that. He'd keep those
thoughts to himself.   

 "You know, Benny. The desert's okay and Nero does up a great buttermilk,
but this is the stuff I miss," Vecchio was saying. The car had been
strangely silent; their old, easy camaraderie somewhat strained by the
long separation and the changes in both their lives during that period. 

 "Like old times, eh?" Fraser agreed, with a slight smile. He seemed
distracted. Vecchio followed his gaze. The Mountie was looking across the
way to the car where Kowalski sat. 

 "Yeah," Vecchio agreed, softly.  

 Kowalski watched Vecchio get out of the car and walk towards the meet. He
had to admit, the guy was good. The blond had worked some pretty tough
undercover jobs in his time, but nothing to equal this. Even his walk
altered, as the Italian sauntered up to the spot, putting himself back
into Armando Langostini. Everyone was in position and then the sound of
sirens filled the underground garage. 

 "Damn," Kowalski was out of the car and running. Running through the
garage, running through corridors, running through a mall amusement park
... and finally, watching in horror, as Vecchio took a bullet meant for
Fraser; a bullet Kowalski would have gladly taken.  

 In the hospital waiting room, he watched Fraser anxiously. He desperately
wanted to say something to comfort the Mountie, but he couldn't think of a
single thing. He knew how he'd feel if Fraser was lying in there; knew
that there was nothing anyone could say to him that would make it better.
So he just sat as quietly as he could. After Francesca came out of
Vecchio's room and Fraser went in, Ray leaned back in the seat and took a
deep breath.  

 "What's wrong with you?" Francesca challenged. 

 "Me? Uh. Nothing. Just ... I'm not so good at waiting is all." 

 "Yeah. I know," she said, suddenly sympathetic. "Me either." 

 "So ... they think yer brother's gonna be okay?" 

 "They're not really sayin' yet ... but yeah, I think so. I think they
just don't wanna commit, ya know? In case, they're wrong?" 

 "Yeah. I know how that goes." 

 "Ya know, he's really a good guy. I mean, I know he was bein' kind of a
jerk this afternoon and all ..." 

 "S'okay, Frannie. I know what it's like comin' back from deep undercover.
Yer not always fit for ... company right away. You and Fraser care about
him. That tells me everything I need to know. He's ... uh ... he's gotta
be a good guy." 

 "Thanks, Ray." They smiled at each other for a moment. "I'm ... I gotta
go call Ma. Talk about a bad time for her ta be in Florida." Ray nodded in
understanding and watched her walk off. His cell phone rang as Fraser
exited Vecchio's room. For the Mountie. He handed him the phone and tried
to act casual, as Fraser spoke into it and then to him. Something about
Muldoon and an airstrip, he thought. But there was something else he
needed to know. Something far more important than whatever Fraser was
telling him. 

 "So ... what? We still partners?" he finally worked up the courage to
ask. 

 "If you'll have me," Fraser said. Kowalski looked at him searchingly, but
couldn't quite read the Mountie's expression. 

 "Hmm," he muttered. Then jerked his head in the direction of the hallway.
If he'd have him. Didn't the Mountie know there was no one and nothing
more important? Later, hanging onto the wing of a plane for dear life,
while it took off, it occurred to him that maybe he should have listened a
little more carefully to what Fraser had said about the airstrip.  

  

*********   

 "So that's what it sounds like when Mounties celebrate," Ray said to
himself. He was sitting at the entrance to his and Fraser's tent. Dief was
sitting next to him. Ray smiled. You break up a major arms dealing ring,
prevent delivery of a nuclear submarine, and in Fraser's case, capture the
man who murdered your mother, and you decide you really want to break
loose and celebrate, what do you do? Well, if you're a Mountie,
apparently, you gather around a campfire and have a sing-along. Ray sat
listening. He even fancied he could pick out Fraser's rich voice rising up
to him. He smiled wistfully at the sound. Yesterday ... a yesterday that
seemed so long ago, he and the Mountie had been trapped in a crevasse and
he had thought Fraser's voice would be the last thing he would ever hear.
Ray'd been okay with that. A new song started below.  

 "They're probably really living it up down there, with hot chocolate and
everything." Diefenbaker was watching him and whined at the word
"chocolate." "Not me. Down there," Ray motioned. The wolf looked towards
the campfire and back at him. "Go on," Ray laughed and scratched the wolf
between the ears. "I'm fine. I bet Turnbull will share." Diefenbaker was
torn; if the blond cub was really fine, why wasn't he down by the nice
warm fire with Fraser? Dief felt quite protective of his newer packmate,
especially now, when he was so far out of his element. Part of the appeal
was the steady supply of junk food and a newly discovered taste for
pineapple on pizza, but there was also the knowledge that the blond had
risked his life for Fraser since the first day they'd met. That made him
good in the wolf's book. "Go ahead," Ray assured the wolf. "I'm just
really tired. Gonna lay down and get some sleep." He crawled into the tent
and lay down on top of his sleeping bag, reaching down to untie his boots.
Dief barked and raced off to the campfire. Ray watched him go and then sat
back up. He took a deep breath. This was his last chance to change his
mind. He knew if he went down to the campfire, Fraser would make room for
him, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do that. He had spent too much
time relying on the Mountie. Ray was a man with a plan and this was going
to be his best opportunity, no matter how tired he felt.  

 He pulled out a pack he'd stashed earlier that day and began filling it
with the supplies he thought he'd need. His sleeping bag, a tarp, pemmican
(making a face as he packed it), a canteen, waterproof matches; whatever
seemed useful for an adventure. Ray had made up his mind to go look for
that reaching out hand. He felt bad leaving without saying 'good-bye' to
Fraser, but knew the Mountie would never let him go off alone. He needed
to do this. He'd vowed that he would and he meant to keep that vow. There
was also the unvoiced hope that if he went off and found the hand, it
would prove to Fraser that he could make it out here in this wilderness;
then perhaps the Mountie would recognize that he wasn't a complete burden
and let him stay. He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Fraser
the night before. He'd approached the campfire with determination to
resolve the question that had been in his mind since Vecchio had opened
that hotel door.  

 "So ... if, uh, we live through this ... uh ... when we get back to
Chicago, I guess you'll partner up with uh, Vecchio? I mean, that's okay,
'cause uh he's a good guy. You worked with him for awhile." He'd planned
out what to say so carefully, wanting to seem as casual as possible, but
he couldn't get it to come out as smoothly as he wanted. 

 "You know, Ray," Fraser had replied. "My father and Buck Frobisher were
partners for more than twenty years and their territory was thousands of
miles. Sometimes they wouldn't see each other for months, but no matter
how far apart they were, they always knew that they were partners." The
blond looked at him for a moment and gave a shy half smile, trying to hide
his real feelings. So Fraser had continued thinking of Vecchio as his sole
partner all along. He guessed that answered his question. He started to
tell Fraser how he felt, hoping the Mountie would throw him some small
bone of hope, but Thatcher had interrupted them. Ray watched them go off,
figuring he would just wait. But then he saw them kissing. He turned his
back, trying to figure out why that upset him so much. He paced around by
the campfire for a few moments and then took off for the tent he was
sharing with Fraser. When the Mountie came in later that night, he
pretended to be asleep. He figured the Canadian had enough on his mind,
without having to deal with his insecure partner ... no, not partner, he
corrected himself ... not since Vecchio was back. He'd just have to get
through this as best he could. He shivered in his sleeping bag. Damn it
was cold up here, he thought. Fraser moved over, throwing his arm over the
smaller man and drawing him closer. Ray, craving that closeness, allowed
himself to relax back into the Mountie's warm embrace, savoring it until
he finally drifted off to sleep.   

 The following morning had been hard on Fraser, Ray could tell. The
Mountie had returned with his quarry and an oddly forlorn look on his
face. The others put it off to the somewhat anti-climactic capture of
Muldoon. Ray thought there was something more, but every time he tried to
broach the subject, Fraser would find something to distract them. Kowalski
realized the Canadian was purposefully avoiding talking to him. From a
conversation he'd overheard between Thatcher and Frobisher, Ray knew
Fraser wasn't going back to Chicago, that he had in fact, requested an
extended leave. The blond was pretty sure he knew what that meant. Fraser
was going off on his own, and didn't want to deal with telling him that
the ride was over and it was time for the blond to go home. Ray couldn't
face the thought of going back to the lonely existence he'd led the year
before meeting Fraser. "Would you like to go and get something to eat with
me?" Those simple words had changed his life. He shook his head to clear
it. Time to concentrate. Heading into the center of the tent area, he
tramped around mixing his footprints in with everyone's else's. Then Ray
leapt to a rock and from there into the tree line that marked the edge of
the forest. It was cold, but he knew once he got going, he'd warm up. He
strapped on the snowshoes and, repeating Fraser's instructions over and
over to himself, set out.  

 Fraser was happily ensconced by the campfire when Diefenbaker showed up
and edged his way into the warm circle. A questioning look crossed the
Mountie's face, but the wolf was busy surveying potential food donors.
Fraser was worried about Ray. He wasn't quite acting himself. When Fraser
had tried to broach the subject earlier that day, his partner had been
exasperated.  

 "Gimme a break! I'm tired is all. We been kind o' busy the last few days,
in case ya hadn't noticed. 

 "Ray, I'm sorry. I didn't think," Fraser began shamefacedly. 

 "Don't worry 'bout it Frase," Ray said, cutting him off, in a somewhat
irritated tone. "Wouldn't've missed it for the world. I just need some
sleep, is all. Don't need you babyin' me." Fraser had tried to keep an eye
on him the rest of the day, but other than a general sense of worry, he
could find no reason to doubt Ray's words. He'd felt better when
Diefenbaker was with him, though. He'd go and check on Kowalski in a bit,
he told himself. If he went too soon, he'd just offend his friend's
prickly sense of independence. There was also the knowledge that Ray would
probably make him discuss the morning's events. The perceptive blond
clearly knew there was more to what had happened than Fraser was ready to
tell. Turnbull suddenly nudged him and he realized it was his turn to
choose a song.	

 Ray was feeling pretty pleased about his progress. He wasn't falling much
and had developed a pretty good rhythm on the snowshoes, he thought
proudly. He figured he'd been gone for about an hour now. That was a good
start, but he meant to get a lot further tonight. If he was going to show
Fraser that he could make it out here, he would have to do better than
this. He pressed on, enjoying the feeling of his muscles working. Fraser
would have been proud of him, he thought wistfully. Already, he missed the
Canadian's steadfast encouragement and good company. It just made him even
more determined to keep going. If he felt this way in just an hour, how
could he ever hope to survive without the Mountie in Chicago?  

 The group by the campfire was breaking up. There had been some exciting
rounds and memory challenges. It had all been quite invigorating.
Diefenbaker, having cadged some marshmallows off of Turnbull, had curled
up contentedly at Fraser's feet. The Mountie reached over and scratched
the wolf behind the ears. Dief looked at him quizzically. "Let's go check
on Ray," Fraser suggested. The wolf yawned, stood up and shook himself.
Fraser stood and stretched. There were still several Mounties ensconced by
the fire, discussing the latest law updates and their ramifications, so
Fraser knew they would take care of the fire. He headed up to the tents,
with Dief trotting along beside him. When he reached the tent, Fraser
slowed, approaching quietly, so as not to disturb his sleeping partner. He
crept quietly into the shelter. In the moment it took his eyes to adjust
to the darkness, his ears had already told him the essential information.
Ray was not in the tent.  

 Ray stopped for a moment to catch his breath. The cold air bit into his
lungs and hurt. He ducked his face back down into the neck of his jacket.
He had reached the edge of the woods. Ahead lay a vast white expanse. It
was ... ethereal, he thought, pleased with himself for thinking of the
word. He was beginning to understand how Fraser could be so attached to
the place. It was beautiful. He wished he could have shared that thought
with the Mountie. Pushing on, he tripped and fell, face forward into the
snow. He swore at himself, angry at losing his balance. He picked up some
snow and rubbed his face with it, to wake himself up. It stung and he
dropped it. Looking down he could see a faint reddish tinge on the ground.
Ray frowned and, pulling off his glove, picked up a handful, including the
red. Blood. The snow looked soft ... but it had teeth. Weird. Still, he
felt marginally more alert. He rubbed his face again and then forced
himself back up on his feet and onward. He had to find the hand. That'd be
something he could carry with him; an accomplishment that might fill the
void in his soul.  

 Fraser was trying hard not to panic. He had waited a few minutes, in case
Ray was simply at the latrine, but the Chicago detective had not returned.
Further inspection revealed the absence of a sleeping bag and an odd
assortment of gear. Fraser berated himself for not having paid more
attention earlier. Ray had been tired, but that had not been all. Now, too
late, he recognized the look in his friend's eyes; a particular haunted
look the Mountie remembered from that day long ago in the crypt. Ray had
confronted a nightmare that day. The Canadian wondered what nightmare had
been bothering the blond today ... and why he hadn't told his partner. But
then, he thought, he already knew the answer to that. He'd been so wrapped
up in his emotions from the past few days, he'd been unapproachable. When
the blond had asked him if he ever felt lost, he'd purposely
misunderstood, hoping to deflect the question he'd been afraid to answer.
And when Ray persisted, he'd misled him. He didn't know why. Of all the
people he'd met in his life, Ray Kowalski was the one he felt closest to;
the one he trusted the most. But still he couldn't keep from holding him
at arm's distance. It was all very well for Ray to need Fraser, but the
Mountie just couldn't bring himself to admit to the same human weaknesses.
And when Ray had asked him about the morning's events, he'd again put the
blond off. He just hadn't finished processing it in his own mind, Fraser
had told himself; couldn't discuss it yet. They'd have plenty of time
later. The truth though, was that he was afraid. Afraid Ray would think he
was crazy. Afraid the blond would lose respect for him, see through his
carefully maintained facade, recognize him for the charlatan he was and
run from him. But not confiding in him, seemed to have had the same
effect. Fraser quickly rolled up his sleeping bag and threw together a
pack with the necessary supplies. Back outside, he took Dief's muzzle in
his hands, turning the wolf's face to face his own. "Find Ray," he
instructed. 

 "Constable?" Fraser turned to find Inspector Thatcher behind him. She
frowned at the sight of his pack. "You're leaving?"  

 "Ray's gone off," he explained. 

 "Alone?" Her tone was appalled. 

 "Yes."  

 "We've had a report of an incoming storm. You'll require some assistance
in fetching him back." 

 "There's no point in risking other lives," he told her. "He's not that
experienced on snowshoes. Hopefully he hasn't gotten far." 

 "Where did he go?" 

 "I don't know."  

 "Well you'd better fetch him back quickly, find him before he gets
hypothermia. That idiot will never survive up here on his own," Thatcher
told him. 

 "He's not an idiot," Fraser automatically corrected. Then, in an appalled
tone, "Hypothermia ... oh, dear." 

 "What?" Thatcher asked, not liking the look in her subordinate's eyes. 

 "This is my fault." 

 "What are you talking about?" 

 "When we were trying to catch up to Muldoon, Ray had hypothermia. I'd
forgotten." 

 "Understandably, so," Thatcher assured him. "You've had other things on
your mind." 

 "No. That's not good enough. I brought Ray up here. He's my
responsibility. He was shivering last night. He told me he was tired
today, and I never even stopped to think ...." Thatcher was surprised to
see his eyes were glistening in the reflected light from the surrounding
tents. She knew the two men were close friends, but her Constable's
behavior suggested his feelings towards the strange blond, might run
deeper than she had suspected. "I have to leave. I have to find him,
quickly." He was talking to himself, as he turned to leave. 

 "Constable? ... CONSTABLE!" He turned back. "Let me get you a radio. Keep
in touch and let us know if we can help?" Fraser nodded his assent,
chafing at the delay, but recognizing that the radio would be a useful
addition. Thatcher went and got him a portable.  

 "Thank you," he said, accepting it and stowing it in his pack. He turned
to go. 

 "Benton?" He turned his head back. "Good luck," Thatcher said softly. He
nodded, smiling his thanks, and then turned to find Diefenbaker waiting
patiently at the edge of the woods.  

 Ray was struggling. It was much harder going here. He kept falling. He
was sweating and really cold. He'd started to shiver and couldn't stop.
Looking back, it didn't appear that he'd made any ground at all recently.
He comforted himself with a long ago read fact that appearances and
distance were deceiving out here. He faced forward and started off again.
He wanted to get as far as possible before he had to stop. When he
couldn't go any further, he'd stop and rest for awhile. And then he could
move on. This was the best idea he'd ever had, he told himself firmly. No
having to go back to an empty apartment. No having to pretend that all was
well and that he could handle losing Fraser. Ray knew if he had to go home
alone, all the feelings he'd had before would return in force. He barely
been holding it together, when he'd taken on the undercover assignment as
Ray Vecchio. He had coped with so much for so long, he was exhausted just
by living day to day. He'd hoped the new challenge would jolt him out of
his depression and to some extent it had, but the effect was only
temporary. It was already starting to wear off when he'd met Fraser. The
Mountie, well, he was different than anyone Kowalski had ever known. Ray
had been desperately lonely, and then suddenly he had a built-in friend.
He'd been grateful just for the company at first, but the cover friendship
had grown steadily, into something more, something stronger and more
meaningful than anything Ray had previously known. Fraser had quite
simply, made Ray's life worth living again. And he was terrified that if
he had to return to Chicago alone, it would just be a matter of time
before he sank back into that depression and ate his gun or found a way to
get himself killed on the job. He shook his head, trying to come back to
the present. He was so tired. It would be so easy to lay down and go to
sleep. To just give up and admit what a loser he really was. That, without
Fraser, he was nothing. Dying out here would make things so much easier.
They could tell themselves that it was an accident; that in his usual
stupid manner, he'd wandered off and gotten lost. It was the best way. But
he had wanted to get so much further. He forced himself to keep going.	

 Fraser and Diefenbaker set a rapid pace. The wolf was confident of his
scent and Fraser just followed him, not bothering to use his flashlight.
The Mountie figured Ray had at most, a two hour lead, judging that he had,
mostly likely, left right after Diefenbaker came down to the fire. He was
still berating himself for not having caught the warning signs of
hypothermia, or having checked on the blond sooner. "I can't lose him," he
whispered. "Please." He wasn't sure who he was talking to. He just knew he
was begging. He forced his attention back to the wolf and the trail
through the woods.  

 Ray came to lying face down in the snow. Confused, he called out "Frase?"
There was no answer. Carefully, he pushed himself up and then climbed to
his feet. He stood, swaying ... and alone. Where was the Mountie, he
wondered. He began trudging through the snow. Blinking hard, Ray thought
he could see more woods ahead. "If I get there, I can rest a minute," he
promised himself. At some point he'd hit his head. It had bled a lot at
first, but then stopped. Probably because of the cold, he thought. It was
getting harder and harder to remember what he was doing. He kept finding
himself just standing still, as though he'd fallen asleep on his feet.
"Just make the woods," he repeated to himself. If he could get there, that
would be fine. He could just lie down and sleep. He no longer cared what
he proved or didn't prove. He wasn't even sure he remembered why he was
out here. He was vaguely aware that he had finally managed to stop
shivering. 

  

 Dief continued to lope on ahead, with Fraser following, moving quickly
through the snow. He tried to force down rising panic. The wind was
starting to pick up, heralding the rapidly approaching storm. How far
could Ray have gotten? And what on Earth had he been thinking, to take off
by himself? He was torn between being mad at Ray, for worrying him like
this, and being furious with himself for leaving his partner alone. "You
got so caught up in your own affairs, you forgot all about him," he
muttered to himself angrily. "Completely ignored his welfare, hauled him
into the middle of an alien world in pursuit of your vengeance. He risks
his life over and over again to back you up and then you just forget about
him. As if the way you treated him on Vecchio's return wasn't bad enough."
In his excitement on welcoming Ray Vecchio back, safe and sound, he knew
that he had neglected to reassure Ray Kowalski that nothing had changed
between them. That horrifying realization had dawned on him at the
hospital. "So, we still partners?" In those pale blue eyes, Fraser had
caught a glimpse of the insecurity he'd worked so hard to erase over the
past year. Ray hadn't really complained once; had just tagged along and
continued to support him, and he'd ignored the blond completely. In the
midst of his self-degradation, he noted the distance travelled; Ray was
clearly learning to use his snowshoes. He reflected that this would have
pleased him greatly under other circumstances. He forced himself to move
faster. When they reached the edge of the woods, Diefenbaker looked up,
barked encouragement and then forged ahead. He was clearly aware of the
urgency of the situation.  

 Ray had reached the tree line. He sank down gratefully, awkwardly
shedding his pack. His vision was much worse than usual and his stomach
was cramping up. He'd been stumbling and falling for the last ... well he
had no idea how long. Thoughts just refused to stay in his head. Leaning
back against a tree, he squinted back out over the snowy landscape and
smiled faintly to himself. It really was amazing out here.   

 Dief had stopped and was nosing at something partially buried in the
snow. Fraser surged forward hopefully and then stopped, dejected to find
the object of Diefenbaker's interest was a rock. Then, shining a
flashlight on it, he noticed the blood around it. Fraser took a deep
breath, forcing down the panic that threatened to surface. Ray was out
here, unprepared, ill and now injured. He scanned the sky. He could see
the storm building as well. The clouds, starting to become more visible
with the approaching dawn, were low and dark. Nimbostratus. He estimated
he had, at most, two hours to find Ray and get him into some kind of a
shelter, before the storm hit. Any hope of outside rescue would be
impossible until it had passed. Everywhere he looked, the situation grew
worse. He looked ahead at Diefenbaker. "Please," he whispered. "Please
find him." The wolf looked back, and whined softly, encouragingly, then
put his nose to the ground again. Fraser followed.  

 It was too much effort to hold his eyes open any more. Taking one last
look, Ray closed his eyes and let go.  

 Dief was wandering about, casting for the scent. Fraser waiting as
patiently as he could. Suddenly the wolf whined and took off back towards
the woods. Fraser followed, trying to force more speed out of his body.
Diefenbaker barked, indicating that the trail was quite recent. It looked
like Ray was wandering in circles now. Dief suddenly began racing back
towards the tree line. Fraser looked ahead and saw the shape of his
friend, far ahead, slumped in the snow. When he got closer, he started
yelling Ray's name, but his voice was lost in the wind. When he finally
reached his partner, Diefenbaker was nosing at the detective, whining and
gently nipping at him. The blond was frighteningly pale and still. Fraser
knelt down, and pulling off one of his gloves, stuck his hand into his
friend's jacket at the neck. Ray's pulse was slow, but it was there and he
was still breathing. The Mountie exhaled the breath he hadn't been aware
that he was holding. He shook his partner, trying to awaken him. Ray
mumbled something in a very low voice, but didn't open his eyes. "Ray?
Ray? Please, Ray. Wake up!" he pleaded. The blond mumbled again and made a
feeble attempt to swat away the disturbance. He didn't open his eyes. His
face was bloody from a gash over one eye and there were abrasions on his
cheeks and nose, but those were minor considerations right now. "We've got
to get him warmed up," he told the wolf. Dief whined back and leaned his
furry body up against the detective. Fraser smiled gratefully. "Hold on
Ray," he whispered. "Please, hold on." He moved into the woods a ways and
put down his pack. Then he returned to the blond. Very carefully, trying
not to jostle him, Fraser picked his partner up and carried him into the
woods, setting him down as gently as possible. Here, they were somewhat
out of the wind. Pulling a ground cover out of his supplies, he wrapped
that around the smaller man, covering his face too. Dief again leaned
against Ray, trying to impart some of his own warmth. The Mountie returned
for Ray's pack and set it next to his own. Then he stood back up, took a
deep breath and focused his attention on the need to build a shelter.	

 He found a tree that satisfied his needs, and pulling a small shovel out
of his pack, began digging under the bottom branches on the lee side,
creating a tunnel of sorts. Burrowing in a ways, he found what he wanted:
a space under the branches that had been kept clear of snow. A sort of
pre-fabricated shelter. It was damp, but protected and appeared to have
space enough for the two men, the wolf and a fire. He kept glancing over
his shoulder, gauging the progress of the storm. When he was satisfied
with their "cave," he began stripping smaller branches from under another
tree and layered them on the floor to create a bed of sorts, to keep them
off the cold ground. This, he covered with a tarp and then the two
sleeping bags, zipped together, but left open. He then went back to Ray.
His friend didn't appear to have moved at all. Leaning over, he picked up
the smaller man and moved him into the shelter. Dief crowded in after
them. After setting Ray down, Fraser went back to pull in the packs. Now
that they were out of the way of the storm, he could concentrate on his
partner. Ray's outer layers were wet, so he quickly stripped him down to
dryer layers and then added a sweater and an extra pair of socks from his
pack. He lay Ray down on the sleeping bags, then zipped them, covering his
partner up. Diefenbaker again moved in to lay tightly against the blond.
Fraser reached out and patted the wolf's head. Then he left the shelter to
gather fuel for a fire.   

 On returning to the shelter for the last time for the night, he crawled
in, leaving the exit as narrow as possible. The storm was starting up,
outside. He stripped off his wet outer layers and boots, leaving them by
the entrance of the shelter, stashing his shovel next to them. Dief was
still stretched out along one side of the unconscious man. Fraser reached
out to scratch the wolf's jaw. Dief whined. "I know boy. We're going to
take good care of him." The Mountie leaned over and examined the cut on
the blond's head. It was deep, but appeared relatively clean. He gently
wiped away the blood with a gauze pad from his first aid kit. Squeezing
some ointment out of a tube, he carefully spread it over the gash. Then he
pressed a sterilized bandage down on it. He cleaned off the rest of Ray's
face, carefully examining the skin, and then, one after the other, his
hands, removing his wet gloves and replacing them with dry socks. There
were several spots, one on the blond's nose and on all the fingers of his
right hand that suggested frostnip. He moved down, unzipping the bags, so
as not to move Ray more than necessary, and checked his feet, one at a
time, trying to minimize their exposure to the cold. The hypothermia was a
more dangerous situation, but he didn't want to overlook anything.
Covering the blond back up, he watched him for a moment. Ray was so very
still. Fraser half expected him to open his eyes and crow in triumph as he
had that very first day, after Greta shot him. "Wake up, Ray. Please," he
begged. There was no response. Blinking back the tears that threatened to
overwhelm him, Fraser turned to the firebed he'd built earlier. The only
fuel he could find right now was damp, but it should still burn he
thought. He had brought some dry tinder in his pack and lay some of that
around. Pulling out his waterproof matches, he carefully lit it. After a
few tense moments, the fire caught. Fraser watched anxiously to make sure
that the smoke was drawing out the hole he'd made in the top of the
shelter. It wouldn't do to asphyxiate Ray after all this. The temperature
in the shelter started to warm up a bit. It wouldn't get anywhere near
hot, but it would be a big improvement over the freezing temperatures
outside. A pan was placed next to the fire, filled with snow. Searching
through Ray's pack he found an odd assortment of food. The chocolate bars
were a good find and made him smile as well. He pulled out the canteen and
forced snow into it, placing it, along with his own, near the fire. They
would make good hot water bottles, as well as providing Ray with something
warm to drink when he woke up. Because he had to wake up. That was all
there was to it. Those preparations taken care of, he returned to Ray.
Carefully, he slid himself into the sleeping bags next to his partner.
Suddenly he remembered. Reaching out to his pack, he grabbed the radio out
of a pocket. Turning it on, he called "Fraser to Base. Fraser to Base." 

 "Constable? Where are you?" Thatcher had clearly been waiting by the
radio. 

 "We're about five kilometers Northeast of your location," he said,
following with the exact coordinates.  

 "We? You found Detective Kowalski then?" 

 "Yes, Sir. He's ... he's unconscious, but breathing." 

 "The storm is moving in quickly. I don't think we have time to get to
you." 

 "Don't try, Sir. I've built a shelter. We'll ride it out as best we can."


 "The weather service says it's going to last two to three days." 

 "Understood." 

 "I'm sorry. Keep in touch Constable. We'll keep someone by the radio at
all times and we'll head out just as soon as we can. Until then ... well,
I know Kowalski's in the best hands possible."	

 "Thank you, Sir." Fraser signed off and put the radio away. It was
comforting to know that Inspector Thatcher was handling the other end. She
would have a rescue party organized as soon as it was feasible. All he had
to do was keep Ray alive until then. He pulled the blond in towards him.
Removing the sock from the one frostbitten hand, he pulled it up under his
own clothes and into his armpit, shivering reflexively. His partner was so
very cold. Then he moved his hand up and covered Ray's nose. It was a bit
awkward, but still he managed to gather Ray in his other arm, pulling the
smaller man closer. The boughs beneath them made for a relatively soft and
fragrant bed. Under other circumstances, Fraser thought, he would very
much have enjoyed sharing this experience with Ray. Diefenbaker waited
until he had stopped moving and then settled in again, on the other side
of the blond, leaning over to nuzzle his cheek. Ray stirred briefly,
mumbling something that sounded like "exclamation mark," and then was
still again. Fraser took that as another good sign. He lay there for some
time, then got up and removed the canteens from the fire. Reaching into
the bags, he placed one between the blond's legs and the other behind him
in the small of his back, up under the sweaters. Crawling back in, he
pulled the sleeping bag up over both of their heads and settled in. He lay
there, listening to Ray's breathing. It seemed so slow. Fraser
concentrated on it, willing Ray to take each breath. He hadn't really
considered a life without the blond in it; now, the thought terrified him.
He had just assumed that somehow they would manage to go on. Fraser didn't
make close friends easily. He had always been content to follow his own
path and reluctant to rely on others. Chicago had changed that. Ray
Vecchio had started it, with his easy, good natured companionship. Fraser
hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely on that companionship until one
day it was suddenly gone. But then, Ray Kowalski had been there. Ray, with
his sunny smile and ready laugh, masking a deep vulnerability. The blond
had slowly become the center of Fraser's life. And the thought that he
might now lose him, terrified the Mountie more than anything he could
think of. Eventually, still concentrating on Ray's breathing, Fraser
drifted off himself. 

  

 Ray awoke in darkness. His head ached terribly and he was so cold.
Confused, he tried to remember where he was. Then it came to him. He was
on an adventure ... except then he'd decided to just freeze to death
instead. It was, he'd thought, supposed to be peaceful death. From
everything he'd heard or read, he shouldn't even be awake right now.
Figured he couldn't even do that right. It was really dark, he thought.
Really, really dark. And cold. At least he was getting that part right.
Ray shivered. Suddenly the darkness surrounding him squeezed. He yelped. 

 "Sorry." The voice, right next to him, startled him for a second time. He
jerked and yelped again. Something was wrapped tightly around him, holding
him in place. He struggled to fight free. Freezing to death was one thing.
Being eaten by some Canadian Big Foot was something else entirely.
"Relax," the voice said. "Please." Definitely Canadian, Ray noted. Polite
and everything. He continued to struggle, ignoring the sharp pains that
shot through his body. Suddenly light and a blast of colder air burst in
on him. The creature holding him flipped him onto his back and pinned him
down. "Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray," the voice kept repeating, finally penetrating
his panic.  

 "Frase?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Sorry. Thought you were a Canadian monster or somethin'," Ray confided. 


 "A monster?" Fraser sounded a bit offended. 

 "Sorry," Ray said again. He shivered slightly. Fraser slid back down and
pulled the bags back over their heads again. "S'dark." 

 "It will keep you warmer." 

 "Oh." Silence. "Frase?" 

 "Yes, Ray?" 

 "This a dream?" 

 "No, Ray." 

 "You sure?" 

 "Yes. Please, go back to sleep." 

 "I think I am asleep. Well, actually, unconscious," Ray confided. "You're
still at the camp." 

 "Ah." 

 "I had ta do this ... ta prove I wouldn't be a hinder ... hind ... drag
on you. So you'd let me stay ... wouldn't make me go away."  

 "What?" 

 "Left my dreamcatcher in Chicago," Ray said in a sleepy tone. Fraser
could feel a pricking at the back of his eyes.	

 "I'll be your dreamcatcher, Ray. And I would never send you away." 

 "'Kay. Don't tell Fraser though. He'll be mad. He won't let me stay if he
finds out." The last was whispered and fading, as the blond dropped back
off. Fraser pulled him closer. The Mountie knew that mental disorientation
was a symptom of hypothermia, but Ray's fear that he would send him away;
he didn't think that was purely a result of his illness.  

 "I'm sorry, Ray. I'm so sorry," he whispered.	

 When Ray stirred again, about an hour later, Fraser took advantage of it,
carefully sitting the blond partway up and getting him to drink some water
from one of the canteens. The smaller man whimpered at the movement, but
didn't fight it. Fraser started humming softly, which seemed to relax him
some. 

 "Stel?" 

 "No, Ray. It's Ben. Try to drink some more." 

 "Didn't get to tell Ben." 

 "I'm here, Ray. I'm right here." 

 "Dunno. Can't think right." The blond sounded frustrated. 

 "It's all right. Here. Lay back down," easing the smaller man back down
on his back. 

 "Gotta tell him somethin'." 

 "I'm not going anywhere Ray. You can tell me later." He reached out to
the fire, and took the pot off, with a sock. The snow had melted. He
poured it into the canteen. It warmed it nicely. He reached into the
sleeping bags and tucked the hot water bottle back in between Ray's legs.
After refilling the pot and sticking it back on the fire, he slid back
down into the sleeping bags and pulled Ray back into his arms, again
tucking his right hand under his armpit, noting that it was still quite
cold. The blond relaxed back into sleep. Fraser allowed his mind to drift,
thinking for the first time in many years about what he wanted his future
to hold. His concept of what would make a good life for himself had
changed radically over the last three years. Between his father's death
and his life in Chicago, many of his earlier held beliefs had been
altered, had grown to hold new possibilities and to accept that the world
was not as black and white and that grey could be considered an enhancing
color, not just a smearing of the edges. Ray whimpered, startling him out
of his reverie. "Shh," he automatically soothed. Ray whimpered again,
trying to draw his hand back from Fraser's armpit. The Mountie understood
immediately. The feeling was returning to the hand and he knew from his
own experience, that it was very painful. Ray began to struggle and his
cries began to rise in volume. Fraser just pulled him in tighter,
protecting him. Ray kept fighting. Fraser began to sing, softly. He chose
an old lullaby his mother had sung to him years before when he was very
young and ill. Ray stopped struggling and slowly relaxed. When Fraser
stopped singing, Ray immediately reacted by tensing up and pulling at his
hand. The Mountie began to sing again. He sang in a low, steady voice,
pausing periodically, to gauge his partner's reaction. When Ray finally
remained still and quiet, Fraser allowed himself to drop off to sleep as
well.  

 Fraser used his internal clock to wake himself every two hours. The storm
continued to rage outside. He would check their ventilation, put more fuel
on the fire and force Ray to drink, both warm water and a broth he mixed
from a powder he'd brought. The blond remained disoriented, occasionally
recognizing the Canadian, more often not. Fraser thought Ray's temperature
was rising, but wasn't sure if he was just so desperate for that, that he
was imagining it. He continued to care for his partner through the day and
into the night, holding him close, whispering words of encouragement into
his ear and, when he grew fractious, singing to him. 

  

 Fraser had lost track of time outside the shelter. He awoke, as he had so
many times before, and immediately checked on the smaller man. Ray was
still breathing, still lying up against him. The Canadian reached up and
gently touched his partner's cheek.  

 "Ray? Ray? Ray?" the Mountie spoke gently. The blond muttered something.
"Wake up, Ray. I need you to wake up." More undecipherable mutterings.
Fraser gently drew back the covers, exposing only his partner's face.
"Ray?" he repeated. The pale blue eyes opened. Shut. Opened again,
blinking at him, focusing. "You need to drink something."  

 "Wanna sleep." The Mountie smiled. Ray was talking to him, directly. 

 "You can sleep afterwards." Fraser reached down and pulled out the
closest canteen. Ray looked at him oddly. "It was there to help keep you
warm," the Mountie explained, reddening slightly. The blond said nothing.
Fraser helped him into a sitting position and supported him while he
drank. "More," he insisted when Ray stopped. Ray drank more. When Fraser
was satisfied, he helped the blond lay back down. He repeated the process
of filling the canteen with water and the pot with snow. Ray watched him
silently. He retrieved the other canteen from the sleeping bags and placed
it by the fire to warm up again. He returned to lay next to Ray, but on
top of the sleeping bags.. 

 "Thought I was dreamin'." the Chicago detective said. 

 "No, Ray." 

 "I was ... uh ... tryin' ta find the hand. I think. Franklin's?" His
expression was confused. 

 "You think?" 

 "Not exactly sure. I had a plan." He flashed a weak smile. "I was a man
with a plan ...." He trailed off, a confused expression on his face. He
was silent for a bit, Then, "What're you doin' here?" He found himself
looking straight up into Fraser's eyes. Uncomfortable with the Mountie's
direct gaze, he turned his eyes to the side.  

 "I came after you." 

 "Why'd ya have to go an' do that?" Ray asked, quietly, still not meeting
Fraser's eyes. 

 "What on Earth would make you think that I wouldn't come after you?" Now
Fraser really sounded upset. Ray shrank back and didn't say anything.
"Ray, I want an answer," Fraser insisted in a more gentle tone of voice.
Ray said something under his breath. "What?" 

 "Just leave me alone," Ray said, turning his head away. "Why couldn't you
just leave me alone?" 

 "Ray," Fraser started and broke off. Taking a deep breath, he forced
himself to speak calmly. "I want an answer," he said. "What were you
thinking?"  

 "Just that, ya know ..." Kowalski trailed off. 

 "What?" Fraser spoke quietly, encouragingly. 

 "You know, with Vecchio back and all ..." Fraser waited patiently. "That
we, that I ... well that I was kind o' redundant and all." 

 "Oh, Ray." Fraser shook his head. Ray mistook the emotion in his voice
for anger, and tried to shrink back, but there was nowhere to go. Between
the Mountie and the wolf, he was trapped. His eyes began tearing up.  

 "I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I just ... I couldn't go back ta ... ta being
alone. I kept thinkin' what it would be like, ya know? Tryin' to imagine
what my life was like before I took this gig. Only I couldn't ... it just
all seems like it was so ... empty or somethin'. I ... I don't know who I
am anymore. I mean, I'm not the guy I used ta be ... and I liked the guy I
was becomin' with you ... but without you there ... I ... I just couldn't
do it. And then, I thought, ya know, that if I proved ta you that I could
survive out here, you'd maybe let me hang around for a little while anyway
... ya know 'til ya went back ta Vecchio ... or got sick o' me. And if I
didn't survive ... well that'd solve stuff too." Fraser was silent,
uncertain where to even start. "Told ya I sucked," Ray said in a low
voice. The absolute desolation in the blond's voice tore at the Mountie. 

 "Why didn't you talk to me?" 

 "Tried," Ray said in a low voice. 

 "When?" 

 "The other night. By the campfire, when you said all that about you and
Vecchio always bein' partners, no matter how far apart or how much time
an' all that." Ray shivered, partly from the cold and partly from the
memory of just how much those words had hurt. He tucked his head down,
ashamed at how pathetic and needy he must appear. Fraser sighed and pulled
the covers tighter around him, before replying.  

 "Ray?" 

 "Yeah," in the dull voice of a child who expects to be slapped down. 

 "I meant you." 

 "Huh?"  

 "I meant you, Ray. Stanley Raymond Kowalski, you are my partner and
always will be, no matter how far apart or how much time and all that." 

 "Me?" Ray cautiously looked up at Fraser, tentatively meeting his eyes. 

 "Yes. You." 

 "You're not just saying that ta make me feel better are ya?" The Mountie
looked at him sadly, hating the uncertainty in his friend's voice, and
hating even more that he'd been the cause of it this time. 

 "I am so sorry, Ray," he said softly. 

 "So, ya didn't mean it," the blond looked away again. 

 "No, I mean yes." Fraser stopped, momentarily confused. He shook his head
to clear it. Reaching over, he took Ray's jaw in his hand, turning the
blond's head back to face his own. "We really do have to put some more
effort into our communication skills," he sighed. "I meant what I said,
Ray. You are my partner. I am so sorry that I didn't make that clearer to
you. It's my fault you're out here." 

 "No. Do not do that. Do not take responsibility for my actions, Fraser.
Do not blame yourself for my idiocy. Just 'cause I'm too stupid ta ..." He
was cut off by a hand over his mouth.  

 "That's another thing we still need to work on," Fraser told him gently.
"You are not stupid Ray. You are in fact, quite intelligent." Ray moved
his mouth out from under Fraser's hand and gave a half smile.  

 "You're the only one that thinks so," he said softly.	

 "That's not true." Fraser cupped the angular jaw in his hand. "You are an
intelligent, warm and caring human being, Ray. There is nothing wrong with
you." 

 "Nothing? Yer gettin' a little carried away there, Benton buddy." 

 "I find nothing wrong with you, Ray. Well, perhaps your habit of
self-negativity ... and the accompanying tendency to do harm to yourself."


 "Oh, is that all," with a wry smile. 

 "Those are the only things I would change in you," the Mountie said
seriously. 

 "I don't know if I can change those things," Ray said, honestly. "They
been a part of me for almost as long as I can remember, ya know?" 

 "I understand, Ray. I do. But, I think you can change. Together we were
making a start. And I want so very much to help you."  

 "Always knew you were a freak," Ray said, smiling back. 

 "As has been previously established," Fraser agreed. "But I'm serious,
Ray. I want to help you. I want you to be able see yourself as I see you.
I ... I can't keep watching you do this, Ray. I care about you. I care a
great deal about you. When you try to hurt yourself, you are hurting me as
well." His gaze was direct and clear and the blond could see the honesty
of his statement. 

 "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't want ta hurt you. I'd never want to
do that. When I left, I really wasn't thinking specifically about dyin' or
gettin' hurt. Just it was a risk I was okay with. I really did plan to go
off on my adventure." 

 "Understood." Fraser moved his hand to the smaller man's shoulder. "Ray
... when I said this was my fault, I was referring to the fact that you
were hypothermic before and I didn't take proper care of you. One of the
symptoms of hypothermia is mental confusion." 

 "So, pretty much, I've had this hypothermia thing my whole life then?"
Fraser smiled and shook his head. 

 "I rather doubt that Ray. I've known you to have some very logical
thoughts over the course of our acquaintance." 

 "Yeah?" 

 "One or two ..." 

 "Funny guy," Ray chuckled. He thought for a moment. "So yer sayin' I
didn't really decide to do something stupid. I mean, I did decide, but I
really didn't." 

 "That's right," Fraser agreed, wondering if he should be concerned about
his own mental state that he followed that train of thought so easily. 

 "Thought I got over the hypothermia, though." 

 "Perhaps. But it made you very vulnerable to a relapse. I'm sorry Ray. I
wasn't paying attention to you. You told me you were tired. I knew you
were cold and you were clearly ... irritable. I should have recognized
those as symptoms of hypothermia - especially after the other day. I've
been so caught up in my own problems, I forgot to take care of you." 

 "No! Do not go there! It's not like I didn't have plenty other reasons to
be tired an' cold ... an' I'm always cranky when there's no coffee. You're
not perfect Ben, and I don't expect ya ta be. No one does ... 'cept you.
You shouldn't have to take care o' me, Fraser. I'm a grown man. I'm
supposed to be able to take care o' myself! 'Sides you had enough to deal
with. I should've been helping you." 

 "This is not your world, Ray. It's mine. I should have looked out for
you. Just as you looked out for me in Chicago. We're partners Ray. We take
care of each other." 

 "Oh yeah. I'm doin' a great job." The tone was scathing. 

 "You came with me on a very dangerous trip, supported me and encouraged
me when I needed it and remained by my side at all times, in a world you
know almost nothing about. What more is there?" They were silent for
several minutes, thinking. Fraser became aware of faint tremors running
through the blond's body. He looked down into the pale eyes. 

 "I'm really cold," Ray said in a conversational tone. "And my head hurts.
A lot." Fraser looked concerned. Dief, who had politely remained out of
the discussion up until now, squirmed in closer to Ray's other side.  

 "Dief and I will take care of you," Fraser told his partner.  

 "Doesn't feel the same as what I had on the mountain." 

 "It's worse this time." Fraser reached back over to the fire. Using a
sock, he picked up the pan and moved it over to the ground near their
heads. Pulling a packet out of his supplies, he mixed it into the heated
water. After he'd let it cool a bit, he made Ray sit up again and drink
the broth. The blond made a face, but obeyed. Fraser offered him a
chocolate bar after. 

 "You brought chocolate?" 

 "No. You did." 

 "Oh. So ... I did something right?" 

 "Yes, Ray." 

 "Cool." He was only able to eat a few bites though, before handing it
back. Fraser frowned and helped the smaller man lie back down again. The
Canadian quickly drank some water out of the canteen and chewed on some
pemmican, while going through his routine with the canteens and the pot.
After he was finished, he replaced the now warm canteens back in the
sleeping bag around Ray. The blond watched every move. Fraser checked the
fire and the ventilation holes and then climbed in next to Ray again. He
tucked the blond's right hand back into his armpit and pulled the sleeping
bag up around him. "Try and get some sleep," he urged. 

 "This is really bad, isn't it?" 

 "You'll be fine. We just have to get your temperature up. Get you so that
your body can produce its own heat again," the Mountie said in a soothing
tone. 

 "I could still die, couldn't I?" 

 "I won't let you," Fraser whispered. 

 "If I do - I didn't get to finish what I was tryin' ta tell you the other
night by the campfire." Ray's voice was very quiet. Fraser had to lean in
to hear.  

 "Tell me later." 

 "No. Now." Even sick, Kowalski was his usual stubborn self. "I just
wanted ta tell you what your friendship, your partnership, means to me.
How much this last year meant ..." 

 "I think I know now," Fraser said, smiling wryly. 

 "Yeah, guess so." Ray chuckled quietly. Silence. Then, "Frase?" 

 "You need to sleep, Ray." 

 "How come you got my hand in yer armpit?" 

 "You have frostbite. I'm keeping it warm." 

 "Yer armpit?" 

 "Well, it seemed the less ... provoking ... of the two recommended
options." 

 "Oh." Puzzled silence. Then, "Oh!" Fraser smiled. 

 "Now, go back to sleep Ray." The blond was quiet for a moment, then, 

 "If I make it through this, can we go on my adventure?" 

 "I'd like that very much." 

 "Good. I like it up here," the Chicago detective confided. 

 "I'm glad, Ray. Now, please go to sleep." 

 "'Kay. ... Frase?" 

 "Sleep, Ray." 

 "Can't. Tell me one o' those Inuit stories." Fraser laughed. Dief leaned
in and licked his face and then Ray's. Ray smiled. One of those rare, full
on smiles that lit up his entire face. Fraser loved that smile. It grabbed
him by the heart, every time. He didn't think he could bear a world
without that smile. 

 "Any particular story?" he asked. 

 "You choose," said Ray. Fraser thought a moment and then launched into
the least exciting Inuit story he could think of, which was still quite
gripping from his point of view. He didn't have to finish it though, as
Kowalski quickly dropped off to sleep. Dief looked questioningly at
Fraser.  

 "He has to be all right," the Mountie told the wolf, as he pulled the
sleeping bag up over Ray's head. "He simply has to."  

 When Ray woke again, it was to a feeling of security ... until he
realized Fraser wasn't beside him. He sat up and looked wildly around him.
He was in a shelter. He hadn't imagined that. He crawled out of the
sleeping bag, shivering in the cold, and started up what looked like a
tunnel to the outside.	

 "Ray!" the voice came from in front of him. Fraser was crawling toward
him. He had a rope tied around his waist. "Get back inside, now!" he
snapped. Stung, Ray retreated. Fraser followed him in, Dief following the
Mountie. They were both covered in snow. After he'd removed the rope and
his outerwear and boots, leaving them by the entrance, Fraser moved over
and replenished the fire with wood he had brought in from outside.
Diefenbaker waited until he was out of range and shook himself free of
snow in the entry tunnel. After he'd finished stoking the fire, the
Mountie turned to look at the blond. Ray was sitting, looking at him with
a miserable expression in his eyes. 

 The Mountie sighed. "Ray," he began. 

 "S'Okay. Told you I was stupid. Goin' outside without proper gear." His
voice was dull. Fraser crawled over to sit next to his partner.  

 "I think I would term your action impulsive, rather than stupid and
undoubtedly the hypothermia is still affecting your mind." he said,
reaching out and pulling the blond into his arms, surrounding the smaller
frame with his own. "Your body temperature is still very low, Ray. You
need to stay inside and covered up. Please." The smaller man said nothing.
"How are you feeling?" Fraser asked gently. Ray shrugged by way of an
answer. He sat stiffly, not looking at the Mountie. It was rather like
holding a cat that wants you to know it is only just tolerating the
embrace. "Are you hungry?" Ray shook his head no. "Well at least have
something to drink." Fraser reached over and picked up the canteen he had
placed back by to the fire. Ray took it. "Drink," Fraser ordered. Ray
fumbled with the cap. The Mountie reached around and unscrewed it. Ray
took a couple of swallows. "More," ordered Fraser again. Ray drank,
obediently. "Good," Fraser said when he'd finished. Taking the canteen
back, he set it by the fire. "Now, get back into bed." Ray looked
mutinous. "Please?" the Mountie tried. Ray sighed and climbed back into
the bags, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Fraser slid in
next to his partner. "Ray? What's wrong?" he asked gently. Ray didn't
answer for a moment. Then he rolled over on his side and faced his best
friend. 

 "Why?" he asked. 

 "Well, because you don't seem yourself." 

 "No." Ray shook his head. "I mean, why me and not Vecchio?" 

 "Ahh," Fraser said. He thought for a moment. "I'm not sure I can put it
into words." 

 "Try." 

 "Okay. Well, when I first came to Chicago ..." 

 "On the trail of your father's killers." 

 "Yes. Ray Vecchio was my contact at the 27th District." 

 "And helped you track down said killers." 

 "Yes. Along the way, he and I formed a friendship. A very good one, I
think." 

 "Yeah, I know about that. And I understand; ya know, he's ... he's a good
guy and all. Kind of hung up on himself in some ways, but he cares about
you. Anyone can see that." 

 "I thought I was explaining this." 

 "Right. Sorry." 

 "Anyway, as I was saying, Ray, Vecchio and I formed a friendship. He took
me into his family and his life. He made me feel welcome when my own
people were rejecting me. I owe him a lot." 

 "You solved all his cases." 

 "That's not true," Fraser protested. 

 "I read the case files, remember? His solve rate quadrupled after you
showed up."  

 "I helped him, I think, to realize what his own abilities were. But
that's not important right now. What is important, is that Ray Vecchio and
I had a good friendship and a good working relationship." 

 "Ya know, this is not convincing me that you really wanna be my partner,
Frase." 

 "Well, perhaps if you'd stop interrupting ... Ray Vecchio and I worked
together for two years, then I went on vacation, he left and you entered
my life. And at first I didn't think it could work. People are not
interchangeable. I couldn't just replace Ray Vecchio and go blithely about
my business. Especially with a man who apparently thought I was so thick-
headed, I wouldn't be able to detect a rather startling change in the
appearance and behavior of my partner." Ray chuckled at that. 

 "You were supposed ta be briefed. Wasn't my fault." 

 "And of course, your lips and tongue were paralyzed throughout the day,"
Fraser commented sardonically. Ray tried to look appropriately repentant,
but the effect was somewhat less than convincing. Fraser just shook his
head and continued. "But then you stepped in front of that bullet ..." He
paused suddenly. "Ray?" The question was suddenly so obvious, he couldn't
believe he'd overlooked it until now. 

 "I wasn't trying to get killed specifically. I just figured if one of us
was going to get shot, I probably wouldn't mind as much, ya know?" Ray
offered in a low voice, understanding what was in the Mountie's mind. 

 "Right." Fraser reached up and put his hand on his partner's shoulder. "I
wish you had told me, Ray." 

 "Didn't know you then." 

 "What else did I miss?" 

 "Nothing ... well, I mean ...." Ray trailed off, not wanting to say any
more, but not wanting to lie to the Mountie either. 

 "What?" Silence. "Ray. Please." 

 "Well. That pirate thing." 

 "Go on." 

 "If that guy hadn't died on my car, after you hit ... we argued ... I was
gonna drop you off at the Consulate, go home and eat my gun." Ray rolled
onto his back again, not wanting to see the look in the Mountie's eyes.
"Ya sure ya don't wanna take it all back? Go back to Vecchio after all?" 

 "Ray ..." Fraser didn't know what to say. He was horrified, realizing how
close he had come to losing his friend.  

 "If you want to, I'd understand. You didn't know how seriously fucked up
I was when you said that." Ray looked at Fraser. "I promise I won't off
myself. You'll be guilt free," he said quietly. 

 Fraser was silent for a moment, trying to decide how best to express his
feelings to his extremely vulnerable friend. Ray began moving away from
him, already resigned to the answer. The Canadian grabbed him and pulled
him back. The blond struggled, but Fraser quickly pinned the smaller man,
rolling on top of him. "Ray, whether you are 'fucked up' or not, you are
my partner. To finish what I was trying to tell you - when you and I
started working together, I found that we did, in fact, make an excellent
duet. And as the year has gone on, I have felt a bond with you that went
far beyond that of my friendship with Ray Vecchio. I thought I would have
more time before he returned; time to ... talk to you. And then when he
did return ... well I treated you appallingly, Ray, and I apologize for
that." 

 "C'mon. You hadn't seen the guy in over a year. He was your best friend."


 "Yes. He was." Fraser said simply, looking down at the blond. Ray thought
about that for a moment and offered up a tentative smile.  

 "Ya still haven't said why me." The Mountie looked at him for a moment,
then, taking a deep breath, he went on. 

 "No. I ... I have always told myself that I didn't need anyone else. That
I was sufficient unto myself and that as long as I behaved in a manner in
which I could take pride, that would be enough. When those about me lost
their heads over one emotional matter or another, my conceit was that I
was above them. And then Victoria came back into my life again. And I lost
my head. And caused a great deal of pain to those I cared most about. And,
I decided that I would never allow myself to do that again. That I could
not afford to do that again. That I must be some kind of ... freak of
nature, unworthy of loving or being loved." Ray started to interrupt, but
Fraser stopped him with a finger across his lips and continued. "So, I
rebuilt the walls around me and retreated into them. And refused to let
anyone get close to me. I even tried to push Ray Vecchio away. He wouldn't
go, but I decided that was his choice and his problem. And then you came
along." He looked fondly at the blond. "You wouldn't stay away, wouldn't
be kept outside the walls. You needed me and I wanted so badly to help
you. But the closer I got to you, the closer you got to me, and then I
began to crave that closeness, to need it in fact. It made me feel ...
whole." He briefly touched his forehead to the blond's and then pulled it
away again. "Early on, you called me a freak, and I thought, 'He knows.
How does he know?' And then as time went on, I realized you weren't using
the term in a derogatory fashion; that in fact, you seemed to like me for
my ... freakishness." He stopped again and looked at his partner. "And the
walls were breached." Ray was smiling, but there were tears in his eyes. 

 "Why didn't ya say something?" he whispered. 

 "I'm not very good at talking about my feelings."  

 "That's a fact," Ray agreed, but his tone was mild. "Frase?" 

 "Yes?" 

 "You're kind o' crushing me." 

 "Ah. Sorry." The Mountie rolled off to the side, still holding onto the
blond. "You are my partner, Ray. That is the truth. I expect that over the
years, professionally, I may have to work with a variety of other people,
but you are my partner. My father only ever had one partner. It's all I
need." He stroked Ray's forehead, and then ran his hand down to Ray's jaw,
holding it in place, looking into the pale eyes. "Please, don't ever do
anything like this to me again. If I hadn't reached you in time, I don't
know what I would have done." Ray heard the truth in Fraser's voice and
nodded, his eyes filling with tears.  

 "I'm sorry." 

 "It's all right. There were ... extenuating circumstances." 

 "Sorry for cryin' too. Worse than a girl," he said, trying to free his
arms, to wipe his eyes. 

Fraser pulled Ray into his chest.  

 "It's okay," he whispered soothingly, his mouth next to the smaller man's
forehead. "Actually, I've always been a bit jealous of your ability to
express your emotions." 

 "Now yer makin' fun of me." 

 "No. I'm not." He was gently rubbing Ray's back. "I might tease you, but
I would never make fun of you." 

 "Yeah, I know," Ray said. Then, "The emotion thing? It's not so hard, ya
know. It's just another kind of truth."  

 "I've never thought of it that way," Fraser said, surprised by the idea.
Both men lay quietly, thinking things over. The Mountie finally broke the
silence. "I am sorry, Ray. If I hadn't been so afraid to tell you how I
felt, we might not be here now." 

 "Why didn't you?" 

 "I was afraid. I was afraid I would scare you away, if you knew how much
I needed you." 

 "Kind o' backfired, there." 

 "Yes. It certainly did," Fraser admitted ruefully.  

 "Ben?" 

 "Yes." 

 "I love you," Ray said softly. 

 "And I you." They looked at each other, both waiting for the other to
qualify that statement. Neither did. Ray nodded after a moment and lowered
his head, lying on his partner's chest, listening to that steady
heartbeat. Fraser held him there, wrapping both arms gently around the
slender frame. They both relaxed into the embrace. The wind continued to
howl outside, but they remained protected from it, inside the shelter.
Eventually, Fraser became aware that the blond had fallen asleep. He
carefully, eased the covers back up around the smaller man, tucking him
in, protecting him. He could feel Ray's breathing and was encouraged by
the steady in and out. He thought about what they had said to each other.
Ray loved him. The thought both warmed Fraser and terrified him at the
same moment. It had been one thing to contemplate his own feelings. That
was almost analytical. Logical, even. But to think they might be
reciprocated ... that was going to take him far beyond logic. He thought
about the heady feelings he'd had with Victoria, his last love, and the
frightening power she'd held over him. Ray had power over him, too. But it
was different. This was a quieter feeling. Holding Victoria had been
exciting, dangerous. Holding Ray was peaceful. It brought ... contentment?
... happiness? Fraser wasn't certain he had the experience to describe
what he was feeling, but he was hopeful that he might find out. His arms
tightened reflexively around his partner. Ray murmured something in his
sleep and squirmed marginally closer. Fraser kissed him on the top of his
head and allowed himself to go back to sleep as well. 

  

 Both men slept soundly for several hours. On waking, Fraser, got up and
checked the ventilation and then added more wood to the fire. He noted
that Diefenbaker was gone and assumed the wolf had gone out to relieve
himself. The storm was could still be heard raging above. He looked
through their food supplies. With the cold, they were going to need more
food. Their bodies required extra fuel to stay warm. Between he and Ray,
they had brought a fair amount of pemmican, which he thought he might get
Ray to chew if he softened it up some. Right now, the blond was in no
shape to eat it as it was. Furthermore, the wolf was going to require
something more by way of sustenance. He shook his head. Obviously they
would have to find something, but in this weather most of the game would
have taken to shelter. He would discuss it with Diefenbaker when the wolf
returned. 

 He reached into the sleeping bags and gently removed the canteen behind
Ray's back, replacing it with the one he'd left by the fire. Ray muttered
in his sleep, but stayed put. Fraser drank some of the water and then
emptied the rest of it over near the entrance. He poured in the warmer
water and tucked that canteen back in with his sleeping partner, as well.
Refilling the pot with snow, he placed it back on the fire. He dug a small
hole over near the entrance and relieved himself, covering it back up with
snow. He sighed to himself, at the thought of explaining the "facilities"
to Ray. Still, Kowalski had said he wanted to go on an adventure. This
would be part of it. He moved back, and resolutely did not watch the pot
boil. Eventually, he peeked and was rewarded with bubbling water. He
poured in the contents of a bag from his supplies and moved it off the
heat, stirring and watching. When it was ready, he moved to wake his
partner. 

 "Tired." 

 "I know, Ray. Just wake up for a few moments. Then you can go back to
sleep." 

 "'S cold." 

 "I know," Fraser repeated patiently. Ray's skin felt much warmer to the
touch, initially. But as the blond sat up and drank, Fraser noted that his
temperature cooled. His body was not yet producing its own heat. The
smaller man was still ill and still in a great deal of danger. Dief chose
this moment to reappear. In his mouth, he bore something furry and dead.
He dropped it by the fire and sat back, looking proudly at his person.
Fraser smiled gratefully, looking at the hare, his eyes full of tears. The
wolf whined and pointed his jaw at Ray, who was still leaning against the
Mountie, his eyes closed. "Thank you," Fraser whispered to him. "Thank
you, kindly." Diefenbaker licked his jaw clean and returned to lie by the
sleeping bags, nudging Ray as he passed by.  

 "Hey, Dief," the blond said, yawning. "Nice o' ya ta drop by." The
Mountie carefully helped Ray lie back down, covering him up. Diefenbaker
moved in closer, while Fraser turned to the hare and set about skinning
and gutting it. He stripped a branch and speared the meat, balancing it
carefully over the fire, where it could cook. Then he returned to the
sleeping bags, to help keep Ray warm. The blond was sound asleep, curled
up against the wolf. Fraser wrapped himself around the smaller man's back
and rested there.   

 He roused Ray two more times to drink before judging that the hare was
ready to eat. Again, he carefully sat Ray up, wrapping his coat around
him. 

 "What's that?" the blond asked suspiciously, watching Fraser prepare
their meal. 

 "Hare." 

 "What?" 

 "Hare ... like rabbit." Looking at the blond's dubious expression, the
Mountie sighed. "It tastes a great deal like chicken." 

 "Ya ever notice that's what people always tell you when they're feedin'
you somethin' weird? No one ever says it tastes like steak or a hot dog or
shrimp or anything. It's always chicken." 

 "Ray." 

 "What?" 

 "Diefenbaker went out into the storm to fetch that especially for you. A
small repayment, I suspect for the many doughnuts, the two of you didn't
think I noticed you feeding him." The guilty look that passed between the
blond and the wolf was ignored except for a slight quirk at the edge of
the Mountie's mouth. Just managing to maintain his stern countenance, he
continued. "I think that the least you could do, out of sheer politeness,
is to try his gift before rejecting it." He lifted his eyebrows at his
partner. Ray sighed and reached for the piece of rabbit being held out to
him. He nibbled at the edge and then, shrugging, ate an actual bite.  

 "Well?" 

 "Tastes a lot like chicken," Ray admitted, grinning. They ate quietly.
Diefenbaker refused the piece Fraser offered him. The Mountie smiled,
realizing that more than one hare had met its death that day. When Ray had
finished eating, Fraser made him drink some more water. The blond balked. 


 "I'm full of water," he said in a low voice. 

 "Then you should relieve yourself, because you are going to drink more." 

 "Go outside?" 

 "No. By the entrance there. Outside would be dangerous." 

 "I can't go in here." 

 "You have to Ray. It's no different than using a urinal in the men's
room." 

 "That's not it ... but, we're sleeping in here, Frase." 

 "It won't smell. Not in this cold. This is part of what you'll have to
get used to if you want to go on your adventure." The blond looked at him
for a moment, then sighed and struggled out of the sleeping bags. He
crawled over to the spot the Mountie had indicated. Fraser politely turned
away, tending to the fire. Ray came crawling back a few minutes later. He
sat on top of the sleeping bags.  

 "In," Fraser ordered him. 

 "Out." Ray was feeling cranky. 

 "In," the Mountie insisted, gently. "You're still very sick, Ray.
Please?"  

 "Wanna go outside and look." Fraser sighed. His partner was becoming
irrational again. 

 "You'll have plenty of opportunities later, Ray. I promise." 

 "What if I don't?" whispered. Not irrational; afraid, Fraser revised his
opinion, as he moved over to take his partner back into his arms. 

 "You have to trust me, Ray. You've done it before. Please. Just let me
take care of you. Let me get you through this." Pale blue eyes looked
searchingly into darker blue ones. "We will go on that adventure, I
promise." The blond nodded and curled himself into Fraser's chest. The
Mountie thought his heart would burst with the emotions pounding through
it. He tightened his grasp around the smaller man. "I promise," he
repeated in a whisper. After a few moments, he guided Ray back into the
sleeping bags, following a few minutes later. The blond immediately slid
into his embrace. Fraser started to pull the sleeping back up over their
heads. 

 "I'm not ready ta sleep yet." 

 "We can talk in the dark," Fraser pointed out. 

 "Oh. Yeah."  

 "We'll need to take some time off to go on this adventure," Fraser
remarked. 

 "S'what I was thinking." 

 "I can apply for a year's unpaid leave. I suspect that after this
incident, they'll be inclined to grant it." 

 "That has ta be the understatement of the decade," Ray chuckled. He
thought for a moment. "I think we got the same thing in Chicago. Never
really looked, but it sounds familiar." 

 "So we apply for our leave and ..." 

 "Go look for the hand." 

 "Yes." 

 "And figure us out?" the last was said very quietly. 

 "Yes, that as well," Fraser acknowledged. Both men lay still, pondering
that. 

 "I like this," Ray finally confided. 

 "What?" 

 "Bein' held. I ... I like it a lot. Feels ... really safe and warm ...
inside." 

 "I'm glad, Ray. I like this too." 

 "I wouldn't wanna disappoint you." 

 "You won't, Ray. Just be yourself, and you won't." 

 "You're the only person who's ever thought that." 

 "Perhaps you need to start hanging around with more perceptive people,"
Fraser said, smiling, as he brushed his lips against the blond's forehead.
Ray chuckled.  

 "Yeah. That's it." He yawned. 

 "Try to sleep for a bit." 

 "'S'all I do." 

 "You need it. And, realistically, this is all we could do in a storm like
this anyway." 

 "So, we could end up camping like this again?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Sounds nice," whispered. 

 "I think so, too," Fraser whispered back. The blond snuggled a bit closer
and Fraser could feel him fumbling at the bottom of his shirt. He was
puzzled until he felt a cool hand move up his torso and towards his
armpit. He smiled and lifted his arm, allowing Ray the access. The blond
tucked his hand in and rested his head on Fraser's other arm. The Mountie
held him, happily, listening as his breathing deepened and he slipped off
to sleep. He followed shortly, content and at peace with his surroundings.
 

 When he woke again, he automatically checked on Ray. The blond was still
curled against him. Fraser gently disengaged himself and reached into the
sleeping bags for one of the canteens. Pulling it out, he set it aside and
shook his partner. There was no response. 

 "Ray?" Nothing. The blond was still breathing, but it seemed to have
slowed. Fraser forced himself to swallow down his panic. "Ray?" he tried
again, gently slapping his cheek. A low mumble. "Come on, Ray." He pulled
him into a seated position. "You need to drink this. Wake up, Ray. You
have to wake up." He cajoled and bullied until the blond's eyes opened
partially. "Drink." He helped Ray to drink, noticing that his partner was
having difficulty swallowing. Then he eased the smaller man back down on
his back. Dief whimpered. Fraser tried to smile at the wolf, but he was
having a hard time of it. Ray mumbled and twisted. Fraser quickly refilled
the canteen with hot water from the fire and tucked it back down next to
Ray. Then he slid in next to his partner, taking him into his arms,
pulling the sleeping bags back over their heads. Ray fought it briefly and
then subsided. After a moment, he stirred.  

 "Frase?" 

 "Yes, Ray?" 

 "I feel funny." 

 "You're cold, Ray." 

 "Oh. Yeah." He burrowed in slightly closer to the Mountie.  

 "You just have to hang on a little while longer, Ray. The storm will end
soon and they'll send a helicopter for us. Please." 

 "Have ta. Wanna go on the adventure." 

 "As do I. More than anything else I have ever wanted." 

 "Yeah?" 

 "Yes." 

 "Cool." He moved his head to rest on the Mountie's shoulder. They lay in
silence for awhile. Fraser felt tears running down his own face. Ray was
losing his fight. The blond was stronger than most gave him credit for,
but he was losing this battle. 

 "Frase?" 

 "Shhh," the Mountie soothed him, trying not to reveal his thoughts
through his voice. 

 "I'm good," Ray whispered, understanding his fear anyway. 

 "Oh, Ray." 

 "Sing ta me?" 

 "All right." Fraser thought for several minutes before the right song
occurred to him. He took a deep breath to bring his voice under control,
and then began singing:  

We live in fear of no one to love us 

Of feeling like an empty hole 

With no kind heart or strengthening hand 

To light the dark and secret soul. 

Behind the walls of lonely protection 

Afraid to give for what we may lose, 

And to hide our sin, or let someone within, 

Everyone will have to choose!  

Put your life on the line, 

Give your hand and pledge your time 

To the love whose lips inflame you 

Like some ancient and golden wine; 

And to all it's a start in fulfilling greatest needs in part, 

For in whatever we dream of what we some day want to be  

It's a matter of heart.  

We like to think we know what we're doing  

We always like to be in control. 

The rational mind rules the passionate heart 

Is what the ancient sages told. 

But that can sound a little bit hollow, 

When you're sitting by the fire alone! 

And the rarest old wine tastes of ashes and brine, 

When you've no one there to keep you warm.  

He repeated the chorus, softly. Ray nudged him to continue. Fraser smiled,
and did.  

The way in which our pride will stall us 

When we know we should be losing control, 

Puts us in the fear of falling and we let it go! 

Our careful words are self-deceiving  

Though we like to call them 'pretense' and 'art,' 

But every old line is held in the mind	

When it's really just a matter of heart.  

 "I like that," Ray whispered. The Mountie tilted his head down and kissed
his partner gently on the forehead and then, lightly, on the lips. Nothing
was said. Nothing needed to be. Ray closed his eyes again and settled his
head against Fraser's chest, positioning his ear over the Canadian's
heart. In this position, he quickly drifted off to sleep.   

 The rescue team led by Inspector Thatcher arrived approximately 12 hours
later. Ray had been unconscious for the last five. They carefully loaded
him onto the helicopter, Fraser holding his hand through the entire trip.
They pried it from him at the hospital; leaving the Mountie standing at
the end of the hallway, blinking back tears as they rolled Ray away from
him. Thatcher and Frobisher were there, leading him back to the lounge,
making sure that he was never left alone through the long waiting period
that followed.	 

 "You can see him now," one of the doctors finally told Fraser. The
Mountie nodded and went quickly into the room, terrified they would change
their minds.  

 Ray lay in the bed, surrounded by tubes and machinery. Fraser closed his
eyes briefly, fighting back the tears. Taking a deep breath, he approached
the bed and looked down at his partner. Funny, he thought to himself, how
much pleasure he usually found in watching Ray sleep. Funny, how now it
wasn't funny at all. Tentatively, he reached out and took one of Ray's
hands in his own. Long fingered, delicate and cold, it just lay in his
palm. There was no reaction at all. The blond lay unmoving, except for his
chest. Air in. Air out. A machine controlled that. Other machines pumped
his blood out, warmed it and returned it to his body. 

 "I'm so sorry, Ray. This is my fault," Fraser whispered. He reached up
with his other hand and touched the blond hair, laying flat against the
scalp. That was wrong, he thought absentmindedly, trying to push it up. He
closed his eyes again, unable to stand the image before him for another
minute. *Oh God,* he thought. *What have I done? All it would have taken
was a few moments to just reassure him that he was still my partner. How
much I cared Just a few moments and a pocketful of courage.* He opened his
eyes, looking through his tears, at the still body in front of him.
Suddenly he found himself wishing for his father, needing to reaffirm that
there was a life after death. "Help me, please," he whispered. "I can't do
this. I can't ... take this." 

 "It's not me you need to be talking to." Startled, Fraser looked up. His
father was standing on the other side of the bed. 

 "Dad?!" stunned. 

 "Close your mouth son. It's not your most intelligent look." 

 "What ... how? I thought you were gone." 

 "Well, that was the idea. But you know ... we heard you calling. You
didn't have to yell so loud, you know." Robert Fraser looked down at the
still form in the bed. "It's the Yank you should be calling though. Not
me." 

 "What do you mean?" 

 "On some level, he's still in there." 

 "Oh, that's just ... great. Very reassuring, Dad. 'Some level.'" His
thumb was flicking nervously along his eyebrow. 

 "Look at me!" his father commanded. Startled, the younger man looked up.
"I'm dead Ben." 

 "I had noticed," Ben snapped, wondering why he had ever thought his
father would be able to provide some solace. Robert Fraser sighed. 

 "You're not thinking, son," he said in a patient voice. You're too caught
up in your own guilt. You'll have to let go of that if you're going to
help your partner." 

 "How can I help him? Look at him. The doctors say ... they say ..." 

 "What do they know? Would you give up on him, just because someone told
you he was lost in the wilderness?" 

 "Of course not, but ..." 

 "Of course not," his father cut him off. "You'd go looking for him until
you found him. Well, think of the Yank as lost. Oh, not in the wilderness,
exactly, but lost just the same. He needs you to show him the way home." 

 "But ... can I do that?" 

 "Well, you got through to me, didn't you? And as you're overly fond of
pointing out, I am dead. Call him, son. Show him the way home." Ben looked
down at his partner and then back up. His father was gone. 

 "Thank you, Dad," he whispered.. Looking back down at his partner, he
twined his own fingers between Ray's pale slender ones. "Hello, Ray," he
said. "It's Ben. I need you to listen to me. You're safe now, Ray and
you're going to be fine. I promise." With his other hand, he stroked the
cool cheek and then the blond's forehead. "I know you can hear me, Ray. I
know you're there, somewhere. But ..." He took a deep breath before
continuing. "But, I need you to come back to me. I ... I need you here
with me." He went on, reminding Ray that they had plans, that an adventure
awaited them, that Diefenbaker needed his junk food source, telling his
friend everything that he could think of, all the while holding his hand
and caressing his face. The doctor came in to tell Fraser his time was up,
but after watching him for a few minutes, decided against it. A nurse came
in to check Ray's vitals and returned a short time later with a carafe
full of water and a glass. Fraser smiled gratefully and kept talking. When
his voice became hoarse, he would take a break and drink some water and
then return to talking. When the water failed to revive his voice, he
whispered. He talked for hours, about everything he could think of that
might interest his partner. Finally, he had to stop. "I need to take a
break, Ray. I will be back in just a few minutes. I promise." He gently
released the cold hand and stepped away from the bed watching. Air in, air
out. No change. Swallowing the large lump in his throat, he turned and
stumbled into the bathroom. After using the facilities, he turned to the
sink. Looking at his reflection in the flourescent light was very
discouraging ... not, he thought, that natural lighting would be any
better at this moment. He splashed water on his face. He was so tired, he
thought. He wanted nothing more than to go lie down somewhere and sleep.
But what if Ray was listening and he left. What if the blond remained lost
forever? Fraser closed his eyes in pain. The thought of that vibrant
personality locked away in that still body horrified him. He took a deep
breath, dried his face and returned to Ray's bedside. Ray was lying just
as the Mountie had left him. Fraser gave a wry smile at his illogical hope
of returning and finding his partner awake and waiting for him. He walked
over to the bed and reached down for Ray's hand ... and started. It had
moved. The fingers were stretched out, as though reaching for something
... or someone. Fraser glanced up at Ray's face. No change there. Then
back at the hand. "I'm back, Ray," he said in the calmest voice he could
muster. "I need you to wake up ... to come back to me. Please, don't leave
me, Ray. I need you." Picking up Ray's hand, he held it up against his
chest and leaned down, resting his head against the blond one. "I love
you, Ray," he said in a low voice. The hand in his twitched. "Ray!?"
Fraser was afraid to stir. The hand twitched again. "Come on, Ray. Wake
up. I know you can hear me. Please, wake up." No response. He began
talking again. Straightening up again, he continued holding his partner's
hand, while stroking his face, forehead and hair. "You have to come back,
Ray. You and I, we're partners. A ... duet, as you once informed me. I
know you can hear me, Ray. Please wake up Ray. Please come back to me." A
slight moan. Fraser caught his breath. Nothing. "Come on, Ray. Please,
just open your eyes. Look at me, Ray. Look at me. You can do it." The
blond moaned again, his face contorting into a frown. "Open your eyes,
Ray. Look at me." Fraser fought to keep his voice calm and even; fought to
keep the anxiety out of it. "You're almost here, Ray. Come on. Look at me.
You can do it. Open your eyes," he begged. The eyelids fluttered. "Please,
Ray. Please, for me. Please open your eyes." Another moan and, slowly, Ray
opened his eyes. He looked up at Fraser, confusion and fear strong in his
face. Fraser took in a deep breath of relief. A wave of dizziness passed
over him and he fought it off. "Hello, Ray," he said warmly. The blond
just watched him. "You're in the hospital. You've been unconscious, but
you're going to be fine." He stroked the fine hair. "You're going to be
fine, Ray." The smaller man's eyes were clearing as he focused on his
partner. He tried to talk and choked on the tube in his throat. A panicked
look surfaced in his eyes. "It's a respirator. Take it easy. We'll get the
doctor in here. It's just been there to help you breathe. It's all right."
The pale blue eyes looked up at him, uncertainly. Fraser smiled. "It's
going to be all right. You're going to be fine," he said soothingly, as he
reached for the call button.  

 The doctor arrived, bringing several other people, pushing the Mountie to
the side. "I'm still here, Ray," he assured the blond, stepping back to
let the staff do their work. Ray's eyes followed him, until the doctors
drew his attention back to them. They checked him over, consulted and
finally decided to remove the tube. Ray coughed it out, as they told him
to. When they'd finished and were satisfied, they began to drift out of
the room, one by one, congratulating each other on a job well done. The
last one to leave the room, looked at the Mountie.  

 "He really needs to sleep. I'm letting you stay, because he obviously
wants you to." Fraser looked startled and the doctor smiled. "Every time
we moved back, he looked to see where you were. He seems to find your
presence reassuring. So, stay with him, but try to make him sleep." 

 "I will," Fraser agreed with alacrity. 

 "Okay, then. Ring if anything changes." 

 "Certainly. And ... thank you, kindly, Doctor." 

 "My pleasure. It's cases like this that keep me practicing medicine. I've
always been a sucker for a happy ending. Let's make sure we have one
here." Fraser smiled at her in full agreement, and then moved over to
stand next to his partner again. 

  

 "Frase?" Ray whispered. The Mountie had to lean in to hear him. 

 "Shh, don't talk. It's all right. You're safe." 

 "We find the hand?" 

 "No. Next time." 

 "'Kay." The blond gave him a weak smile. "Tired," he said. 

 "You should rest." 

 "Stay?" 

 "Yes." Ray smiled again as his eyelids slowly fluttered closed. Fraser
picked up his partner's hand, noting that it still wasn't as warm as it
should be, and with his other hand, began to slowly stroke the blond hair.


 "So, you found him." Ben looked up to find his father standing there
again. 

 "Yes," the younger Fraser said. "I found him. Thank you." His father
shrugged it off, but Benton could tell from his expression that he was
pleased. "I ... uh ... I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't
... come back." 

 "Oh, you'd have survived son. But, it would have left a hole in your life
that nothing would ever fill, a loneliness that would never go away.
Believe me, it's not a feeling you'd want to have to live the rest of your
life with, but it's survivable." He shook his head sadly. 

 Ben was puzzled. "But you didn't lose your partner. He lost you." 

 "I'm not talking about Buck Frobisher, son. I'm talking about your
mother. Losing someone you love that much ... well I really don't want to
see you have to go through that, Ben." 

 "You're comparing the way I feel about Ray, to the way you felt about
Mom?" 

 "You don't agree?" 

 "Well, I'm ... not sure. I guess I just didn't think you would." 

 "I'm dead, not narrow minded." Robert Fraser said in exasperation. "I
told you a long time ago that you needed the Yank." He smiled at his son,
fondly. "It's high time you settled down." Ben's mouth was hanging wide
open. "Your mother and I ... we just want you to be happy, son. He's not
quite what we were picturing, mind you," nodding at Ray, "But if he's what
makes you happy, then he's what we want for you." 

 Benton was gathering his thoughts to try to reply to this astounding
statement, when a noise from the bed distracted him. He looked down,
quickly. Ray's eyes were open. 

 "Who ya talkin' to?" the blond whispered. 

 "Ah ... myself?" Fraser suggested. 

 "Oh." He felt the hand in his move, and then Ray's slender fingers were
wrapped around his. 

 "I was ... uh .. lost, ya know? In all this snow. An' I didn't know where
I was. Couldn't find my way back." 

 "I know. I found you." 

 "No. Not then. After." 

 "I don't follow you." 

 "I was lost. An' I was ... scared, but then there was this woman an' she
told me to listen. That someone would come lookin' for me. Then, I heard
you callin' my name. Sounded like you were really far away. So I just
started walkin' and followed your voice. Then I was here. Weird, huh?"
Fraser looked at him oddly.  

 "The woman?" 

 "Real pretty. Long hair, sort o' reddish, big coat, furry boots. She kind
o' looked familiar. Somethin' in the eyes. Kind o' like yers. What's
wrong?" suddenly, recognizing the tears forming in Fraser's eyes. 

 "Nothing, Ray. Nothing at all. In fact, everything is right." 

 "Yer a freak." 

 "Thank you kindly, Ray." 

 "Anytime. S'what partners are for." 

 "Yes, it is. You should rest now." 

 "Frase?" 

 "Yes, Ray?" 

 "I love you," the blond said, simply. 

 "I love you too, Ray." He leaned down and kissed his partner, gently. 

 "'Kay. That's all right, then." Ray's eyes shut again, but he didn't
loosen his grip on Fraser's hand. As the Mountie watched though, he could
see the blond's features relaxing as he fell asleep. He gave a happy sigh.
Ray looked so peaceful. Fraser grinned, suddenly. He was taking pleasure
from watching his partner sleep. His world was right, again. 

   

Epilogue  

 Ray sat in the airport three weeks later, Fraser at his side. 

 "I don't wanna go," the blond said quietly. "Why can't I stay here with
you?" 

 "You know why. You'll heal a lot faster down there. The weather is
warming up in Chicago. It's still too cold for you up here. You need to be
healthy before we can start on our adventure." He put an arm around the
smaller man, pulling him closer. Ray leaned over, willingly. He had lost a
shocking amount of weight in the course of the last few weeks and was
still quite weak. Fraser really didn't want to let him out of his sight,
but he knew he had to. He couldn't leave Canada yet; too many loose ends
that needed to be tied up with Muldoon, to make sure that he and his
associates were properly prosecuted and punished for their crimes. He kept
reminding himself that Ray would be in good hands in Chicago. Francesca
and Lieutenant Welsh had both promised to keep an eye on him. "We'll put
in for our leaves," he continued. "And as soon as they're approved and
you're healthy, you'll come back here and we'll go." 

 "I want to see your world." 

 "And I want to share it with you. But it can be a very dangerous and
harsh place under the beauty. So, you need to get well first." Ray looked
mulish. They'd had this discussion a lot over the past few weeks, but
Kowalski wasn't ready to concede it quite yet. The man behind the counter
announced Ray's flight was boarding. Fraser stood, bringing Ray to his
feet, and walked him to the plane. They stood at the foot of the stairs. 

 "I could just stay indoors," Ray pleaded. "Next ta the fire."	

 "I wish you could, Ray, but the doctors said no." He pulled the smaller
man into an embrace, holding him tight. 

 "Don't make me go, please." 

 "You'll be fine, Ray. It's only for a short time. I promise." Fraser
frantically tried to think of just the right thing to say to reassure his
partner. Then he remembered. "I give my hand and I pledge my time to you,
Stanley Raymond Kowalski." He pulled back slightly and looked carefully
into the pale blue eyes. Kowalski was briefly puzzled and then figured it
out. 

 "That's the song ... the one you sang ta me." 

 "Yes," Fraser nodded smiling back. Ray looked back into his eyes and then
nodded and smiled. 

 "I give my hand and pledge my time to you as well, Benton Fraser." At the
sharp harrumph of the pilot, waiting at the top of the stairs, the two men
reluctantly stepped apart. Ray climbed the steps slowly, while Fraser
watched from below, wanting nothing more than to call the blond back. He
stepped back as the stairs were moved away, watched Ray in the window;
watched the plane back away, taxi down the runway and take off. He told
himself that it was all right. Ray would soon return and they would go off
and look for the hand of Franklin. But Fraser knew he had already found
the hand that mattered most.   

To be continued ...  

Comments? Feedback? Suggestions? katapult@gateway.net