DS Characters ... not mine, alas. Alliance's. Crooks and doctors are all
mine though.  

The book referred to is Farley Mowat's "Ordeal by Ice" (Highly
recommended!)  

Spoilers - COTW - also, some liberties taken with the "epilogue" portion
of COTW , so sort of AUish (it's a word ... really!)  

Name and origin of the turtle - from a long ago challenge on Serge 

This is the seventh in the "Mask Slip" series (which didn't start out as a
series ... so it doesn't trace back without the following list ...) It
will work all right without reading the rest - but some parts will make
more sense if you've read the others. 

1. The Mask Slips 2. Seeking (&) Understanding 3. Fast Friendship 4.
Staying Power 5. Gift of Fate 6. A Matter of Heart - and now this one. 

To all the lovely people who wrote and asked when this would be posted -
thank you as well! It was nice to know people were still interested. I
apologize for the many delays. I really didn't intend to leave the guys
separated for so long. (There's this whole silly RL thing ... really gets
in the way of good fic sometimes!) Hope you find it worth the wait.   
Solo	

Ray Kowalski stood in the doorway, suddenly uncertain. Everything looked
the same and yet, it was completely different. He watched for a moment.
Huey and Dewey were having a conversation, oddly punctuated by Huey
mimicking drum roll motions. Franny was talking on the phone and frowning
at her computer screen. The janitor was mopping the floor and inching
closer to Ray by the second, and Welsh was in his office sounding off to
some unfortunate soul. It was with extreme reluctance that Ray turned to
view his old desk. Vecchio wasn't there and for a brief moment, Kowalski
felt relief, as though maybe it was all a dream and if he turned around,
Fraser would be standing behind him. But then that would mean that the
rest of it had been a dream. Right now, he wasn't sure which would be
worse. Being here alone, without Fraser, or not having shared the time
with Fraser in the snow shelter. God, he missed the Mountie.  

Frannie hung up the phone, muttering "Needlehead" under her breath. The
blond smiled. At least one thing would never change. 

"That's pinhead," he corrected. 

"Pin, needle, thread. What's the big deal?" she said looking up with a big
smile, that belied the sarcastic tone of her voice. She jumped up and
enveloped him in a hug. "It's about time! Where ya been? I've been worried
sick! How come you didn't answer my calls!" 

"Whoa! One question at a time," Ray said, laughing and hugging her back.
"I've been stayin' with my folks since I got back. Didn't go home 'til
last night." 

"All right. I forgive you then."  

"Thank you ... kindly." She stepped back. 

"Are you all right?" she asked, surveying him with a critical look. 

"Yeah. Gettin' better every day," he assured her. 

"Ve ... Kowalski!" 

"Our master's voice," Franny whispered. Ray grinned.  

"Hey Lieu." He walked into the office, sidestepping the hapless recipient
of Welsh's tirade fleeing the office. Inside, Ray stood in front of the
Lieutenant's desks  

"How ya doin'?" Welsh asked, looking the blond up and down. Ray's skin
still had an unhealthy looking pallor and he was obviously underweight. 

"Don't even try ta tell me you're ready to come back to work," the
Lieutenant advised the younger man. 

"Yup. Got my medical clearance right here." The blond fished a crumpled
letter out of his pocket and handed it over. Welsh glanced at him sharply,
then put on his glasses and began to read. After a minute, he looked up,
over his glasses, giving the blond a skeptical look. 

"And if I call this Leighton guy, I'm gonna find out he's a legitimate
doctor, right? AMA and all that?" 

"Yes, Sir," Kowalski said with a faint smile. The Lieutenant pursed his
lips, clearly not quite satisfied. He looked back at the letter and then
back at the blond. Finally, 

"All right. Though, personally, I think you look like Hell." 

"Thank you, Sir," with an impudent grin. "It's good to see you too." Welsh
looked at him sharply and then laughed, sitting forward and putting the
letter down on his desk.  

"Welcome back, Detective. I'll put you back on the schedule starting
Monday." 

"And my leave request?"  

"I'll have the paper work for you on Monday. Any idea when you want it to
start?" 

"No, Sir. Not exactly. I'm kind of waitin' on Fraser. He's got that trial
to get through." The Lieutenant nodded. 

"All right. I've got a friend in Personnel. If I ask, he'll hang on to it
until you do know and then push it through. The more notice he has,
though, the easier it will be." 

"Thank you, Sir." Welsh looked at him for a moment and then sighed. 

"There is one more thing." Kowalski picked up the tone of voice. 

"Yeah?" warily. 

"Your partner." 

"I don't need a partner." 

"Yes, you do. Constable Fraser is not here. Policy says you work with a
partner." Ray sighed, telling himself it was only temporary. 

"Who?" 

"Vecchio." 

"What?! No way. No. Don't do that. Do not do that to me." 

"Sorry. He's the only other detective without a partner and he's talking
about retiring at the end of the year, making you both short timers. I
don't see breaking up another team under those circumstances." Ray just
shook his head. He understood the logic, but still .... 

"Me and Vecchio - I ... I just don't know. I mean it's not that I really
have anything against the guy, but we weren't mixing so good the last
time, ya know? Like oil and water." 

"You're both professionals, Detective. I have complete faith that you will
be able to work out any difficulties. Now - rest this weekend. And eat
something!" he ordered as the blond stalked from his office.  

"Ray! Ray! Ray!" He spun around. Francesca was calling him. He waited as
she came up to him. "I ... just ... do you wanna come to dinner tonight?
Ma's been dying to see you. She wants a chance ta say thanks and
everything. You know, now that she can." Ray took a deep breath. 

"Thanks, Frannie, but I don't think I'm up for that just yet." 

"Come on. It'd make Ma happy. She likes nothing better than to feed a
skinny guy. She's been dying to have you over ever since I told her you
were comin' back. We couldn't before, 'cause everyone in the neighborhood
woulda known ya weren't really my brother, but now there's no reason we
can't. Please? She's just gonna nag me 'till you come." That brought a
smile to Ray's face. He laughed.  

"All right, all right. Gotta keep Mothers happy, right?" 

"Yeah." Frannie smiled. "Six. Be there or I'll come after ya!" 

"Yes, ma'am." Ray walked off, laughing.   

Kowalski showed up for work on Monday morning, feeling very apprehensive.
He'd spent the weekend trying to convince himself that he and Vecchio
would be fine working together. He'd known he would have to see Vecchio,
but he hadn't counted on this little twist. He knew it would mean a great
deal to Fraser for the two Rays got along, though, and intended to do his
best. After much hesitation, he had worn the flannel shirt the Mountie had
loaned him so many months before. Kowalski had come to look upon the shirt
as a kind of a shield. It reminded him that Fraser found him worthy, which
in turn made everything else easier to handle. When he walked into the
office, Vecchio was there waiting for him. Since he hadn't been at dinner
Friday evening, it was the first time the two had seen each other since
the shooting at the mall. Both men regarded each other uneasily for a
moment, then Vecchio sighed.  

"Hey, we both survived the Mountie. We oughta be okay, right?" 

"Yeah. Right." They continued to look at each other, unconvinced. 

"Coffee?" Vecchio suggested. "I can bring you up to speed on my ... our
... cases." 

"Sounds good," Kowalski allowed. The Italian tilted his head toward the
break room and the blond nodded and headed that way. As they left the
room, Francesca and Welsh, both watching from the latter's office, relaxed
and let out breaths they hadn't been aware they'd been holding.  

The initial peace did not last, however. By the end of the day they were
taking snide potshots at each other and by Thursday, the rest of the
precinct was taking bets as to how long it would be before they came to
blows.	

At the end of his first week back, Ray Kowalski sat alone in his apartment
watching his turtle, Evi. He was exhausted. Between trying to act healthy,
trying to maintain with Vecchio and trying desperately not to miss Fraser,
he was completely worn out. And this after only one week back at work. He
didn't know how he was going to survive the month or two this was supposed
to take. 

"I survived 36 years without him," he told the turtle. "I can do a couple
months." He hoisted his beer, saluting Evi. Evi did not reply. "God, I
can't even convince the turtle," he muttered. Tomorrow he was supposed to
go over and spend the day with his parents. They were leaving early Sunday
morning to return to Arizona. His mother's still healing bones were aching
in the damp Chicago air, and with Ray planning on leaving, there was no
real reason for them to stay in the city. They had offered to stay until
Ray left, but he had refused. Even though he logically knew the accident
that injured his mother hadn't been his fault, he still felt a certain
responsibility and under no circumstances did he want her suffering any
extra pain on his account. He wanted desperately to call Fraser; to hear
his voice, but knew that a call would only worry the Mountie. Fraser had
enough on his plate with the upcoming trial and dealing with all the
emotional aspects of Muldoon's arrest. The blond had tried to encourage
him to talk, but Fraser had only been willing to admit that it was
dredging up a lot of memories and he had a lot to sort through. Ray had
initially hoped that he would have to stay and testify at the trial, but
it had been decided, that due to his health, they would try to avoid it.
"Gotta be strong," Ray told himself. He glanced over at the carving Fraser
had made for him. "Dief's Pack," he whispered. He had to be an equal
partner. Ben deserved no less. Maybe there'd be a letter tomorrow, he
thought hopefully. Fraser wrote great letters. Ray could almost hear his
voice when he read them. He took another drink of his beer and then looked
at the bottle and back over at the carving. Sighing, he got up and went to
pour the rest of the beer down the sink.   

The second week of work didn't go any better. Vecchio came in late Monday,
looking like he'd been through the wringer the night before, and found
Kowalski seated at his desk, looking through one of his files. Immediately
territorial, Vecchio crossed the room. "Looking for something? Or just
trying to make my desk the same disaster yours is?" he demanded. 

"Nice ta see you decided ta come in today. Work interferin' with yer life
or something?" Kowalski snapped back, all of his good intentions out the
window. 

"Yeah, well, that's the beauty of actually having a life." Watching
Kowalski's face, Vecchio knew that he'd gone too far. "Look, what ... what
do you need?" he asked, trying to step back. 

"Never mind." The blond got up and moved away.	 

Things did not improve between the two men as time went on. Francesca
frowned, watching them in the middle of yet another argument.  

"Oh, so that's your idea of a partnership," Vecchio said snidely. The
blond took a deep breath.  

"Look," he replied tersely. "I just ... I think if I talk to her again, I
can get her ta tell us what we need ta know. She trusts me. Just you can't
be there. She doesn't like you." 

"Whaddye mean, she doesn't like me?" 

"Yeah. What a shock. Must be your sparkly personality." Kowalski growled.
Vecchio glared at him. 

"So, what, I just sit aside and let you have all the credit?" 

"No. No. We're partners," the last came out a bit scornfully. "Share and
share alike." 

"Sure. Sharing. You're real big on sharing, aren't ya, Stanley." 

"What?" 

"You don't think I know what this is all about? You wanna break the case;
show everyone how good you are. This is all about proving you can make it
without Benny, isn't it? Guess what? You aren't half the man he is. And
wearing his shirt every day? That's not gonna help either." Kowalski
stiffened and looked at him for a long hard moment, then slowly backed up
one step and then another. He took a deep breath, holding his fists
tightly clenched at his sides.	

"What the Hell is your problem?" he demanded in a low tone. "Thought we
were supposed to be workin' a case. You don't like the idea? Fine. Come up
with another one. I don't care." He turned and walked away, half expecting
Vecchio to be right on top of him at any moment. //He's Fraser's friend.//
Kowalski kept telling himself. //I can't hit him.//   

"What are you doing?" Francesca demanded, cornering her brother 

"What?" 

"What are you doing? He's tryin' to get along with you and all you do is
dump all over him." 

"Oh and he's perfect?" 

"No. But he's the one that's alone. You've got your family. His is gone.
And you've got Stella." 

"Shh!" her brother said, looking around. "We haven't told him yet." 

"Yeah, I know," she said pointedly. "He's not stupid. He's gonna figure it
out, and how well do you think it's going to go over that you were
sneaking around behind his back." 

"It was her idea." 

"Oh, and I bet you fought her every step of the way." 

"He's got Fraser," Ray said, trying to sidestep that particular
discussion. 

"Is that what's buggin' you? He and Fraser are goin' off and doing
something without you? It's like you didn't get to have all the toys, so
yer gonna throw a tempter tantrum? That's mature," she said in a scathing
tone. 

"Look, he's drivin' me crazy, Frannie. No matter what I say, it sets him
off." 

"Oh, yeah. That crack about how he's not half the man Fraser is ... that
was real sensitive bro. That was real ... partner like." 

"Yeah, okay. I shouldn't've said that," Vecchio admitted. "But what about
him?" 

"He's a good guy, Ray. Give him a chance. You'd like him if you got ta
know him." 

"Why doesn't he have to try." 

"He does." 

"Then why're you talking to me?" 

"Because he's in the men's room and you aren't." 

"Oh." Frannie walked back to her desk and Ray watched her go, smiling. He
had to admit, he liked the "new" Francesca. Her job at the precinct had
alarmed him at first, but it seemed to have done her a world of good.
Kowalski came in and stopped by her desk. The Italian detective watched
the blond and his sister talk for a minute. He quickly bent his head to
his desk and was at least pretending to concentrate on his reports when
Kowalski came back towards him. 

"Look, Vecchio ...," the younger man started using a carefully modulated
tone. 

"I was way out o' line, Kowalski. I'm sorry. Look, you go talk to the
lady. I'll wait in that coffee shop on the corner. Then, if she comes
through, we can go bust the guy." 

"Yeah?" Kowalski looked at him suspiciously for a moment, wondering where
the sudden cooperation came from. Then he nodded and offered a tentative
smile. "Okay, then."   

The peace lasted three days. Both men came stalking into the precinct late
Thursday afternoon. The rest of the room immediately recognized the danger
signals and fell silent. The Rays were oblivious. 

"What the Hell do you think you were doing? You could've got us both
killed!" Vecchio yelled. 

"Yeah, well maybe if you'd actually been paying attention, we wouldn't got
in that situation in the first place. God. I was safer with the Mountie
and he didn't even carry a gun!" 

"Don't go there, Stanley." 

"Where? Towards the truth? Yer so busy having private conversations on yer
cell phone, yer not payin' attention to the job. And you an' Stella ever
plannin' on tellin' me what's going on, or did you just figure on sneakin'
around until I left town?" Vecchio was stunned for a moment, but rallied
quickly. 

"That's what this is really about isn't it?" he said in a nasty tone. "You
can't stand it that you lost her and I got her. You're just jealous." 

"Enough!" Frannie yelled. Startled, both Rays turned and stared at her.
She stood and signalled. Huey and Dewey each grabbed an arm and picked up
Kowalski and carried him out of the room. Welsh watched discreetly from
behind his blinds. Vecchio was smiling at the scene, when two other
detectives picked him up and carried him out in similar fashion. In short
order, both men were unceremoniously tossed into the supply closet. The
door was slammed behind them. "And yer not comin' out until you make
friends!" Frannie's voice was clear through the door.  

After a stunned moment, Vecchio reached up and pulled the light cord.
Kowalski stood as far away as he could get, watching his erstwhile partner
with an expression of anger. They just watched each other for a few
moments. Finally Vecchio sighed. 

"Look, I'm sorry. That ... ... the crack about Stella ... that was really
low and uncalled for." 

"Yeah. It was," Kowalski agreed.  

"Frannie's right. This doesn't make sense. We're both adults. We oughta be
able to make this work." 

"So why can't we?" 

"I don't know. Jealousy maybe?" 

"What? You think this ... this is all about Stella? Don't even try that
one. Do not. In the first place, I'm not in love with her anymore. I don't
like you sneaking around behind my back is all. That's just wrong. And
besides, you got her, so why should you be upset?" 

"No, not just Stella," Vecchio said, holding up his hands in a pacifying
gesture. He was silent for a few minutes, organizing his thoughts.
Kowalski waited, arms folded across his chest. "All right," Vecchio
finally said. "When I came back. Well first off, it was pretty sudden. I
didn't really have any time to think about it, ya know? And we kind of got
off on the wrong foot." 

"I get that. I been there, ya know. I've done undercover. Not like that;
bein' a mob guy an' all. But I know it can take awhile to ... readjust
back to yourself." 

"Okay. Good. So maybe you'll get this. At first, in the hotel, I was kind
of off balance. You know? My cover's been blown, but it hasn't. My gig is
over, but it isn't. Then when we finally get that sorted out and I get out
of the hospital, I'm back and everything should be going back to normal.
I'm real happy to be home, see my family and friends again. And I'm kind
of expecting ... I don't know ... maybe not the hero's welcome exactly ...
but somethin' because I've been gone, doing a really dangerous job. Only,
all anyone talks about is what a great guy my replacement is. Frannie
likes ya, Welsh likes ya, even Huey says nice stuff about you. And Benny,
the best friend I ever had in my whole life ... well, let's just say I can
tell he's got someone else on his mind all the time we're together. And
then. Then, I meet this amazingly wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman,
and even she keeps saying nice stuff about you. It's like I left and you
not only took over the life I had, but you even beat me to the life I'd
like to have!" Kowalski listened to all of this quietly. Vecchio watched
the blond as he turned the other man's words over in his mind.	

"Yeah. Okay. I get that," Kowalski finally said, thoughtfully. He was
silent again. Then, "Ya know, when I agreed ta be you ... I was in ... I
was in kind of a bad place, between the divorce and a couple o' cases that
didn't go so well. Anyway, they offered me this assignment, and I thought
it'd be a chance to do a good thing, and kind of ... well ... get away
from ... from ... me ... for awhile. So, suddenly I'm living this whole
new life. And it's an okay life. I mean, except for Frannie, I didn't
really get to spend much time with your family, 'cause it might've blown
your cover, but I really got to like havin' a ... a sister. It was ... it
was fun. And you got a great boss. I mean Welsh, he yells a lot, but ya
always know where ya stand with him. He's fair. And if he thinks you're
right, he's totally behind you. Most o' the guys here are pretty cool too.
And ... uh ... and there was Fraser. He's totally different from anyone I
ever met before. He's ... well he's really a good guy, ya know? Like in
the movies. The guy with the white hat." 

"Yeah." Vecchio agreed, finding that as good a description as any. 

"Yeah." Kowalski smiled, remembering, and Vecchio was struck by the
sweetness of that smile. "First I just figured, ya know, that, uh ... that
he was just pretendin' ta like me, for you an' all. I mean, everyone ...
everyone told me how tight the two o' you were. But then ... then I
started to think he might actually like me, just for me. And I ... I
needed that. Ya know? Fraser ... he's ... special." 

"That he is." Vecchio smiled, just thinking about it. Then he looked over
at the blond. "So, if Fraser liked us both, we must both be okay, right?
'Cause Fraser ... he's a good judge of character." 

"'Cept for that Metcalf woman." 

"Yeah, well, if the guy got out more, he might recognize a snake when it
bit him," Vecchio said darkly. "But you leave out the sex part, and his
judgement's always been good." Kowalski looked a little startled by that
comment, but let it go by. "So," Vecchio continued, "We know the people
here must like both of us, or they wouldn't have stuck us here in this
closet; they'd have just let us kill each other. And you got Fraser and I
got Stella. And both of 'em still like the other of us." 

"Stella hates me," in a low voice. 

"Nah. She gets mad at you sometimes, but trust me, Ray. She does not hate
you. She still cares a lot about you," Vecchio said gently. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. She was real worried when we heard you were sick up in Canada.
She's wanted to come by and see ya, but she's been afraid you'd get mad at
her for goin' out with me." 

"I kind o' was." The blond looked down, studying his hands. "See, I ...
uh, I liked yer life. Liked it a lot. And then you came back and I thought
... that's it. Game over. Fraser ... he was so happy ta see you at the
hotel ... it was like I wasn't even in the room. So, I uh ... I wasn't too
happy ta see you. I mean, I was glad you were safe an' all, but ... well
... you know. And comin' back, now, I know me and Fraser ... we're ...
good. But, he's not here and my parents are gone ... You got your life
back, but I don't have my old life or my new one ... and then hearin'
about you and Stella ..." Vecchio nodded, understanding. Kowalski looked
up again. "I still care about Stella, ya know? I know we're ... over, but
I can't just stop caring. I worry about her. I want her ta be happy." 

"So do I. Honest." The blond looked at him searchingly for a moment, then
slowly nodded. 

"Okay. I guess I can handle that. Yer a big improvement over that Orsini
guy anyway." Kowalski suddenly flashed an unsettling grin. "Of course, ya
hurt her, I'll kill you." Vecchio smiled, interpreting that as Kowalski's
blessing on his relationship, even while acknowledging from the look on
his face, that the blond was absolutely serious about the threat. 

"Understood," he said. They looked at each other self-consciously for a
moment.  

"There is one other thing," Vecchio finally said. 

"What?" warily. 

"The Riv?" 

"Oh, that." Kowalski waved a hand dismissively. "I did ya a favor. Stella
woulda hated that car." Vecchio stared in disbelief for a moment and then
laughed. The blond grinned at him. Then they fell silent again. 

"So ... now what?" 

"We try to work together? Stop taking potshots?" 

"I could go with that. Kind o' start fresh?" 

"Yeah." Vecchio smiled. "I've been reading up on some of your cases with
Fraser. I think we could do pretty well if we actually acted like
partners." Kowalski acknowledged that with a half smile. They were quiet
for a moment. Then Vecchio held out his hand. "Hi, my name is Ray Vecchio.
I understand we're gonna be working together." The blond looked at the
outstretched hand. After a brief moment, he reached out and shook it. 

"Hi. Ray Kowalski. Nice ta meet you." They took back their hands and
looked self-consciously at each other. 

"Will Frannie let us out now?" Kowalski finally asked. 

"Only if we beg," Vecchio said glumly. 

"You hungry?" the blond suddenly asked, a mischievous look on his face. 

"Yeah, why?"  

"Ta da!" Kowalski reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
"How do ya feel about pizza?" 

"In the closet?" 

"Maybe Frannie'll let us out if we offer to share." 

"You think you're gonna get the pizza past her?" 

"Oh yeah. I got pizza connections," the blond said confidently, while he
was dialing.  ****  

"Ray?" Kowalski looked up from his report. Stella was standing in front of
his desk, looking uncertain. It was the first time he'd seen her since he
and Vecchio had "come out of the closet" as Dewey insisted on putting it. 

"Hey, Stel. What's up?" 

"Do you have a minute?" 

"For you? Always! You know that." He flashed her a smile. If anything it
seemed to make her even more uncertain. 

"Could we go somewhere else? Somewhere ... more ... private?" 

"Uh ... sure. I ... uh, I already know 'bout you and Vecchio, though" he
said. 

"I know." She took a breath. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" 

"Yeah. Okay." He stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.
"If yer buyin' though, it's gonna be a good cup. Not from the machine!" 

"You're on," she said, finally smiling back.  

Seated at the corner coffee shop, she studied her latte, seemingly
fascinated by the foam. 

"Stella?" Ray asked gently. 

"Sorry," she blushed and then looked up at him. "Actually, that's what I
wanted to say. I'm sorry, Ray." 

"Fer what?" 

"For the way I've behaved for the last year. And for not telling you about
Ray Vecchio." 

"Ah." 

"You learned that from the Mountie," she commented dryly. "Vecchio does it
too." 

"Yeah. It's kind of handy. All purpose. Why?" 

"Why?" 

"Why were ya so mean? And why didn't ya tell me about Vecchio. I mean, I'm
working with the guy." His voice was even, but she could see the hurt
expression in his eyes. She shook her head, sadly. 

"I just .... Every time I let my guard down, you'd get this hopeful look
in your eyes and I really didn't want to do that to you either. I guess
somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that if I was a complete
bitch, you'd get over it sooner." 

"It doesn't work that way." 

"I know. And I really am sorry, Ray." 

"I still love you. I always will. That's never gonna change Stel. I fell
in love with you the minute I saw you. Ya don't just stop lovin' someone
'cause they're rude to you. I get mad sometimes and sometimes I even hate
you, but I can't stop caring." 

"I know. I still love you too, Ray. God, you were my first ... everything.
And I have no regrets about all those years. I really don't. I just think
we had preconceived notions about how we were going to grow up and how
things were going to turn out." 

"Yeah," Ray agreed, remembering. 

"And there were things you never told me, Ray. Never let me in on. I had
no idea that your father had beat you until your mother mentioned it a
couple of months ago. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me?" 

"Wasn't a matter of trust. Guy's supposed to take care o' the girl. Not
supposed to be weak." 

"Is that why you were able to tell Fraser? Because he's a guy, too?" 

"He ... uh, kind of caught me at a ... bad ... moment," Ray said, his eyes
shadowing at the memory. Stella reached out a hand and laid it over his. 

"I'm sorry, Ray. I don't think either of us was what the other needed. For
a long time all I could see was how you failed me. I thought I was all
right with you being a police officer, but then you started going
undercover, and that was really hard to deal with, especially after you
got shot. But you kept accepting more jobs. I'd just sit home every night,
terrified of the phone. The only thing that seemed to push back the fear
was concentrating on my job, so I did, more and more. I didn't know then
that I was failing you, too." She took a sip from her latte. 

"Ray Vecchio? He ... he is what you need?" her ex-husband asked after a
moment. 

"I don't know. We're taking it slowly. Both of us have ... issues. But I
like him. I like him a lot. It helps that he's retiring in less than a
year and he's promised not to go undercover again." 

"Yeah, that makes sense. He's ... uh ... he's a good guy." 

"Yes, I think he is. And I'm sorry we didn't tell you. It just ... well,
it seemed ... awkward, to put it mildly." 

"Oh, that's a fact." 

"Are you okay with it?" 

"Don't really have a choice, do I?" 

"I don't want to hurt you anymore, Ray." He looked at his coffee for a
moment and then back at her. 

"I'm gettin' okay with it."  

"Thank you," Stella said softly. 

"Sure." He started to stand. 

"You haven't finished your coffee." Ray looked at her uncertainly. 

"Thought we were done. Usually that's my clue ta split." 

"We could change that," Stella suggested shyly. "I really would like us to
be friends, if that's possible. You're too big a part of my past to just
... lose. Sit down. Talk to me. Tell me ... what it was like up north.
Your mother said you were going back." 

"You really want to know?" 

"Yes. I really do." He smiled and sat back down. 

"It was amazing up there, Stel. So ... big ... like ... like empty and
full at the same time."  *****	

"Vecchio! Kowalski!" Welsh called from his office. Both men, working
separately at their desks, looked up and then at each other, eyebrows
raised. "Today, gentlemen!" 

"We haven't done anything, have we?" Vecchio asked, getting up. 

"Just you threatening to smack that kid in the rear," Kowalski reminded
him.  

"Nah, that can't be it," Vecchio muttered. "Besides, he'd have deserved
it, after kickin' me in the shins."  

They entered the Lieutenant's office tentatively. Things had been going
better between them since their talk. They still had arguments, but at
least now they were productive and usually work related, rather than
sniping. A genuine respect was rapidly building between the two men. 

"Sit down," Welsh ordered. After they were seated, he continued. "I'm sure
you're aware of the recent rash of car thefts." 

"Uh ... last briefing notice mentioned that. Expensive, newer models,
taken from all over the city," Kowalski offered. 

"Couple of the vics felt they were being followed before the theft,"
Vecchio added. "We were wondering if that Mercedes day before yesterday
was part of it." 

"Quite possibly," Welsh said. "Last night the1-6 had a carjacking. Brand
new Jaguar. The victims thought someone was following them. They were
right." 

"And someone thinks the carjacking is connected to the thefts? Doesn't
really play. Usually burglars and car thiefs are trying to avoid contact
with people," Kowalski mused. Vecchio nodded his agreement. 

"Seems the Jaguar owner had reported an attempted auto theft last week.
Same car. He left work early because he wasn't feeling well. Found someone
trying to open his car door." 

"Could be coincidence," Vecchio said, playing devil's advocate. 

"Pretty big coincidence, though," Kowalski said, thoughtfully. 

"Precisely. And since the Jaguar owner is also a big campaign contributor,
the Mayor is taking a strong interest in the investigation," Welsh advised
them, leaning back in his chair. 

"How strong an interest?" Vecchio asked, warily. 

"Task force strong," Welsh said. Kowalski groaned. "You have an issue with
this, Detective?" 

"It's just that most task forces ... well, they sort of get too big ta
accomplish stuff."  

"That may be, but the words have such a nice ring when the Mayor announces
them to the press. The theory for now is that we'll all work separately
within our own districts, since we know those best, and pool all
information and reports. If it is the same people, they're escalating. We
want to get these guys before someone gets hurt. So far we've been lucky
that way." 

"So, we just keep up on the information unless something happens here?" 

"That and go through our stolen vehicle reports for the last three months.
Francesca's pulling them for you. See if you can find a pattern of some
kind. Do some asking around. Maybe they're targeting other areas to keep
away from their chop shop. I do want this investigated."  

"Yes sir," Vecchio said smartly, turning to leave. 

"Oh, and Vecchio?"  

"Yes sir?" 

"Next time a 10 year old kicks you in the shins, just arrest him for
battery on a peace officer. It's much easier for the department to justify
than a threat to 'smack him one,' no matter how much he may deserve it." 

"Yes Sir. I will try to remember that. Thank you, Sir." He could see
Kowalski trying to bite back a smile and just shook his head as they
walked out of Welsh's office.. "Don't even think it!" 

"Think what?" the blond with his most innocent expression. 

"Don't try that look with me ... I've worked with the Mountie, remember? I
know all about innocent looks!" Kowalski grinned at him.  

They spent the next two days going through prior stolen vehicle cases in
the 2-7 and found five that seemed like they might match. Two of the
victims had mentioned feeling like they were being followed. All of the
cars were newer and very expensive models. And none of the vehicles had
been recovered. They began compiling a notebook with their cases and those
from other districts.  

The next carjacking occurred one week later in the 22nd district. A brand
new BMW, its occupants enroute home after a late evening celebrating their
anniversary. The man had fought back, refusing to give up his shiny new
car. He'd been severely beaten with a tire iron for his efforts, and his
doctors were predicting permanent brain damage. The description of the
suspects was predictably vague, but the MO seemed to match the other
carjacking. The car was new and expensive. A car pulled in front of the
victim vehicle, which was distracted by someone driving behind them with
their brights on. Two men, one on each side, ordered them out of the car.
The criminals were carrying "really big guns," wearing coveralls and had
nylons pulled over their faces. The car to the rear vanished before anyone
got a look at it. The one that blocked the roadway had been stolen shortly
after the last carjacking. Kowalski and Vecchio, while busy with their
regular caseload, made the time to speak to their contacts, but no one
seemed to know who was behind the carjackings or where the vehicles were
being taken. 

"They can't be disappearing into thin air," Welsh reflected, several days
later, after listening to what they had to say. 

"No, but they might as well be at this point," Vecchio said, sitting on
the couch and leaning back. Kowalski was sitting in a chair, fidgeting,
distracted. 

"Do you have something to add?" Welsh asked him. 

"Huh? Oh, uh. No. Nothin'." The Lieutenant gave him a long look, but the
blond seemed oblivious. Finally Welsh sighed and dismissed them with a
wave of his hand. The Rays left the office quickly. 

"What's wrong with you?" Vecchio asked? 

"What?" 

"What? You weren't even in that office. All week you've been ... I don't
know. Not here." 

"Whaddya mean not here? I helped you collar Radovitch yesterday!" 

"Yeah ... but you're not *here* ... you're just here." 

"I'm just tired is all. I'll be fine. Good night's sleep." 

"And maybe a meal? You get much thinner, I'm gonna lose you through a
grate. Benny'd kill me." 

"Nah. He'd just give you one of those 'Ray, I'm so disappointed in you'
looks." 

"A fate worse than death," Vecchio agreed. "Seriously, though. You sure
you're all right?" 

"Geez, now yer gonna turn into my Mom? Back off." Kowalski's tone was
mild, but the tone was clear.  

"Sorry." Vecchio threw up his hands in mock surrender. "But as long as
we're on the subject of Moms; how 'bout comin' over for dinner? Ma's
making lasagna. She'd love ta see you." 

"Thanks, but ... I got stuff I gotta do tonight." Kowalski told him.  

"That's what you said last week." 

"Gotta get stuff ready ... for the trip." 

"Ya heard from Benny lately?" 

"He's pretty busy with the trial comin' up and all." 

"Makes sense." 

"Anyway - tell yer family I said 'Hi'" Kowalski said, picking his jacket
up and heading out of the door. Vecchio looked after him, frowning. Then
shaking his head, he grabbed his own coat and left.  

Kowalski sank back into his couch and, using the remote, turned on his TV.
Then he sat back and, closing his eyes, ignored it. A part of him thought
wistfully about dinner at the Vecchio's. He knew he'd still be welcome if
he showed up, but he just didn't think he had the energy required. 

"Hey Evi," he said to the turtle. "How was your day?" As a conversational
partner, the turtle was lacking in wit, but he was certainly a good
listener. "Mine sucked." Ray told him conversationally. Actually it
hadn't. It had been fairly productive. Any other time, he would have said
it was an okay day. But in the one really important thing, it had sucked.
He had received no letter from Fraser. He sighed and looked at the book he
was reading on the Franklin expedition. Maybe he could pretend the Mountie
was reading it to him. After half an hour, he gave up. Grabbing his
jacket, he went out for a walk. He did a lot of walking at night. He
figured it was better than drinking. He'd walk until he was exhausted,
stumble home and pass out until it was time to get up and go to work. 

Three days later the carjackers threw an elderly woman out of the car and
onto the roadway when she failed to get out of the car quickly enough to
suit their needs. She suffered a heart attack and was pronounced dead on
arrival at the hospital. Her grandaughter, who had been driving, described
the two suspects as wearing coveralls and nylons. The stolen car was a new
Mercedes SUV.	

"I don't need to tell you gentleman, that the pressure is rising. We've
had three of these so far and not a solid lead yet." Welsh had called them
into his office, immediately the next morning. 

"If it were a really large gang, something would've leaked by now,"
Kowalski said, massaging his forehead. "Too many people is too hard to
control. This has to be a small, really tight, group." Vecchio nodded in
agreement. 

"So work harder. We need to step this up. Lean on your sources. Find
something! Anything," Welsh ordered. 

"There is something," Vecchio offered. Kowalski looked up startled.
Vecchio smiled apologetically at him. "I was talking to Stella last night.
She said something about two different friends of hers getting their cars
stolen out of their driveways a couple months ago. It got me thinking and
I want to go over the reports again. Most of our victims live in the
suburbs." 

"So maybe that was the start?" Kowalski was right with him. 

"That's what I'm thinking. Security got stepped up in those areas. More
people parked in their garages, more police patrols. What if the perps
just started following their vics into the city?" 

"Explaining why several of them have felt like they were bein' followed!"
Kowalski was getting excited and Vecchio grinned at him.  

"It does seem to fit. Stella's going to get me the information on her
friends' thefts. I thought we could look into those reports ... see if
there was something there that might help." 

Welsh was nodding. He looked pleased. "Good thinking, Detective. It's
definitely worth following up. Let me know which departments are involved
and I'll try to get 'em to expedite copies of their reports to us." 

"Yes, Sir." Kowalski left the room and his partner started to follow. 

"Vecchio?" He turned back. Welsh motioned him to remain. After Kowalski
was out of earshot, he asked, "What's going on with him?" 

"How do you mean, sir?" Vecchio didn't want to give anything away until he
knew where the lieutenant was going. 

"He looks like Hell," Welsh said bluntly. "You two fighting again?" 

"No. I don't know what's wrong. He won't let me in." Welsh nodded, pursing
his lips thoughtfully.	

"He's volunteered for overtime every day off he's had for the last three
weeks." 

"What!?" Vecchio had missed that. "I know he's in early every day." 

"Stays late, too. I'm supposed to be lookin' out for him. Promised
Constable Fraser I would. But Kowalski won't talk to me. Just keeps sayin'
everything's fine and he's saving money for his year off." He looked at
Vecchio. "Heard from the Mountie lately?" 

"No." 

"Has he?" tilting his head toward Kowalski's desk. Vecchio thought about
that for a minute.  

"I'm not really sure," he said slowly. Welsh nodded again.  

"Might be interesting to find out, Detective." 

Vecchio's plans to talk to the blond were derailed by the investigation.
His idea concerning the suburban thefts, seemed like a good one, but
instead of bringing them new clues, it just added more cases to the pile.
There had definitely been a rash of car thefts. The Rays went through the
reports, one by one. Any where the vehicle had been recovered was
dismissed. Two appeared to be part of a divorce dispute and others were
tossed aside as the cars seemed too old or commonplace. 

"I was hoping this would help us," Vecchio groaned. 

"It may yet," Kowalski said. He sat back and rubbed his forehead. Vecchio
narrowed his eyes.  

"Headache?" 

"Yeah. I get 'em sometimes." 

"Stella told me. Said you used to get them all the time when you were
stressed." Kowalski looked up with an amused glint in his eyes.  

"We're gonna have ta make up some rules here. It's not fair using
information from my ex-wife. It's cheating. 'Sides, if you guys can't
think o' something more interesting than me to talk about ... well, you
got real problems, buddy." 

"Yeah, well, odd as it may seem, we both have an interest in keeping you
healthy. Like it or not, Ray, people care about you." Kowalski smiled
shyly. 

"Yeah, I'm gettin' that. Thanks." Vecchio shrugged it off. 

"You okay to work?" he persisted. 

"Yeah. I'm good.  

Vecchio made an effort to be in early the next morning. Looking over at
Kowalski's desk, he saw the eternally present cup of coffee sitting there.
It was only half full, but there was steam coming up off of it. "Damn,"
Vecchio muttered under his breath. 

"Forget something?" Startled, Vecchio spun around to to see the blond
walking up behind him, a file clutched in one hand. "Jumpy!" Kowalski said
grinning. The Italian grinned back. The blond walked past him and sat down
at his desk, taking a large sip of the coffee. 

"You're in early again," Vecchio said. 

"Yeah. Couldn't sleep. Thought I might as well get some paperwork done."
Vecchio frowned at that. Everything he knew about the blond, said that
paperwork was not exactly a pressing concern. Threats were usually
involved before he would complete it. Frannie had confided that she'd also
tried to talk to Kowalski, with a similar lack of success. Vecchio sighed.
He'd had enough. Sitting on the edge of his partner's desk, he waited. 

"What?" Kowalski looked up.  

"What's going on?" Vecchio asked gently. 

"Nothing. What? I'm working," defensively. 

"Look, you can't keep going on like this." 

"Like what? I'm fine." Kowalski looked back down, to all intents and
purposes, concentrating on his files, but the Italian could see him
tensing up. 

"No. You're not fine." Veccho was determined to get to the root of this.
"There's obviously something wrong. Let me help. Please. What's going on?"


"Nothing," in a low voice. 

"Ray, look at me." Reluctantly, the blond looked up. Pale blue eyes looked
into warm green ones. Vecchio was shocked at the expression in those eyes.
Fear. Vecchio reached out a hand to his partner's shoulder. "Talk to me,
please," he said. "Let me help." Kowalski gave him a half smile. 

"Ya can't," he said.  

"Yo Rays!" Dewey sang out behind them. "Can't you hold these heart to
hearts in the closet!" Kowalski shook his head and returned to his report.
Vecchio sighed. The moment was lost. Getting up, he headed off to the
break room to get his own coffee. In passing, he jerked his head at
Francesca, who had just come in. She quickly followed him.  

"Well?" she demanded. 

"He's not talking."  

"I wish Fraser was here. He'd know what to do." Ray looked at his sister
thoughtfully. "Well, he would," she defended herself. 

"When was the last time Ray really talked to you about his adventure?" 

"I dunno. It's been awhile." 

"Yeah, it has. Hasn't it." 

"What? You think something happened? They're not going?" 

"I don't know. I think I'd like to talk ta Benny though." At this point
Kowalski entered the room. Both Vecchios immediately fell silent. The
blond looked at them. 

"Hey, don't let me stop you talkin' about me," he said with an ironic
smile, going over to the coffee pot for a refill. 

"We're just worried," Francesca told him. 

"I'm fine. Look, I just haven't been sleeping so good. I do that
sometimes. It'll go away. Did before. Really, it's no big deal." The
siblings looked at him with matching raised eyebrows. The blond laughed at
their expressions and shook his head. "Look, it's nice you guys care. But,
I'm okay. Just need a couple nights o' solid sleep and I'm good ta go." He
lifted his coffee cup in a mock toast and left the room. The Vecchios
looked at each other.  

"We need to find out what's going on with Benny. Elaine found him up there
for me once. Do you think you can do the same?" Francesca nodded. 

"I'll find him," she promised.	

The carjackers hit in the 27th that night. And killed again.  

Vecchio didn't make it to the scene until about 7:30 am. He'd been held up
by road work. Welsh was standing near the Coroner's Wagon. A dark blue
sedan was parked in thee middle of the roadway. The body had been removed,
but the pitifully small chalk outline said everything. Uniformed officers
were taking measurements and photographs and making sketches. The media
was off to the side, talking to an official police spokesperson. Vecchio
looked again at the small outline and crossed himself. Then he went over
to Welsh. 

"How bad?" 

"Bad. Johnny Denton. Four years old. His mother was taking him and a
friend to day care. She rushed the other kid inside because he was
carsick. Came back out a moment later to get her son and saw them driving
off. Apparently the carjackers didn't notice Johnny in the back seat right
away. Guess they figured she only had the one kid with her. When they did
find him, they threw him out of the car right into oncoming traffic. The
guy who hit him never had a chance. One minute he's driving home to be
with his wife after a night shift; the next minute he's running over a
small child." Welsh shook his head. "An old lady and a kid. These guys
don't care who they kill." 

"Kowalski was right. They're getting cocky. They feel safe. Untouchable." 

"I want to touch them. I want to touch them hard." Welsh said in a low
voice. Vecchio nodded in understanding.  

"Where is Kowalski?" he asked. Welsh nodded down the street. Vecchio
followed his gaze to see the blond sitting hunched over on a park bench
about halfway down the block. "What gives?" he asked. "I mean I know kids
are tough, but it is part of the job ..." 

"Don't go there, Detective." Welsh sighed. "His brother was killed by a
car when they were kids. He witnessed it. He was workin' this, but he
didn't look so good. I told him to take a break. Didn't see any point in
torturing him. He's not overly fond of the morgue either, if you get my
drift." Vecchio digested that information. 

"He never said anything." 

"He wouldn't. He didn't exactly tell me either." Welsh shook his head,
clearly remembering something. Vecchio knew there was a story there, but
he also recognized that this was not the moment to ask. 

"You ... uh, you need me here?" 

"No. I'll want you guys to interview the driver and the parents. Frannie's
making up flyers and we'll get the press to help us look for witnesses."
He looked over at the chalk mark and shook his head sadly. 

"We'll get to it, " Vecchio promised. He started heading down the street
towards his partner, then changed his mind and veered into a coffee shop
first.	

Kowalski looked up startled when the Italian sat next to him. "Here,"
Vecchio said, shoving a cup in his hand. "Drink." 

"Thanks," Kowalski said in a quiet voice. He took a sip, without taking
his attention from the scene. "Welsh tell ya?" 

"Yeah. The basics," Vecchio said, uncertain as to whether the blond was
talking about his past or the current case. Kowalski nodded.  

"They threw away a kid, Ray. They just threw him away like he was
yesterday's garbage. I want to get these guys." His voice was low but
determined. 

"We'll get 'em," Vecchio said, reaching out a hand to the blond's
shoulder, massaging it gently. They sat in silence for a few minutes,
watching the uniforms work the scene.  

"I'll talk to Mort," Vecchio offered. Kowalski tilted his head sideways to
look up at his partner. 

"It's part o' the job. I can handle it."  

"Never said you couldn't." 

"'Sides, Mort'd miss seein' my back." He drank again from the cup. Vecchio
watched him for a moment before speaking again. 

"I know I'm not Benny, but ... if ... uh ... if you ever needed to talk
about anything ... well, I can listen pretty well." 

"I'm good," Kowalski said automatically, as he stood. He started to walk
away and then turned back. "But ... uh ... thanks. It's nice ta know. I
mean that." 

"Anytime, partner." They looked at each other somewhat awkwardly, and then
Kowalski jerked his head back toward the scene. 

"Let's get to it."  

It was a long and exhausting day, physically and emotionally. Between
interviewing the man who had run over the child, thereby becoming yet
another victim of the carjackers, and the child's parents, both Rays were
completely wiped out. And in between, there had been the trip to the
morgue. Vecchio noticed that Mort was going out of his way to shield the
younger detective from seeing the small body, but hearing the rundown of
the injuries hadn't been easy on either man. Vecchio kept thinking how
easily it could have been one of his own nephews. He couldn't even imagine
what Kowalski's thoughts must be like. After interviewing the parents, the
Italian drove himself and his partner to the Vecchio home. 

"What's up?" the blond asked as they pulled up in front of the house. He'd
been so engrossed in his notes, he hadn't noticed they weren't going to
the station. 

"You're coming in. Ma saved dinner for us and don't even try to get out of
it. I am much too tired to explain how I let you get away this time. You
have no idea how many creative excuses I've had to come up with to explain
why you're not taking her up on her invitations." 

"You're good with that sort of thing." The blond grinned. "I read about
the magic bullet that traveled all over your body." 

"Very funny. Get out of the car and go make my mother happy." 

"What is this? An order?" 

"I'm senior to you in years on the job. I'm pulling rank." 

"Just this once, I'll let you. Only 'cause I'm too tired to argue,
though." 

"Fine. Just as long as you go." Both men exited the car and wearily walked
up the steps, to where warmth and a good meal awaited them. A necessary
reminder that some part of their world was still sane and untouched; still
worth fighting for.   

His plate empty, Kowalski sat back. "I'll never move again," he groaned. 

"You sure you had enough?" Mrs. Vecchio asked anxiously, ready to bring
out more food. 

"Yer tryin' ta kill me with kindness, aren't ya?" the blond teased. 

"You are much too skinny," she informed him. 

"Hey, it's not like Ray and Francesca are candidates for a diet," he
protested. 

"No, but at least I know they eat," Mrs. Vecchio pointed out. "I'm not
sure you even know where your kitchen is." 

"Sure I do. It's where the coffeepot is." Ray Vecchio watched the exchange
with much amusement. This was a side of Kowalski he rarely saw. It was
this engaging personality, he realized, that had helped draw his friends
and family to his "substitute." That and his tenacious determination to do
his job and do it well. And he had, Vecchio suddenly realized, free of any
jealousy. Ray Kowalski had done everything he could to protect Ray
Vecchio's life while he was gone and he had returned it almost completely
intact. The only changes were ones the younger man could never have
predicted. 

"I'm too tired ta drive you back to the station," he suddenly said.
"You'll have ta bunk here tonight." 

"I can call a cab," Kowalski said. 

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mrs. Vecchio was as appalled as her son had
predicted.. "We can make you up a nice bed here and I'll have a good
breakfast for you both in the morning. You have to be at your best to work
on this case. You need to catch these terrible men." 

"That's a fact," Kowalski agreed. 

"Now you have to stay," Vecchio teased. "Ma sees a chance to feed you
another meal." 

"When we find these guys and I lose 'em in a foot pursuit, you know whose
fault it's gonna be." 

"I'm prepared to take that risk."  

Vecchio went to check on the blond a bit later. He found him sitting on
the couch, watching the TV. The sound was off. 

"Let's get your bed made up," Vecchio suggested. 

"I'm good," Kowalski said. "Just need a blanket." 

"C'mon. The couch folds out. It'll be a lot more comfortable," Vecchio
insisted, gently. Kowalski stood, reluctantly and helped make up the bed.
Then he looked at it, a trapped expression in his eyes. His posture, with
his shoulders hunched slightly forward in a self protective gesture, was
frighteningly vulnerable. Vecchio wanted badly to help the younger man. He
wished again, that the Mountie were here. Benny had a knack for getting
people to confide in him.  

"Ray?" Vecchio asked, concentrating on being as Fraser-like as possible.
"What's wrong?" 

"Keep seein' the body," the blond admitted quietly. 

"Whose?" Kowalski looked up, startled. "Welsh told me about your brother."


"Oh. Both, I guess." He looked back at the bed. "I think I better go
home," he said. 

"No." Vecchio reached out and put his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I
don't think you need to be alone tonight." 

"I ... I get ... uh ... get nightmares. Prob'ly wake you all up." 

"That's part of being family. Like it or not, you've been adopted into
this one." 

"That's the way it is, huh?" Vecchio was pleased to see the beginnings of
a smile. 

"Yeah," he said, smiling back. "Come on. Ma makes this great drink.
Guaranteed to make you sleep." 

"Guaranteed?" 

"Absolutely," Vecchio assured him. 

"Sounds good," Kowalski admitted.  

Francesca came down to check on Kowalski an hour later. The drink had
worked its magic, aided by the sleeping pill Vecchio surreptitiously mixed
into it, and the blond was sound asleep. Francesca was not surprised to
see that he had already kicked the covers half off. She pulled them back
up, carefully tucking them around the sleeping man. Unable to resist, she
reached out and brushed his hair back. 

"Ben?" Ray whispered. "S'nice." He squirmed deeper into the pillow, still
asleep, while Francesca stood over him a moment longer, her expression
thoughtful. Then she left the room, turning out the light behind her.  

"God! You are so pathetic," Vecchio sneered. "How could you possibly
expect Fraser to want to go anywhere with you? You can't even take care of
yourself in a city you grew up in, and now you want to go off on some
grand adventure in the middle of nowhere? You think Fraser's gonna carry
you the whole way? Of course, he's not writing you! He's probably running
in the other direction as fast as he can, just like everyone else that
ever got to know you. What did you expect, Ray? Ray? Ray?" The Italian
grabbed his shoulder, demanding an answer.  

"No!" Kowalski cried out, trying to push him away. 

"Whoa!" Vecchio backed off from the couch, carefully holding a cup. "Easy
there!" 

"Huh?" The blond sat up and looked around the room, puzzled for a moment,
until reality kicked in. He shook his head to banish the last of the
nightmare. 

"Hate to disturb yer beauty rest, but we gotta go to work." Vecchio told
him. Kowalski looked at him, with a strange expression on his face. "You
okay?" the Italian asked. 

"Uhh. Yeah. Weird dream is all." 

"Guess so. You're lookin' at me like I got two heads or something." 

"Sorry." 

"Don't worry about it. Coffee?" He held out the mug. Kowalski reached for
it gratefully. 

"Thanks," he said after a couple of healthy swallows. 

"Sure," Vecchio shrugged. "Shower's down the hall. The blue towels are
yours. I got some sweats you can wear. You got a change of clothes at the
station? Or do we need to run by your place? I'd loan you something, but I
figure it would offend your sense of ... style." He smiled to take the
sting out of the words. 

"I got stuff at the station. Real clothes. Like normal people wear,"
Kowalski teased back, grateful for the distraction. 

"Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that," Vecchio chuckled, as he left
the room. The blond watched him go and then took a deep breath. The dream
had seemed so real, but there was none of the condescension or scorn in
the real Vecchio's eyes, that he had seen in the dream. Only friendship
and concern had appeared in the Italian's eyes. Shaking his head, Kowalski
forced himself to his feet, still clutching the coffee mug, and went in
search of the bathroom.   

 Two nights later, Welsh, Francesca, Huey, Dewey, Stella and the two Rays
were ensconced in the break room, going over reports and trying to find
similarities between the carjackings. Pizza boxes and empty soda cans were
scattered about on the tables. It was 1:00 a.m. and the group had been at
it since five the previous afternoon. 

"I can't take much more of this," Huey groaned, sitting back and rubbing
his eyes. "All the words are starting to run together." 

"We need the Mountie," Dewey said. "He'd have been able to make sense of
this." 

"Yeah, well he ain't here, so we're just gonna have ta make do," Kowalski
said sharply, glaring at him. Welsh looked at Vecchio, who shook his head
in a barely imperceptible motion. Welsh let the comment go. Kowalski
looked back at the report he'd been going through. "Hey, Frannie. You got
the one from the 18th, right?" 

"Yeah." 

"Anything about a tow truck?" 

"Anything? Could you be a little more specific?" 

"Any of the witnesses mention seeing a tow truck in the area after the
incident?" 

"Let me check." She began flipping through the notebook again. 

"I got one," Huey said, suddenly sitting up interested. "In the 12th.
Witness saw a tow truck cruising by right around the same time as the
crime. Nothing on the hook though." 

"Yeah, here it is," Frannie said after a minute. "Same thing. Two people
remembered seeing a tow truck in the neighborhood. So what?" 

"Gimme a sec." Kowalski leaned back, his eyes closed, his right hand
making odd motions in the air. Then he sat back up and looked at the
group. "Okay ... think about it. You steal a car. You take it right from
the people, so you know the cops'll be combing the streets for it pretty
quick, checking everything that matches as it drives by." 

"Where are you going with this?" Welsh asked. 

"How closely do you look at what's on the back of a tow truck?" 

"Yeah!" Vecchio said, suddenly enthused. "You're looking for someone
trying to make a getaway in the stolen car... not a broken down car on the
hook." 

"Maybe change the plates to be sure ... who's gonna look twice?" Welsh
said smiling. "You may have something, Detective." 

Re-energized, the group went back through the reports. They didn't all
mention tow trucks, but enough did to make it interesting. 

"We need to re-interview victims. See if we can find more who saw these
trucks and find out if anyone noticed what company it was from," Welsh
said. 

"Then what?" Dewey asked. 

"They get a new employee," Kowalski told him. 

"We'll have to find the right guy," Welsh said, standing up. "But yeah, I
think that's worth a shot." 

"You have the right guy, Sir. Between quitting college and waiting ta get
into the Academy, I worked for a tow yard. Plus, I got the mechanical
skills. I can do this." 

"I don't know about that, Ray." 

"I want these guys." 

"We all want these guys," Vecchio said gently. 

"Yeah, but we don't all have the right background. I do." 

"How do you know you'd get hired on?" 

"First we find the company. Maybe they're hiring. If not, odds are someone
can be liberated. We look hard enough, somebody'll have a warrant. I just
need to get in and look around. See what's what." 

"You think the whole company's going to be involved?" Welsh asked. 

"No. Like I said before. I think this is a small, tight group. Big groups
have weak links. They get caught." 

"I agree," the Lieutenant told him. "All right. Regardless of who's going
in, first we have to see if we can come up with the right company." He
pushed back from the table and stretched. "I want you to tackle those
interviews first thing in the morning." He stood and shook his head. "I
hope this turns out to be something. Good night." He left the room.
Francesca and Stella followed. Huey and Dewey looked at each other. 

"Bada Bing," Dewey said. Huey nodded. They got up and walked out of the
break room. 

"Freaks," Kowalski muttered, half smiling. 

"You got that right," Vecchio agreed. He looked over at his partner,
concerned. "You sure you're up for this?" 

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be? Just 'cause I didn't do the mob thing, I'm not
good enough?" His tone was defensive. 

"That's not what I'm saying." 

"I'm good," Kowalski insisted in a defensive tone. Then catching the look
in the green eyes, he backed down. "I'm good," he repeated in a calmer
tone. "I want these guys and I'm the one who's got the best chance to get
in there. I promise, I'm okay for it." Vecchio looked at him, frowning and
then sighed. 

"I want 'em too," he said. "Just remember, I'll be sticking close by."
Kowalski smiled. 

"I was kind o' countin' on that," he said   

 The interviews had been a nuisance, but it looked like they finally might
be onto something. On re-questioning, several more of the victims and
witnesses had remembered seeing a tow truck in the area. They had
continued to look for other coincidences as well. Many of the victims
frequented the city. Some had even crossed paths, but there was no one
thing they all had in common. The tow trucks appeared to be the largest
common denominator. Several of the witnesses thought that the trucks had
been white. Others could only remember that it was a light color of some
kind. And the security service in one of the more exclusive neighborhoods
from an earlier theft had logged in a truck from Romero's Tow Service.
Francesca, enjoying herself enormously had phoned all the tow companies in
town looking for the one her "Stupid sister" had used and left her
"favorite black blazer" in. Romero's Tow Service was the only one that
used all white tow trucks in Chicago. Preparations were underway for
Kowalski to go to work there. But first, Welsh had insisted he get a
medical clearance. The blond had dutifully agreed, and promptly run up his
friend, Jack Leighton. Things were not going quite as well as he'd
anticipated, however. 

"You look like crap," the doctor told him. 

"I'm not that bad," Ray said in a defensive tone. 

"Yes, you are that bad. You're obviously not sleeping. You haven't put on
any weight. And don't think I'm not noticing you trying to hide that
headache." Silence. 

"Please," Kowalski finally said in a quiet tone. Jack shook his head. He
got up and moved around the desk, to sit in the chair next to the blond. 

"Talk to me," he said. There was a longer silence. Leighton waited
patiently. Finally, Ray spoke. 

"I'm just ... I'm not ..." He trailed off into silence again. 

"Tired? Hungry? What?" 

"I dunno. I mean, tired. Yeah. But when I sleep ... well, it's like my
dreams are gangin' up on me. So ... I kind o' ... don't like sleeping ...
much." Jack nodded, slowly. 

"What's your priority right now?" he asked. 

"Ta solve this case," Kowalski answered immediately. 

"What about your trek north with the Mountie?" Jack asked. 

"First things first," Ray said, not meeting his friend's eyes. The doctor
sighed. 

"If you want me to write your clearance, you're going to have to talk to
me," he said. 

"I don't ... I don't know. I haven't heard from Fraser ... recently. And I
can't really deal with that right now. I can't, Jack. I really can't. I
need to solve this case." He looked straight at his friend. Leighton
recognized the truth when he saw it. Taking a deep breath, he reached over
and picked up the clearance form. He signed it and handed it to the blond.


"Thanks, Jack." 

"Stay in touch, Ray. That's an order. If you don't, I will come find you.
Case or no case. If I have to I'll go through your Lieutenant. I mean it."
He looked steadily into Kowalski's eyes. "You need to start eating. I
don't care if you're hungry or not. If you want to stay on this case, you
have to take better care of yourself. I'll give you a prescription for
something mild to help you sleep as well." He was scribbling on his pad as
he spoke 

"No drugs." 

"At least until you go undercover, Ray. It will help. You need the sleep,
badly. How much good are you going to be out there if you're fighting
exhaustion?" The blond nodded, reluctantly accepting the prescription. "If
you need to talk to me, call or page me. I'm always available to you. You
know that. And this thing with the Mountie ... I'm sure it will work out.
I could see how much he cared for you. That doesn't disappear overnight."
Leighton's tone was reassuring, and his eyes bespoke his knowledge.
Kowalski gave the doctor a crooked grin, but his eyes showed his doubt.
"It'll be okay," Jack said. He put a hand on the blond's shoulder. "Trust
me." Ray nodded slowly. 

"Thanks," he said softly. 

"That's what friends are for, Ray. Now, take care of yourself! Doctor's
orders." Ray nodded and stood, offering a mock salute. He took the
clearance letter off the desk and headed for the door. He paused for a
moment and looked back. 

"I mean it, Jack. Thanks a lot." Leighton nodded and smiled. The smile
faded as he watched his friend walk out the door. He recognized depression
when he saw it. He also recognized that the only thing keeping the blond
going right now was this case. He shook his head and wondered how one went
about contacting a Mountie.   

One week later, Ray trudged up the stairs towards his apartment. Shifting
the grocery bag on his hip, he began searching his pockets for his house
keys. He was tired, he thought. So tired. Tired of having to pretend he
was fine in front of Vecchio and Welsh; tired of dragging himself in and
out of his apartment everyday. Tired of the nightmares that plagued his
sleep. Tired of existing basically. The only thing keeping him going right
now was the case. Tomorrow he was going undercover, escaping himself yet
again. Stan Markowitz had been hired earlier that week on the basis of a
phone interview and recommendations from a couple of former employees and
his parole officer. His gut told him he was on the right track here. One
way or another he was going to get these people. And after that ... well
... he had absolutely no idea. He just knew he was getting dangerously
low. He knew too, that he should call Jack and talk about it, but he was
afraid that if he really opened that particular door, he wouldn't be able
to jam it shut again. //First things, first,// he reminded himself. //Get
the bastard that killed the kid. The rest ... it'll just have to wait.//
He reached his floor and started down the hall, fighting his coat lining
for possession of his keys. Glancing up, towards his door, he stopped
short. 

"Hi, Ray." Kowalski stared. He'd truly lost it, he thought. Now he was
hallucinating. The hallucination had been sitting on the floor next to his
door. Now it was getting up and walking toward him. And now it was
standing right in front of him. Ray closed his eyes tight and then opened
them. Still there. "Hello," it repeated. 

"Frase?" the blond whispered. 

"Yes." The Mountie reached out and took the bag from Ray, inclining his
head to the door of the apartment. "Shall we?" 

"Huh? Yeah. Right." Ray was still staring. It was a full minute before he
suddenly shook his head sharply, then headed for his door. Opening the
door, he took his bag back from Fraser, leaving the Mountie free to pick
up his pack, leaning against the wall.	

Inside, the Mountie put the pack down, carefully shut the door and turned
to look at his friend. Ray was just watching him. The pale blue eyes were
uncertain ... confused ... even a little afraid. Fraser smiled cautiously,
somewhat uncertain himself. The Mountie and the detective regarded each
other quietly. Finally, Fraser sighed. Reaching into his pack, he pulled
out a large bulky envelope and held it out to Ray. The blond took a step
forward and tentatively took it. He looked at it as if it might bite him. 

"They're my letters, Ray. To you." 

"What?" 

"I didn't realize they weren't being mailed. The trial was postponed and I
was given a temporary assignment far away from regular mail service. I had
to leave immediately, so I didn't get a chance to call you. I gave my
letters to a man who claimed to be delivering them to a postal station
every week. I didn't find out he wasn't until recently. I'm sorry." He
looked steadily at his friend. Ray watched him carefully for a moment and
then dropped his eyes down to the envelope. Slowly, he opened it and
emptied it onto the counter. A number of smaller envelopes slid out ...
all addressed to him. He looked back up at the Mountie. 

"How did you find out?" 

"Ray Vecchio. He and Francesca were able to get a message to me. He said
you needed me." 

"And?" 

"That was enough," the Mountie told him. "On the way down, I stopped in to
see the man, and found that he still had all my letters. He was saving up
to make the trip worthwhile, he told me." Fraser's tone of voice expressed
how he felt about that lack of responsibility. 

"You came just 'cause Vecchio said I needed you?" 

"Yes." Fraser walked over and stood directly in front of his friend. 

"And if, uh ... if I had called and ... and said I, uh ... I needed you.
You woulda ... you woulda come?" 

"Yes, Ray." Fraser tentatively reached out a hand, resting it gently on
his partner's shoulder. "I would have come. Immediately." The pale blue
eyes looked into the darker ones. Fraser could still see doubt written
large. "Why didn't you call?" 

"I was afraid," Ray admitted in a low voice. "You weren't writin' ... or
so I thought. An' I thought I knew what that meant. But I hoped I was
wrong. And if I'd called ... and you'd said 'no' ... I don't think I
coulda handled that." 

"Understood." Silence. Then, "You look dreadful," Fraser told the smaller
man. 

"Thanks, Benton buddy. It's good ta see you too," Ray grinned at him. It
was a good grin; the one that always made Fraser want to grin back. So he
did. Then, moving his hand up, he gently traced the outline of Ray's jaw. 


"You haven't been putting on any weight." 

"Been walkin' a lot. Gettin' fit for our adventure." Ray went for the
bluff. Fraser shook his head. 

"And the sleep deprivation?" He carefully traced the dark circles under
his friend's eyes. "Preparation for the Land of the Midnight Sun?"  

"Yeah. Exactly," Ray smiled. Fraser couldn't stand it any more and pulled
the blond into a hug. 

"I've missed you, Ray. The best part of each day was writing you. I'm so
sorry you thought I might have abandoned you," he confided. 

"S'okay. Not your fault," Ray said relaxing into the embrace, allowing
himself to enjoy the warmth and the solidity of Fraser's arms around him. 

"I wish you'd called. It hurts that you didn't have that faith in me."
Fraser told him, softly. 

"Not you!" Ray pushed back, startled. "Never you! Just ... just ...
without you here, I uh ... I mean, Vecchio's a good guy, once ya get ta
know him, but he's not you. He doesn't make me feel the way you do. I
guess, I felt kind o' lost and then I started thinkin' maybe I was
imagining things ... imagining us. Thought maybe you woke up and realized
what a pain I was ... Pretty pathetic, huh?" He looked down, his whole
being dejected. 

"No, Ray. It's all right." 

"No it isn't! What the Hell kind o' partner am I gonna be for you out
there?" Ray suddenly sounded angry. "Just drag you down. Get you into
trouble." 

"Shhh. You'll be fine," Fraser said, soothingly, reassuringly. "I have no
doubts about that, Ray. None." 

"Well ya should. I'm a loser." He was pacing now. 

"Ray," the Mountie began, 

"No ... I wanted ta be an equal partner. Not someone ya gotta look out for
all the time. That's no good. That's not buddies." 

"You'll be fine," Fraser repeated. He reached out and caught Ray by the
shoulder, pulling him back. Putting a finger over the other man's lips to
cut off his protests, he said, "Look at what you've accomplished here." 

"What? Got the Vecchios thinkin' I'm such a loser they gotta call you down
from Canada ta come rescue me?" 

"That they are concerned about you, should reflect well on you." 

"What?" 

"Ray, do you want to know what I see when I look at you?" The blond looked
at him, hesitantly. Fraser took a deep breath. "I see a warm and caring
person who can bring the sun into a rainy day with his grin. I see a brave
man, who goes out of his way to help others. I see a man who hasn't used
the pain of his past as an excuse for his future ..." 

"Frase, no ..." 

"Hush. I'm telling you what I see," the Mountie said firmly. "You don't
get to disagree with that. I see a generous individual who, no matter how
much he protests, will readily risk his life to save another. A man who is
not only working with, but has formed a friendship with the detective who
is dating his much loved ex-wife. I see a man whose biggest flaw is a lack
of faith in himself. But that's all right, Ray. I have enough faith in you
for both of us." 

"Freak," Ray whispered, trying not to break down under the kind words. 

"Takes one to know one?" suggested Fraser, slyly. 

"Takes one ta know one? Nobody says that anymore." Ray fought a smile. 

"It's a perfectly good phrase," the Mountie insisted. 

"For a third grader, maybe." 

"For any age," Fraser said, smiling. "I promise, Ray. I am not
disappointed by you in any way. I have every confidence in your abilities
and there is no one I would rather have as my partner on this adventure." 

"Say that again?" 

"There is no one I would rather have as my partner on this adventure." the
Mountie repeated firmly. Ray stood quietly for a moment. Then, with a half
smile on his lips, 

"When I first came back, it was supposed ta be temporary, ya know? But
then my parents left and that was kind o' lonely. Then, I wasn't hearin'
from you and I started thinking, 'what if this is it? What if this is my
life from now on?' I kept lookin' at Vecchio and Stella an' they're really
happy and I am glad for em' and all, but it just made me feel ... so ...
alone. An' everyone around me seemed ta have a life an' a purpose and I
was just in this weird in-between space. It got so I was havin' trouble
rememberin' who I used to be, let alone who I want ta be." 

"Who do you want to be?" Fraser asked curiously. 

"I don't know exactly. Just know that I was finding out bein' around you.
But without you ... felt like I was gettin' lost on the way. I mean, how
pathetic is that? Guy who doesn't even know who he is?" Fraser thought
back to when he'd first come to Chicago. Thought about how life would have
been in this huge city without first Ray Vecchio and then Ray Kowalski.
Remembered his earlier, less than successful, ventures in much smaller
cities and wondered if he would have been able to hold onto his
self-identity in Chicago without first Ray Vecchio and then Ray Kowalski
to give him an anchor. 

"I understand," he said, meaning it. "And I don't find it pathetic at
all." Pulling the blond closer to him, he ran a hand gently up and down
the slender back for a few moments. When he felt the smaller man relax, he
allowed his hand to stop, pointedly, over the ribs. 

"Ya tryin' ta tell me something?" Ray finally asked. 

"You're much too thin. You're going to freeze up north." 

"You'll keep me warm." 

"I'll certainly try, but it would be nice if you gave me something to work
with, Ray. In my experience, skeletons tend to have a problem retaining
heat." He pushed back slightly, looking into Ray's eyes. "I can't take you
adventuring up north like this." Fraser saw the fear flicker into the pale
blue eyes and sighed. "I have no intention of canceling our adventure,
Ray. But I don't intend to lose you on it, either. You're too thin and too
tired. We need to get you healthy before we head off." 

"We? You gonna stick around?" 

"I'll be around for a bit. I've been given some duties to attend to while
I'm in Chicago. The new Inspector at the Consulate has requested I help
him out until I have to go back. It seems the complete changeover in
staffing there has created some problems. The trial is now scheduled to
start in two months. I'll have to return for that. You could always come
with me," he suggested hopefully. "We could start getting you
acclimatized. The weather is warmer now and your lungs should be much
healthier. Is your leave approved?" 

"Basically. Welsh set it up so I could go when you said, but .... " 

"But?" Fraser looked at him, concerned. 

"I gotta go undercover tomorrow. Don't know for how long." 

"Ray, you're in no shape to go undercover." 

"Sure I am. 'Specially now." He smiled at the Mountie. "I gotta do this.
These guys ... I wanna get 'em. I won't be good for much of anything until
I do. This one's kind o' personal." Fraser sighed, recognizing the look of
determination in Ray's eyes.  

"You can tell me about it over dinner," he said. "Do you have anything
edible in that grocery bag?" 

"'Uh ... yeah. It's all ... well, it's edible ... ta me." Ray stepped back
and turned to the bag, emptying it onto the counter. The Mountie looked at
the contents and then to his friend, speechless. 

"I got all the food groups here," Ray said mischievously. 

"Ah. And you would be adhering to which dietetic principle?" Fraser was
shaking his head. 

"The police principle. Got caffeine, sugar and ... and pizza. Something
from each of the important food groups." 

"Perhaps we could order out?"  

"Yeah. We could do that, since ya asked nice," Ray allowed. 

"Thank you, kindly." 

They had finished dinner and were sitting on the couch. Ray was leaning
against Fraser, who had one arm wrapped around the blond. He set down the
letter he'd just read.	

"Your letters ... hearin' em ... it's almost like bein' up there," Ray
said. 

"I'm looking forward to the opportunity to show you my home." 

"I'm lookin' forward ta seein' it."  

"Mmm." They sat quietly in a companionable silence for a few minutes. 

"I should probably get ta bed. Get some sleep before tomorrow." 

"That would be wise." They were silent again, neither man making a move to
get up. Fraser leaned back on the couch, enjoying the feeling of Ray's
weight against him. Touch was important, he suddenly thought. Odd how many
years he'd denied himself, when all the factual evidence said that human
beings required it. He reached up and ran a hand through his partner's
spiked hair, enjoying the sensation of crushing the gel. 

"I like that," Ray told him. 

"As do I." They were quiet again. 

"Uh, Frase?" 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"We .. uh ... we never talked ... I mean ... I don't ... us ...," he
trailed off. 

"Ray?" 

"I love ya, Ben." 

"And I you, Ray." 

"But ... I'm ... I mean ... I'm not ... I don't know ... ya know? About
... us ... ya know? What us ... means." Fraser followed this train of
thought more easily than he would have thought possible. 

"I believe that was part of what we were going to explore during our
adventure." 

"Yeah. Just ..." 

"What?"  

"Would you actually want to ... I mean, with ... with me?" 

"Want to?" 

"You know ... do the deed?" Ray was blushing, something Fraser found
endearing and distracting. Suddenly he grasped what the blond was saying
and blushed himself. Ray flashed him a quick grin, recognizing that they
were now on the same page. 

"Do you?" Fraser asked, neatly tossing the ball back into the blond's side
of the court. 

"I don't know. I mean ... I like bein' held by you." 

"And I like holding you," he was assured. 

"But I don't know if I'm wired that way. I mean ... I know I said I'd try
anything once, but I wasn't thinkin' ... I'd never thought about ...
havin' sex ... making love with another guy." Having got the words out, he
was bright red and studiously avoiding the Mountie's eyes. 

"You know that I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to.
I love you for what's inside your head and your heart, Ray." 

"So, what? You're sayin' you don't like my body?" Kowalski's tone was
suddenly defensive. 

"I believe I told you once before, that I thought you were attractive,"
Fraser assured him, trying to suppress a smile. 

"Thought you were just tryin' to get me out of the crypt and down to the
station." 

"I was, but I was also speaking the truth." 

"So ... does that mean you're interested ... in tryin'?" 

"I think it might be ... enjoyable." 

"You ever had sex with another guy?" 

"No." 

"Me either." 

"But I have always appreciated the beauty of the male form," Fraser
admitted. Ray looked startled and then laughed. 

"'Course ya would. Doesn't explain what yer doing with me, though." 

"You are beautiful," Fraser whispered. 

"You need my glasses, Benton-buddy." Fraser sighed. 

"Ray ... you don't get to argue with what I see, remember?" 

"Just confirms my original opinion. Yer a freak," Ray said in a fond tone.
They sat quietly for a moment. "So?" 

"Perhaps if we take an incremental approach?" 

"Kind of go step by step? Work up to it?" 

"Precisely." 

"I can go with that," Ray said. They were quiet again. After a few
minutes, Fraser became aware that Ray was growing heavier. "Come on," he
said, easing his friend into an upright position. 

"I'm good." the blond said, yawning. 

"You'll be better in bed," Fraser told him and then blushed. Ray chuckled.


"What happened to that incremental approach," he asked with a mischievous
look in his eyes. 

"I thought you wanted sleep tonight." Fraser hedged. 

"Yeah. I need it." He looked shyly at the Mountie, "I was kind o' hoping I
wouldn't be alone." 

"Come on," the Mountie said, standing and holding out a hand to assist the
blond. Ray smiled and pulled himself up. They went into the bedroom. Ray
sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots, then his shirt.
Fraser watched for a moment, admiring the play of muscles in Ray's back.
Cricking his neck sharply, he began removing his own clothing. Down to
their underwear, both men looked awkwardly at each other across the bed. 

"We done this part before," Ray said. 

"True enough." They climbed into the bed, one on each side, leaving the
middle empty. Ray turned out the bedside light and they lay quietly for
several minutes. 

"Ray?" Fraser whispered, reaching out and touching the blond's shoulder
lightly. Ray immediately rolled towards him and Fraser pulled the smaller
man into his arms, spooning up behind him. Ray wriggled until he was
comfortable. "All right?" Fraser asked. 

"Yeah," Ray said in a contented tone. His body relaxed and his breathing
gradually evened out. Fraser lay holding him and enjoying the feeling.
He'd missed this, missed Ray. The blond had edged his way into the
Mountie's life and then his heart. Ray belonged with him now and vice
versa. He hadn't realized how simple it was, until Vecchio had called.
There had been no question in his mind about going. His only thoughts had
been logistics and how quickly he could get to Chicago. He gently kissed
the back of Ray's head and then matched his breathing to that of his
partner's and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.  

He awoke in the middle of the night to find Ray propped up on one arm,
staring at him with a strange expression on his face. 

"Ray?" he asked, reaching up a hand. The blond flinched. Fraser halted his
hand midway. "Ray?" he repeated, concerned. 

"You real?" the other man whispered. 

"Yes." Ray took a deep breath and offered up a tentative smile.  

"Wasn't sure. I have these dreams sometimes, see. But they're only ... I
mean I know they're only dreams, but ... I just ... I ...." 

"I'm real, Ray. I'm here." Fraser carefully placed his hand on the other
man's face. "I'm here." The blond nodded. He slowly lowered himself back
down, his head on Fraser's shoulder.  

"Sorry." 

"Shh," Fraser whispered. He maneuvered them until he could reach his
partner's back. Gently rubbing it, he assured his partner by touch. Ray
relaxed back into sleep.  

Morning came much too quickly. When the alarm went off, Fraser was
startled . It took him a moment to realize where he was. In his arms, Ray
moaned and tried to bury his head under the covers. Fraser reached over
him and turned the volume down on the radio. Then he turned on the light.
Ray groaned. 

"Not yet," he mumbled. 

"You're the one who set the alarm, Ray." 

"Yeah - but see," interrupted by a yawn, "yer supposed ta hit the snooze
button a few times. Sorta work into the whole idea of being awake. You
don't just dive right into the day." 

"Ah." Silence. Ray groaned again. 

"S'pose I might as well get up. Make that good first day impression." He
sat up and blinked groggily. Fraser watched with amusement. The blond
slowly dragged himself from the bed and stumbled over to his dresser. He
rummaged out some clean underwear and then turned around and looked at
Fraser, self-consciously. The Mountie, who was still watching him,
suddenly blushed. Ray chuckled. Fraser quickly got up and headed for the
bathroom. Kowalski watched him go, the look in his eyes, partially amused
and partially regretful. He shook his head. As nervous as he was about the
idea of trying to make love to another man, he also had to admit to a
growing curiosity about what it would be like with this particular man. He
thought of the way the Mountie focused on a piece of evidence and then
thought about Fraser concentrating the same intensity on him .... He shook
his head, trying to banish the distracting images that came to mind, and
began scrounging on the floor for his clothing from the day before. Fraser
returned from the bathroom and watched with raised eyebrows. 

"Aren't you going to shower?" he finally asked. 

"Nah," Ray said, pulling on his jeans. 

"Oh." Ray caught the tone and looked up, grinning. 

"I'm supposed to be a con, who just got out o' prison last week. I live in
a rooming house and the shower is down the hall. Also, I don't have a
large wardrobe yet. It's why I need to get a job ... and why I really,
really need money." 

"Ah," in a tone of understanding. 

"It's the details that help you get into the whole undercover thing." 

"That would explain the careful attention to detail with Ray Vecchio's
cover," Fraser said smiling. "Especially the suits." 

"Yeah, well that was gonna be weird no matter how I played it. It would
take a lot more than a suit ta make me look like Vecchio." Dressed, he
looked at his partner. "Coffee?" he suggested. 

"That sounds good." 

"I'll go make some. For you, I'll even use the coffee maker." Fraser
opened his mouth and then shut it, deciding there were some questions he
might not want the answer to.  

Fraser came into the living room after showering and dressing, to find Ray
leaning over the turtle tank, offering his pet some morsel.  

"Coffee's ready," Ray told him. "Breakfast is ... well, it's pretty much
..." 

"Coffee?" 

"Yeah." Ray turned and grinned at him. Then, "You ... uh, you gonna stay
here?" 

"If that's all right." 

"'Course. You mind feeding Evi?" 

"No." Fraser looked at the turtle, and realized he'd never heard her name
before this. "Ray?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Have you made provisions for ... Evi? While we're in Canada, I mean." Ray
gave him an odd look. Fraser continued. "Turtles aren't known for their
love of arctic weather."  

"Yeah. That's why I was kind of surprised when you tried ta point 'em out
from the plane," Ray said, chuckling. 

"Well, it was a spur of the moment diversion. And it did work." 

"Uh huh. Been meaning ta talk to you about that. Not buddies, throwing yer
partner out of a plane." 

"It's all in how you look at it." 

"Yeah, well I was lookin' at it from way up with the ground coming at me
real fast." 

"Yes, well, that's not important right now. What is important is Evi. Have
you figured out what you're going to do with her?" 

"Him," Ray corrected, still grinning. 

"Him?"	

"Yeah. Evi ... Evidence ... he's not really a pet, Frase." The Mountie
looked startled. "He's evidence in a drug case. They used ta paint his
shell different colors according to what they had to sell and then stick
him in the store window." 

"That doesn't explain what evidence is doing in your apartment." 

"He looked so miserable stuck down in the property cage. Don't give me
that look! It's not his fault he was used by crooks. I signed him out. We
still got a chain of evidence!" 

"Ray, your apartment was broken into last year. How do you know they
didn't switch the turtle?" 

"I know Evi, Ben. 'Sides ... who's gonna steal a turtle? It's not like
he's crucial to the case; it's just one o' them weird things where they
couldn't figure out what ta do with him." 

"Hmmm." 

"That a bad Hmm? Or a good Hmm?" 

"Hmm?" Ray just shook his head and laughed.  

"Whatever. Feed the evidence, Fraser. It makes you feel better, I'll sign
a property tag turnin' him over to you. Me, I'm not really worried about
it." He went to pour himself more coffee and get his partner a mug.  

Finally it was time for Ray to go. Fraser unconsciously clenched his
fists, to keep from grabbing the blond and holding him back. Ray saw the
motion and smiled. 

"I'll be fine Frase." 

"You'll be careful?" 

"Hey, how tough can it be? It's not like I got this large red target
standing next ta me, trying to risk my life in bizarre and unusual ways." 


"Promise," Fraser said, refusing to let the younger man joke his way out
of it. 

"I promise," Ray said softly. 

"Thank you kindly." They stood looking at each other, awkwardly. 

"This is kind o' weird," Ray finally commented. Fraser looked at him
questioningly. Kowalski took a deep breath and then stepped forward and
quickly hugged the Mountie good bye. "Think I could get used to it,
though," he added. 

"As could I," Fraser agreed.  

"See ya around," Ray said. Then he left.   

Ray stayed quiet his first day, watching everyone there and trying to
decide who he needed to befriend. His prior experience in a tow yard made
the training relatively easy. The trucks had changed, but in ways that
made the job easier. He watched everything, trying to see if anything
stood out. It didn't, but then he hadn't really thought it would. If the
criminals were that obvious, they'd have been caught long ago. At the end
of the day, he refused an offer to go for a drink. 

"What, you too good to drink with us?" one of the men asked. Mark, the
dayshift dispatcher. 

"Nah. Just my parole officer would love an excuse to bust me back ... and
I ain't never goin' back." Ray said. 

"What were you in for?" That was Lance. Just coming on for night shift, he
was watching the group from a short distance. 

"What's it to ya?" 

"You brought it up," the other man said in a challenging tone. Ray studied
him for a moment. 

"Assault and Battery," he finally said. 

"Lost your temper, huh?" Lance goaded. 

"No. I didn't," Ray said calmly. Then he left.	

At his rooming house, Ray sat on the bed and looked around. The room was
small and dingy, but it fit his character perfectly. Stan Markowitz
belonged in this room. Ray shook his head and went to dig his cell phone
out of his bag. He called Welsh, checking in and giving him a list of
names to run. 

"You suspect anyone yet?" 

"Kind o' soon. If it was that easy, we'd have caught 'em a long time ago."


"Any hunches?" the Lieutenant persisted, knowing his detective. 

"Maybe that Lance guy. He's a little off. But I don't really have anything
to base it on." 

"All right. I'll have the histories on these guys for you tomorrow. Be
careful." 

"Geez. What is it with all you guys? Think I can't take care o' myself?"  

"Surprisingly, given your attitude, we would actually like to see you
return safely from this detail," the Lieutenant chided him. 

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks." 

"Good night." Ray disconnected and looked around the room for a good place
to hide his phone. He finally found a floor board that came up. Apparently
previous tenants had had "valuables" to hide as well. Then he returned to
the bed, and flopped back on it. He needed to get something to eat and
figure out how to spend the next couple of hours. Alone. Ray sighed. There
was a time when that would have been all right, but knowing that Fraser
was at his apartment was killing him. He desperately wanted to call the
Mountie, but knew he didn't stand a chance of completing this assignment
if he gave in to that temptation. And he had to finish this. No way was he
going to let someone who would throw a child into traffic ... a child too
young to effectively testify against them ... get away. He took a couple
of deep breaths and then got up and grabbed his jacket and went out to
find dinner.  

The second day passed much as the first. Ray's ... no, Stan's, he
corrected himself ... trainer was pleased with his progress and his
mechanical skills. He ate lunch with two of the other guys, but offered
little in the way of conversation, establishing himself as a listener. On
his way out at the end of the day, Lance stopped him with a hand on his
arm. 

"So, Markowitz. You like to fight?" 

"It has ... moments." 

"Like when you're winning." 

"I always win," Ray said, flashing him an edgy look. 

"Maybe you'd like to try me sometime. We could make a bet on it to make it
interesting. I'd look real good in that leather jacket o' yours." 

"I told you. I'm not goin' back ta prison." 

"We could work something out. I'd like to see your moves." Ray laughed. 

"No. Ya wouldn't," he said, in an assured tone. Then, shaking the other
man's hand off, he left.  

Back in his depressing room, Ray lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.
He reviewed the events of the day, going over them to see if anything
stood out. Nothing. Except the strange conversation with Lance, of course.
But all that proved was that the guy was weird. And Ray had already
figured that out. He shook his head and sat back up. He hadn't really
expected to find anything this soon. Usually he didn't mind the time spent
to get into an assignment. But usually he didn't have a Mountie waiting to
take him away on an adventure. He was going to have to be especially
vigilant. Trying to hurry would just blow his cover. He checked his watch.
Time to call Welsh.  

The Lieutenant didn't really have anything significant to tell him. There
were several ex-cons among the employees, including two for car theft.
Welsh was waiting on the actual crime reports, but judging from the time
served and the charges, it didn't look like anything but small time stuff.
Still, crooks had to start somewhere. Lance had a history of getting into
fights, which was hardly a surprise, but that was it. Welsh also told him
they were sending someone in as a state auditor to take a look at the
company's financial records.  

"You gonna have 'em look at the time cards? See who worked on the days o'
the thefts?" 

"That is the plan, Detective." Kowalski chuckled. Nothing like telling
Welsh the obvious, he thought, as he disconnected the call. After putting
the phone back under the floor boards, he went out to find something
resembling dinner.  

The rest of the week passed much the same. At the end of it, "Stan" had
finished training and was given a space in the rotation, working nights.
That put him on the same shift as Lance. The other man continued to offer
to fight him and Ray continued to ignore him. He started to talk more,
"loosening up" now that he was off training. He complained bitterly about
the crappy rooming house he was staying in, about his lack of money to
move to a better one and about the pain-in-the-ass rich people who could
afford to buy any car they wanted but then didn't have the brains to take
care of it. But through it all he provided courteous service to the
company's customers. Control. That was the image he wanted to project.	 

The second week went by in the same manner and the third followed suit.
Ray was having trouble sleeping again and his days off were enormously
frustrating. He started signing up for overtime, figuring it was a safe
way to up his chances of catching someone doing something suspicious,
while highlighting "Stan's" need for cash. Fraser was here in Chicago and
he couldn't go see him; couldn't take the chance of being seen hanging out
with another cop, let alone one as straight looking as the Mountie. When
he did manage to sleep, he would find himself having nightmares, wherein
he returned to find Fraser had partnered up with Vecchio again and either
changed his mind, or denied there was anything between them in the first
place. Or he failed so miserably at his undercover job that more children
were killed and Fraser would have nothing to do with him. Awake, he knew
that Fraser would never betray him, but asleep his mind played tricks on
him. Through it all, he kept going though. Kept his cover on straight and
continued to report nothing to Welsh. He went and visited a fictitious
parole officer every week too, summarizing everything he'd found out and
picking up whatever information they had for him that Welsh hadn't been
able to fill him in on in their short conversations. The time cards didn't
tell them anything. Ray was disappointed to find that Lance had been off
for a number of the thefts. The guy was really getting on his nerves, the
way he kept needling him for a fight. In the fourth week, he joined a gym
near the tow yard, figuring he could take some frustrations out there.	

The next day, he dragged himself out of bed early, intent on murdering a
punching bag. Grabbing his gear, he threw it into a duffel. He'd shower at
the gym, he decided. Even without his glasses on, he could see how filthy
the shower down the hall was. He was halfway out the front door, when the
desk clerk called him back. 

"Hey, Markowitz. You gotta package." Ray turned and walked back, puzzled.
The clerk reached under the desk and pulled out a small box. "You never
struck me as the reading type." He held it out. Ray reached out and took
the package. A local bookstore's name appeared in the corner. 

"Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about me," he told the clerk,
shrugging. He took his package and went to the corner coffee shop. Seated
in the back, he looked at the box for a moment before turning it over and
opening it. Books. He'd been expecting something work related. He turned
them over and smiled. Books on the search for the Northwest Passage. There
was no card; nothing to indicate that Stan Markowitz hadn't ordered these
books. But the message was clear. Fraser was thinking about him. Ray
opened the first book, a compilation of journals by various explorers,
edited by Farley Mowat, and began reading. When he went to work that
night, the book went with him, comforting him with its presence.  

Later that week, he was eating dinner in an all night greasy spoon with
one of the other drivers, when a call for service came in. Tommy, a nice
kid, if not overly bright, was a great source of gossip. He saw and heard
everything and loved to repeat it all. Kowalski didn't even have to pry to
get him talking. Tommy had just dug into his ice cream sundae when the
radio crackled. Lance was off sick that night; a fact that had brightened
Ray's day. But it meant, technically, only one of them was allowed to take
a break at a time. Ray was the one officially clocked out. Tommy looked at
his sundae, stricken. 

"I'll take it," Ray said. "You go ahead and finish that." 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, I'm sure." Ray got up and threw some money on the table to cover
his bill and went to the truck. A BMW broken down on West Wacker. The
owner wanted it towed to their garage. When he arrived, he found a
businessman standing impatiently next to the car. 

"Who are you?" the man asked. 

"Name's Stan. You called for a tow?" Ray reminded him. 

"I know that. I just ... never mind." The man shook his head. 

"You want me to take a look at the engine?" Stan offered. 

"No. Just tow it to the garage. My wife's on her way there to pick me up."


"Whatever you say. Yer the customer." Stan quickly got the car onto the
truck, noticing that it was quite new, but already had two bumper stickers
plastered on the back and one of those stupid suction cup toys stuck to
the rear window. He rolled his eyes to himself. Guy buys an $65,000 car
and then goes and junks it up. Where was the dignity? He didn't even want
to think what Damian Kowalski would have done to him for doing something
like that to the GTO. The businessman was fairly quiet, but polite. Just
sort of blended into the passenger seat. When they arrived at the garage,
his wife was waiting, in her recent model Volvo. Just your basic yuppie
couple, Ray thought. Kids were at home, probably with the nanny. Rough
life. It would make good fodder for Stan to complain about tomorrow. The
man tipped him and got in the car with his wife. They waited while Ray
unhooked the car. Shaking his head, he left it in front of the garage and
then drove away.   

"We had another carjacking last night," Welsh informed him the following
day. 

"Damn! Anyone hurt?" 

"Just bruised. One thing about the publicity. People are a lot more
willing to sacrifice their cars now." 

"Better than their life." 

"Precisely." 

"Where did it happen?" 

"West Shore Drive. Black 2000 BMW. They took it around midnight. As usual,
no one got a good look at the perps and they went around a corner and
vanished." 

"Midnight, huh." Ray was thoughtful. 

"You got something?" Welsh picked up on his tone. 

"Maybe. I towed a new black Beemer from Wacker last night. Guy wanted it
taken to a garage because it had broken down. Didn't want me to look at
the engine though. Could just be 'cause he doesn't trust anyone but Hans
to look at his valuable car. Did the stolen one have anything
distinguishing about it? Bumper stickers for example?" 

"No. It was perfectly clean. Still had paper plates." Ray thought about
that. 

"I may have something Lieutenant. I'm gonna check on something. I'll get
back to ya." 

"Kowalski!" Ray disconnected the phone before that conversation could go
any further. He still had an hour before work. Not really enough time to
go check out the garage. But during his shift ... he figured he could
manage that. He could use the excuse that he thought he'd dropped his
pocket knife near there. He quickly took his knife out of his pocket and
placed it with the cell phone in the floor boards.   

It was about 3:00 a.m. before he was able to get back to the garage where
he had towed the BMW. He parked slightly down the street. He didn't want
to pull attention right away if anyone was there, but he knew that if he
was really searching for his knife, he'd be in front. Taking a flashlight,
he began playing it on the ground. No one came out to question him. The
garage appeared dark. After a moment, he went over and banged on the door.
No answer. He peered in through a window. One car inside. An old beat up
Plymouth. Kowalski pulled out his glasses and made a note of the plate.
One beater car, a whole lot of empty space and tools. "Weird garage," Ray
muttered to himself. He heard the radio crackling in his truck and went
back to find he had a tow waiting.  

"I think I got something," he told Welsh on the phone the next day. 

"I can't believe you went there alone," Welsh told him, clearly furious. 

"I wanted ta check before I sent everyone shooting in the wrong
direction." 

"And if they'd been shooting last night?" Welsh pointed out. "Fraser will
kill you, if he finds out." 

"So, don't tell on me. If he kills me, I can't finish this job. Ya still
need me." Ray said smartly. "Look, I'm thinking I start carrying a pager.
You page me the minute we hear about another carjacking. I head over to
the garage. I talk to 'em, try to get 'em to admit to it, by claiming I
want a piece of the action. They admit to it, back up comes in and arrests
'em." 

"Back up. What a novel idea, Detective. I'm so glad you thought of it. You
would be wearing a wire to this meeting, I presume?" 

"Maybe we could wire the truck or somethin'? These guys are pros. We know
that already." 

"Which is why you went to check out their potential headquarters without
the aforementioned back up last night ..?" 

"Yeah, okay. So maybe not the brightest thing I ever did," Kowalski
finally conceded. 

"Your plan does have some potential." Having made his point, the
Lieutenant was willing to give credit where credit was due. "I'll make
sure you get what you need at your parole meeting this week." 

"Greatness!"  

The next several nights were quiet. Ray drove around the city, hooking
cars and performing minor mechanical services. The plate on the beat up
Plymouth had come back to a beat up Plymouth over on the east side of the
city. Fraser and Vecchio had checked the car in question and found it
sitting in front of it's proper address, without a license plate attached.
//Have ta kind of admire these guys,// Ray thought. //They're nothing if
not thorough.// Between tow calls, he checked the pager's batteries and
resisted the temptation to call Fraser. He also resisted the temptation to
drive by his apartment and see if the lights were on. He checked the
batteries again. He'd also picked up a small police scanner. Lance picked
up on his heightened mood and began pushing for a fight again, even trying
to start a shoving match. Ray held tight, maintaining control, even while
a part of him was just begging for the release. He just gave Lance his
most psychotic look and walked away. He continued to check in with Welsh
before and after work. When his pager finally did go off, five nights
later, he was just finishing up with a call. He unhooked the car on his
truck and requested a lunch break. Once cleared, he took off to the
warehouse and parked around the corner. He quickly got out and went to a
spot he'd scoped out on his last visit. It gave him a clear view of the
garage, but was in the shadows. Then he waited. When the tow truck came
around the corner and pulled up in front of the garage, Ray let out a sigh
of relief. He took note of the car. A new model Jaguar was on the hook. It
had two familiar bumper stickers on the rear. The driver was Lance, making
Ray very happy, and the passenger ... was the same man Ray had brought to
this garage with his BMW. Ray waited and watched while they unhooked the
car and put it in the garage. The two men worked together in silence. They
had obviously done this before. Lance came out and got back in the tow
truck and left. The other man waited, glancing at his watch, clearly
irritated. The Volvo pulled up a moment later. Ray chose this moment to
walk out of the shadows. 

"Hey," he called out. Startled, the man reached into his pocket and pulled
out a gun. Ray held his hands out from his side. "No worries," he said. "I
just want to talk." 

"About what?" The man watched him warily. 

"Your operation here. Whether or not you got space for another guy. Maybe
somebody who's not quite so eager to get into a fight." 

"Yeah, Lance mentioned you. Says you won't fight him." 

"So you know who I am." 

"Yeah. I asked about you after that other night. Guess Lance
underestimated you." 

"People usually do." Ray shrugged, casually, still holding his hands in
plain sight. "I read the paper the next day. Came back and checked this
place out and found it empty. Put two and two together and here I am." 

"How'd you know we'd be here tonight?" 

"I picked up a police scanner. Ya can get all kinds o' interesting
information that way." 

"So, what do you want? Money?" 

"Yeah ... but I'm willing to earn it. I want in. I want to make enough
money to blow this town, go somewhere where I don't gotta report in every
week on what a good little boy I been and worry that I might o' been seen
talkin' to the wrong guy. Somewhere I can have a beer if I want. I want to
get the hell out of that dive I been livin' in and start livin'. I can't
do that as a tow truck driver. But workin' for you ... I could save up
some money I bet. Enough to find my way out o' this miserable place,
anyway." The man was watching him. Ray shrugged. "Think about it. I could
do you some good. I got all the right skills. And I'm thinking you could
use another driver. That thing with me the other night ... that wasn't
planned. Let me guess. Lance was out sick. I know that. But you had a
customer. You needed the car. You figured you'd use Tommy, who's not so
bright. But how many times can you use him before even he tumbles? Me, I
already know. I could be a big help." He wanted to talk the guy down. Had
to convince him. This wasn't enough. There were more people involved and
Ray wanted them all. But mostly he wanted the guy that threw the kid out
of the car. The gun lowered. The man still held it, but he was watching
Ray carefully. 

"Stan, right? " Ray nodded. "So, Stan, how do I know that I can trust you?
It'd be a lot easier to just dump your body than have to worry about you."


"You see any cops in the area? If I was gonna turn you in, I'd've already
done it. There's a pretty good reward out there, but I'm guessing I can
make more working for you." 

"Again, why shouldn't I just dump your body?" 

"'Cause you don't know what kind of information I've left lyin' around,"
Ray said, grinning an evil little grin. 

"Why work with us instead of blackmailing us?" The guy was trying to
figure the angle. 

"Gives you less reason to wanna off me. Gives me a chance to work with
someone who actually knows what they're doin' would be nice. Who knows?
Maybe I'll branch you out into some other city. The tow truck angle.
That's slick!" Ray's tone was admiring. 

"You a mechanic." 

"Try me." 

"I'm going to." The man came closer and motioned Ray to move his arms
higher. He quickly patted him down. Finding no weapons, he stepped back.
"All right now. Here's how this is going to work. You're going back to
your truck and call in that you don't feel so good. Then you're spending
the night under my watch. And tomorrow we'll have a little test." 

"You're the boss," Ray said, shrugging. He motioned down the street. "You
gonna follow me ta the truck? Make sure I'm a good little boy and all?" 

"Absolutely." Ray walked back to his truck and called in. He drove the
truck back to the lot and clocked out sick. Exiting the yard, he found the
man waiting for him. Shrugging into his jacket, he climbed into the
passenger seat of the Volvo. He knew the man was holding a gun on him in
the back seat, but acted as if that was no concern.  

"You got a name?" he finally asked. 

"Weller. Mr. Weller, to you." 

"Whatever," Stan shrugged. He looked at the woman driving the car. "And
you must be the lovely Mrs. Weller." She smiled, but it wasn't friendly.
He sat back in the car and relaxed as best he could.   

"Damn!" Welsh swore. He was furious. Vecchio sat on his desk, watching the
Lieutenant pace back and forth in the office. "How could you let him go
off with these people?" 

"How could we not? It's the way he played it. And if we want to get the
rest of these guys, we're gonna just have to sit tight. There's gotta be
more guys in on this than just those two. If we just take them, we could
be losing the most important people," Vecchio said in a reasonable tone.
He wasn't looking at Fraser though. No way could he take the look in the
Mountie's eyes. 

"The tracer's still working?" 

"Yes, sir. Huey and Dewey are on it." 

"But we don't have the wire anymore." 

"No. That was with the truck. He was right about that though. If he'd been
wearing it, they'd have found it." 

"Damn!" Welsh swore again.  

Ray spent the night locked in a bedroom of a suburban home. He looked
around the room and figured he might as well try to get some sleep. Now
that he was actually in, he found himself relaxed. Alert and aware, but
relaxed. He'd been in this kind of position before and there was nothing
else to be done. He lay down on the bed and tried to get some sleep. He
was awakened the next morning by a sharp rap on the door.  

"Get up. We're leaving in 5 minutes." Ray smiled to himself and rolled his
head sharply, cracking his neck. "Time ta rock and roll," he muttered
under his breath and then went to greet the morning.  

"Heads up," Dewey said into the radio, as he and Huey watched from down
the street. They saw Ray walk out and climb into the driver's seat of the
Volvo. Around the corner, Fraser and Vecchio waited to pick up the tail.
Fraser was abnormally silent and Vecchio was having trouble handling it.
Adding to the silence was the odd conversation he'd had with his sister,
that morning.  

"Ray?" 

"What?" 

"You know how you once said that guys like Fraser don't marry girls like
me?" 

"Vaguely." 

"So ... what kind of guy is he?" 

"What kind o' question is that?" 

"Well, you know. Is he one of those kind of guys?" 

"Frannie, what are you talking about?" 

"It's just ... well, something Kowalski said. Made me kind of wonder." 

"Wonder what!?" Vecchio felt like he was being sucked into a black hole.
Not only didn't he know where this conversation was going; he wasn't even
sure he knew where it had started. 

"If they're ... you know. Together." 

"No, they are not together. Fraser is here. Ray is undercover." 

"Not that kind of together. Together, together!" Vecchio finally grasped
what his sister was trying to say. 

"NO! No way! Not Benny. No. No. I just meant ... well ... he's just so
...." Vecchio trailed off. The word he'd been about to use was virginal
... pure... but that had been before Victoria. "Just ... no."  

"Good. I mean, not that it would be, you know ... bad ... necessarily.
Just ... a really huge waste." And with that she had wandered off, leaving
Ray with half his face shaved and a question he really hadn't wanted to
think about.  

Now, as he was waiting to follow Ray's car, he had to admit, there was a
certain tenseness emanating from the seat beside him, that he had never
observed in the Mountie before. Of course, Vecchio reasoned, he had no
idea how Fraser had behaved when he was in a similar situation, with the
Mountie somewhere else, unable to directly interfere. This might be how
the Canadian always reacted when his partner was in danger and he wasn't
there. That had to be it. The car carrying Kowalski passed them. The blond
was sitting in the front passenger seat. He looked unharmed. Beside him,
Vecchio, could feel a slight release in the tension. He glanced over at
Fraser. The Mountie's expression was unreadable. Hating Francesca for even
putting these thoughts into his head, Vecchio looked back at the target.
They let the vehicle travel a good distance down the block before
following it. The tracer was still working, so they weren't overly
concerned about losing Kowalski that way. The men watching the garage had
advised that the car was still there and that another man had shown up
that morning. Lance.  

At the garage, Ray found himself facing the other tow driver. 

"Well, look at you," Lance said walking up and trying to stare him down.
"Think you're pretty smart, don't you?" 

"Smart enough," Ray told him evenly. 

"Knock it off, Lance." Weller came up to the them. He had discarded his
suit this morning, in favor of jeans and a t-shirt. No longer the innocent
businessman with the broken down car, he was ready to go to work. "Stan
here wants to join us. I'm giving him the chance to prove he's got any
talents we're interested in. He can help us get the car ready." 

"And if he doesn't" 

"He dies," Weller said shrugging.  

"Not till I get ta fight him." 

"If I'm gonna die, why in Hell would I want to fight you?" Ray asked him.
He turned to Weller. "What do you want me to do?"  

The day passed fairly quickly for Ray, who was busy inside the garage. It
was considerably longer for the men on the outside. 

"What can they be doing?" Fraser asked for what felt like the 100th time. 

"Getting the car ready to move out," Vecchio repeated yet again. 

"Maybe we should go check." 

"Fraser, Welsh only let us be here, 'cause we promised we wouldn't
interfere. We gotta trust Kowalski. He's good at this, Benny. He's a smart
guy. Knows how to handle himself." Evening came and still no one left the
garage. Around 8:00 p.m., another man went in.	

"It's about time!" Weller said, walking over to him. "The car's been ready
for the last two hours. Where have you been?" 

"Relax," the new man said. "Everything is under control. He looked over at
the Jaguar, which was now painted bright red. "All ready?" he asked. 

"Yeah, it's ready. No thanks to you!" 

"Overtime shift with the parking service and before you get all bent out
of shape, I picked up some great information." He pulled a small notebook
out of his pocket and handed it to Weller. "Big fundraising luncheon. All
kinds of big money there in their very fine cars." He smiled. 

"All right," Weller said grudgingly. "You're lucky we had help though, or
we'd never have finished in time." 

"Help? Who?" Daly demanded. 

"That new tow driver I mentioned. The one that picked up that tow when
Lance was home throwing up."  

"You brought in someone new? Without asking?" 

"Hey - he found us. I figured this way I could keep an eye on him. He's
sharp. A lot more controlled than Lance, too. Might be, he's what we're
looking for." 

"A small group, John. We agreed on a small group. There was a reason for
that." Daly's eyes narrowed in anger. Ray watched the exchange from a
discrete distance, partially blocked by a pillar. Weller looked toward
Lance, who was busy cleaning up the paint supplies and lowered his voice.
He and Daly carried on a quiet conversation, punctuated by hand gestures.
Finally Daly nodded. Weller looked up and motioned Ray over. 

"Oh, Shit! What's he doin' here?" Daly yelled. 

"He's the guy I been talking about ... Stan." 

"He's a cop, you idiot! His name's Vecchio. Works out of the 27th." 

"You sure?" Weller had stepped back and was regarding the blond with a
doubtful look. 

"What the Hell you talkin' about?" Ray demanded in an angry tone. "Who's
Vecchio?" 

"Don't deny it Vecchio," Daly said menacingly. Ray turned to Weller. 

"I am not this Vecchio guy. I mean, fer cryin' out loud, do I even
remotely look Italian?" 

"Could be Northern Italian." 

"Yeah, right. Look - call his station. Ask 'em ta describe Vecchio. I just
bet he ain't no blond, blue eyed ... Italian." Weller looked back and
forth between the two men, suddenly uncertain. "Go ahead. Call 'em!" Ray
demanded. 

"What if it turns out he is a blue eyed blond?" 

"Then I guess I'm in a world o' hurt." 

"Make the call," Weller directed. 

"He's a cop." 

"I said make the call," Weller snapped. Turning back to Ray, he trained a
gun on him. "I'm sure you won't mind if I take some ... precautions ...
while we wait?" 

"Whatever. I got no worries," Ray shrugged. They waited. Eventually Daly
came back. 

"I can't get a straight answer. I think they're afraid I want to off him
... well actually, I guess I do," he said coldly smiling at Ray as he
approached. "I'll do him," he told Weller. "It'll be fun to kill someone
who actually knows what hit him." Ray forced himself to remain calm and
still. Daly grinned at him. "Killin' a kid and a little old lady ... well,
that's hardly sport. But you ... you could be a lot of fun." 

"We don't have time for your games, right now," Weller interceded. "I'll
take care of our little ... problem. I'm sure you'll understand we can't
take chances," he said waving the gun at Ray. "Turn around." Numbly, the
blond complied, knowing he had nowhere to run; nowhere to hide. //I blew
it, Ben,// he thought. //I am so sorry.// He felt a sharp pain in the back
of his head and the world went dark.  

"The Jaguar's leaving. Two occupants." Welsh said over the radio. "It's
red. Plate is 393WRC. Southbound on Wacker. And the Volvo's going too.
Northbound. One occupant." 

"Jaguar's heading this way," Vecchio told Fraser. 

"There!" The Mountie pointed. 

"He's speeding. We got probable cause for a stop." Vecchio reached for the
radio. "We've got the Jaguar. It's definitely in a hurry. Just ran a red
light." 

"The tracer's moving. Southbound," Welsh came back. "Kowalski's in the
Jag. We're going into the garage. Marked units will follow your lead,
Vecchio. Huey, you and Dewey take the Volvo." 

"Copy," came Dewey's voice over the radio. 

"We're on the Jag," Vecchio confirmed. "Vehicle is still proceeding
Southbound on Wacker. Roadway is clear. Speed is 47." Fraser reached out
and took the radio from Vecchio, to allow the Chicago detective to
concentrate on driving. The Mountie continued calling out the direction of
travel, speed and road conditions for other responding units. They had not
activated their sirens yet, not knowing what the situation was, and not
wanting to endanger Kowalski. The Jaguar continued to speed up, though.
Finally, Ray activated the emergency light and put it on top of the car.  

"Gotta let people know we're coming. Can't have 'em getting in the way,"
he said to Fraser. 

"Understood," the Mountie told him, firmly focused on the car in front of
them. The Jaguar took a sudden and sharp turn to the left. Vecchio
followed it and Fraser relayed the change in direction. Now that the
driver of the stolen car knew he was being chased, he had nothing to lose
and poured it on. Vecchio and Fraser, knowing Kowalski was in that car,
hung on with grim determination.  

"They threw a small child out of a car," Fraser whispered. 

"I know, Benny." 

"They won't have a problem killing Ray." 

"They don't necessarily know he's a cop." 

"What else are they going to think?" 

"Coincidence?" Vecchio tried. The Jaguar took another sharp turn, rear
tires fishtailing out behind it. Ahead, officers in marked patrol units
were closing off side streets, keeping the roadway clear; protecting
citizens from crossing paths with the chase. Spike strips were probably
being laid up ahead as well, the Chicago detective knew. He just kept his
eye on the car, letting Fraser worry about where they were. The driver of
the Jaguar flung the car into an alley, sending garbage cans flying.
Vecchio followed. The Jaguar took another turn and suddenly Vecchio knew
where he was trying to go.  

"Yes!" he muttered. 

"What?" Fraser's keen ears had picked up the quiet word. 

"He's heading for the freeway." 

"Then they can lay spike strips." 

"No, Benny. They tore down the overpass last week. He's gonna run out of
road." 

"What do you mean?"  

"There's no more road. Chase over." 

"What happens when there's no more road?" Fraser asked quietly. 

"There's signs, Benny. He's gonna have to crash through 'em. He should
have plenty of time to stop." 

"And if he doesn't?" Both men were silent. Vecchio began to let up on his
speed just a little, giving the car in front the chance to slow down some.
The driver of the Jaguar, punched it instead. He swung into the turn for
the overpass. Too, late he saw the warning signals. The Jaguar blasted
through the road closed signs. Brake lights suddenly appeared and the rear
of the car fishtailed from side to side and then, finally spun, out of
control. Vecchio held his breath as it slid to the the edge of the roadway
and slightly beyond ... and stopped.   

The car teetered at the edge. Vecchio and Fraser sat, momentarily
paralyzed, then at the same moment, jumped from the Riviera and ran
towards the tenuously balanced car. One of the suspects suddenly scrambled
out of the driver's side and took off running. Vecchio headed him off and
tackled him. In the ensuing struggle, he didn't see the Jaguar slipping
over the edge. The sound of the crash was his first clue. Still holding
the criminal down on the ground, he turned his head in time for the
ensuing explosion and watched as a ball of fire rose into the sky.  

"Oh God," he whispered. Silhouetted against the sky was Fraser, standing
immobile, looking over the edge. The Mountie swayed and Vecchio suddenly
found he couldn't breathe; could only watch in terror and then sharp
relief when Fraser fell to his knees, still on the roadway. The Chicago
detective stood and hauled the suspect to his feet. Dragging him over, he
roughly handcuffed his prisoner to a light pole, then ran to his friend. 

"Benny?" 

"Ray." Something in the Mountie's voice, told Vecchio that it wasn't his
name that Fraser was saying.  

"Oh, God. Kowalski ... Benny. Oh, God," Vecchio repeated, stunned. Fraser
didn't hear him, just continued staring at the blazing car below. Ray. His
Ray. Gone. He should have held him back that morning at his apartment,
should have gone with him, should never have let him leave Canada ...
should have done something ... anything. The first sob spilled raggedly
out of his throat, of its own volition. Vecchio had never heard so much
pain in one sound. He knelt next to the Mountie, wrapping his arms around
him, trying to impart any measure of comfort that he could. Oblivious to
the sound of sirens and the flashing lights that appeared around them,
Fraser choked out his pain to the world. Visions of the blond kept
appearing in his mind, each a new source of pain. Kowalski flashing his
sunny grin. Sleeping peacefully in his arms. Confessing that he loved him.
 

"I should have been with him," he tried to say, but he couldn't get the
words to form between the wracking sobs. //I can't do this// he thought.
//I cannot bear this. It is too much.// He became aware of Vecchio,
holding him, saying over and over again how sorry he was, and felt a flash
of resentment. If Vecchio had remained undercover, his Ray might still be
with him. He quickly dismissed this for the unreasonable thought that it
was, but shook off Vecchio's hands. He did not want to be comforted. Could
not be. 

"Come on Benny. Come on." Vecchio tried again, taking his arm and trying
to guide him away from the edege. Tears were running down his face as
well. 

"No," Fraser choked out. "I need ... I want ... I can't ..." He gestured
at the burning car helplessly. Other officers had arrived now, and the
Italian could hear fire engines being called and directed to the roadway
below. He concentrated on his friend. 

"Remember him the way he was," Vecchio pleaded. "Trust me. You do not want
to see this." 

"I can't leave him. I promised," Fraser whispered. //Oh, Ray. I promised
you my hand and my time. There was supposed to be time.// 

"Please, come away." Vecchio was begging, but didn't care. The look on his
best friend's face was terrifying him. The fire department was pulling up
to the car and Vecchio badly wanted to get Benny away before they found
anything ... or anyone. He moved between Fraser and the view. "He'd want
me to take care of you. Please let me do that for him." 

"Ray. His name was Ray." Fraser looked at Vecchio, his face distorted and
ugly with grief. The blond had been his. How dare Vecchio presume to know
what the blond had wanted. It hadn't been much: friendship, security and
love. So little for a person to ask. So much to receive ... and Fraser had
wanted nothing more than to give him those things. 

"Come on," Vecchio was tugging at him, trying to pull him away from the
scene. Fraser ignored him, staying put, forcing himself to breathe deeply;
to regain some semblance of control. The only thing he could do for Ray
now was be with him on his final journey; make sure that he was not alone
at any point of it. The thought of the blond lying alone in the morgue, a
place he'd dreaded and feared so much, brought more pain, but he shoved it
down brutally. He had to be strong now, had to get through this for Ray.
And when it was over, when Ray had been laid to rest, he could return to
Canada, journey to his father's cabin alone and collapse there. Vecchio
watched him. Saw despair settle over the Mountie's face and then watched
it being replaced by an expressionless mask. The grief had been bad, but
this ... this was worse, he realized. //I am way outta my depth, here,//
he thought, looking around frantically for help. There was none. Everyone
else on the scene was concerned with the mechanics of the crash, leaving
Vecchio to handle Fraser alone. //Help me, God. Please.// he offered up as
a silent prayer. 

"Come on, Benny," he tried again. 

"No. I will remain here. Thank you, kindly." Fraser stared straight ahead
at the scene below. His voice was completely devoid of emotion. Vecchio
stepped back, afraid. This was not Benny. This was ... a robot ... Benny
with all the life sucked right out of him. Behind him, he heard his name
on the radio in his car. He ignored it, preferring to concentrate on his
friend. 

"They are calling you Ray." 

"They can keep calling. You're who's important here, Benny." 

"Don't be silly." The words were right, but the voice ... the voice was so
wrong. "They may have a question regarding the case and since Ray Kowalski
saw fit to give his life for it, the least that we can do is make sure
that it is brought to a proper and successful conclusion."  

Vecchio stumbled back to the car, still keeping his eye on the Mountie. He
answered the radio, trying to keep his voice calm. It was Welsh. Still
focused on Fraser, he missed what the Lieutenant was trying to tell him. 

"What, sir?" he asked. 

"He's here," Welsh's voice repeated. "Kowalski. He wasn't in the car. He's
here. We have him here." Vecchio leaned against the side of the car,
suddenly dizzy. He took a deep breath.	

"How ... how is he?" 

"Concussed. Cold. Mad 'cause he missed all the excitement." Vecchio let
the breath out. Fraser, his sensitive hearing having caught part of the
conversation was staring back at the car, a terrified look on his face. 

"We'll be right there, sir." 

"Don't bother. He's going to County General to be checked out." In the
background, Vecchio heard a squawk of protest and smiled, tears flowing
down his face again. He looked up. Fraser began hesitantly approaching the
car, afraid to ask, afraid to hope. 

"We'll ... we'll see you there," Vecchio managed. He stood up and met the
Mountie halfway. "He's alive. He's okay."  

"You're certain?" Ben pleaded. 

"Welsh wouldn't lie about that. And I heard him in the background. He's
alive, Benny." Fresh tears were tracking down the Mountie's face. 

"Please?" he whispered. 

"Right away," Ray assured him, sliding into the driver's seat. "Come on." 
 

Lieutenant Welsh was waiting for them in the E.R. "He's being seen. We'll
just have to wait." He looked the Mountie up and down and smiled kindly.
"He should be fine. They knocked him out and tossed him in a tool locker.
Took away his clothes. Guess they figured it would slow him down some if
he escaped. Explains why the tracer was in the car." Vecchio nodded. Welsh
looked at him and then down at his arm. "You look like you could use some
attention too, Detective." 

"What?" Puzzled, Vecchio followed the lieutenant's eyes down to his hand.
It was covered in blood and swollen. 

"Must've got it when I was fighting the perp'. Didn't even notice." 

"Get it looked at," Welsh said, jerking his head. Vecchio opened his mouth
to object, looking at Fraser. "Go," Welsh ordered. Then, catching the look
of concern in his Detective's eyes, he added, "I'll wait here with the
Constable." Vecchio smiled gratefully. 

"Yes, sir." He went and spoke to one of the nurses, who showed him back
into a curtained room. Welsh nodded toward the seats in the waiting room
and Fraser followed him, obediently. They sat quietly for a few minutes. 

"He'll be fine, Constable. He's pretty tough." There was no question as to
who Welsh was referring to. 

"That's what he wants everyone to think," Fraser said softly. Welsh looked
at him sharply, then smiled. 

"I don't mean he's Superman, or anything like that. But he's strong
enough, especially where it counts. Inside. Stronger than most. Think
about all he's had to deal with this last year? How many guys you know who
could've survived half the crap he's been through, even with the help of a
good friend such as yourself?" 

"Not many," Fraser was forced to admit, on reflection. 

"Besides, he's not going to let anything interfere with that adventure of
yours." 

"No," Fraser said, finally smiling a little. "I suppose not." They sat in
a companionable silence, the Canadian looking up anxiously every time
anyone came out of the patient area. Finally, Vecchio emerged, his hand
wrapped and his arm in a sling. He walked up to his friend and his boss. 

"I'll be fine," he announced. Then, trying to lighten the mood of the
room. "Just can't hit anyone for a week or so." 

"I can see where that might prove to be a serious inconvenience," Welsh
commented dryly. "I'm glad to hear the blow didn't rocket through your
body, causing permanent disability." 

"You're never gonna forget that, are you," Vecchio said. 

"It's unlikely," Welsh acknowledged. 

"Hey, Benny," Vecchio said, with a sideways glance at Fraser. "I could use
a little help here." The Mountie was still concentrating on the patient
area. 

"Excuse me?" He looked at his friend, startled. 

"I'm being accused of heinous crimes and you're miles away." 

"I'm sorry, Ray. I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention." 

"It's okay. Just I could use some back up here." Fraser suddenly stood up
and walked away. 

"It would appear that the Constable has other things on his mind right
now," Welsh commented, looking to where Fraser was headed. 

Kowalski, dressed in hospital scrubs, was limping towards them,
accompanied by a doctor. As Vecchio watched, Fraser reached them and took
off his jacket, wrapping it around the blond. Kowalski smiled and leaned
into him ever so slightly. The doctor looked at Fraser. 

"You must be the Mountie," he said. 

"Yes." Fraser said, a questioning look on his face. 

"He said we had to release him, because he had a Mountie to look after
him." 

"Ah," Fraser said, understanding. 

"Can't get better than that," Ray assured the doctor, who just shook his
head and began giving Fraser the necessary instructions for the care of
the blond. The Mountie was was listening intently as Welsh and Vecchio
approached.  

"Every two hours, then," the doctor was saying to the Mountie. Then
turning to Ray, "and try to stay off that ankle as much as possible for a
couple of days." Welsh looked toward the blond. 

"I'm good, Lieutenant. Bump on the head an' I kicked the locker a little
too hard." The doctor nodded in confirmation.  

"That is essentially correct. He's concussed and sprained his ankle. Some
bruises and abrasions. I expect he'll be quite stiff by tomorrow. He's not
to go back to work without a clearance." 

"He's pretty good at coming up with those ... how about a timeline?" Welsh
suggested. Kowalski shook his head in resignation.  

"At least four days," the doctor told him. 

"Thank you."  

"You're cold," Fraser said, looking at the blond, who was standing with
his arms wrapped around himself. 

"Yeah. But yer an expert in that," Kowalski grinned. 

"Lieutenant?" Kowalski turned to Welsh, suddenly serious. 

"What?" 

"Daly?" 

"Probably dead." 

"Probably?" 

"Pending the autopsy of the body in the car. We need that to confirm it." 

"It has to be him. He can't get away. He wanted to kill me bad. He likes
it. He's the one that did the old lady and the kid." 

"We know who he is, Detective. If by some miracle he escaped that car,
we'll find him." 

"I gotta get over there!" Ray insisted. 

"No and that is an order," Welsh said firmly. "The only place you are
going is home and you are going to stay there until the Mountie thinks
you're well enough to leave. You can write your reports there and I'll
come by and pick them up when you're done." 

"But, Lieutenant ..." 

"No buts, Detective. If he gives you any problems, Constable, I'm
authorizing you to handcuff him to the bedpost. We'll consider it a
citizen's arrest." 

"But ..." 

"Ahh!" Welsh raised a cautionary hand, cutting the blond off before he
could vocalize his protest. "Not another word!" he ordered. Then,
softening. "You did good, Kowalski." 

Ray flashed him a shy smile. "Thanks," he said. 

"Now - Go!" 

"Come on. I'll drive you guys," Vecchio offered. 

Inside the apartment, Ray turned to Fraser, about to say something. The
Mountie pulled him into an embrace, holding him tight, reassuring himself
that the blond was still with him. 

"Uh ... ow?" Ray finally protested. 

"Sorry!" Fraser released him immediately. 

"S'okay," the blond said, showing no inclination to move away. "Just maybe
not so hard." He yawned, then winced, reaching up to rub his head. Fraser
put his arms back around Ray, holding him more gently. 

"Headache?" 

"Killer, " Kowalski said. Fraser nodded and continued to hold his partner,
gently rubbing his back. 

"You scared me," he finally admitted. 

"You really thought I was dead?" 

"Yes. I ... I saw the car go over the edge ... and then it exploded. We
... I ... believed you were in it." His voice betrayed some of the anguish
he'd felt at that horrible moment. 

"I'm sorry," Ray said, bringing his own arms up around the Mountie.
"Thought I was a goner myself, for a bit there. I guess they just smacked
me over the head. I thought ... I knew he was gonna shoot me. And I was so
sorry I'd screwed up ... blown us, ya know?" Fraser pressed his forehead
against the other man's. 

"It would hardly have been your fault, Ray." 

"Whatever. Guess Lance stole my jacket. That's where I had the tracer. He
really wanted it. Kept tryin' ta get me ta fight him for it. I liked that
jacket." 

"Better the jacket than you," Fraser pointed out. 

"That's a fact," with a half laugh. Then, "I'm sorry you had to go through
that." 

"I don't want to do it again," Fraser told him honestly. Ray looked at
him, suddenly uncertain. "I love you," the Mountie told him, reassuringly.
"It's just that, when I thought you were ... gone ... that I had lost you
... it was ... more than I could bear," he whispered. He closed his eyes,
fighting the chill that memory brought. He was startled by a soft touch on
his forehead and then his nose. He opened his eyes as Ray moved down to
kiss his lips, lingering there. Fraser leaned into that kiss. It was
gentle and friendly and it warmed him. Ray suddenly jerked back. The
Canadian looked at him, alarmed. The blond yawned, a wide, bone-cracking
yawn. Then he blinked his eyes and looked back at his friend. 

"Sorry," Ray said in a sheepish tone. 

"It's all right. Let's get you to bed."  

"With you?" in a hopeful tone. 

"I'm not letting you out of my sight." 

"Works for me."  

Ray slept well for the first time in what seemed like forever, despite
Fraser's waking him up every two hours and asking questions. 

"Who's the prime minister of Canada, Ray?" 

"We're checking for head injury, not brain transplant, Frase." 

"Right you are." 

"Just kiss me and let me go back to sleep." 

"Understood." The rest of the night and a good portion of the following
day passed in a similar pattern.   

Ray woke alone the next afternoon. Confused for a moment, he sat up and
looked around, wondering how much of it had been a dream. The still
persistent headache and the general soreness of his body answered part of
his question. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was 3:30 in the
afternoon. Running a hand through his already disheveled hair, he climbed
out of bed. Pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he stumbled into the living
room in search of Fraser and coffee. He was caught short by the sight of
Welsh and Vecchio sitting on his couch. 

"Good morning, Detective. Sleep well?" 

"Uh ... yeah ... Sir." Kowalski folded his arms over his bare chest,
wondering how disrespectful it would be if he fled back into his bedroom. 

"Have a seat. I'll get you some coffee," Vecchio said, standing. "Fraser's
down getting laundry or something. He should be right back." Kowalski
nodded and limped over to the chair and sat. Vecchio brought him a cup of
coffee and he clasped it gratefully in his hands." 

"Thanks." 

"Sure." Vecchio returned to his seat next to Welsh. The Lieutenant was
shuffling through papers the blond recognized as the statement he had
dictated to Fraser in some of his wakeful periods. He took a sip from the
coffee. 

"Hey this is good!" he said in surprise. 

"You think I'd take a chance with anything you'd keep in the kitchen?"
Vecchio teased him. Kowalski was saved from having to think of a clever
reply by Fraser's return. 

"Hello, Ray." 

"Hey," the blond said, smiling. Fraser carried a pile of neatly folded
clothing past him into the bedroom. A moment later he returned, holding a
flannel shirt, which he gave to Kowalski. The smaller man slipped it on
and sat back feeling considerably more at ease. Fraser sat down on the
floor next to Kowalski's chair, close, but not touching. 

"Well, Detective. It looks like you had figured out most of it from your
statement here. I just thought you'd like to hear what's going on." 

"Yeah, thanks." 

"The body in the car has been positively id'd as Daly." He looked over his
glasses. "You owe Mort for that. He worked overtime so you could have a
positive answer as soon as possible." Kowalski nodded. "Daly was picking
up information on cars through his work at the valet parking company.
We're checking to be certain, but I think we'll find all of the victims
attended an event where he worked. That was our missing link between
them." 

"Yeah. Daly said something to Weller about having to work late, but
gettin' a bunch of new cars, when he came to the garage. So when he parked
'em, he'd go and look for the registration and copy down the address." 

"Exactly. Then when they needed a particular car, they would just look
through his list and go pick it up. Lance had a key to the tow yard and a
deal with the dispatchers where he would slip them a couple bucks and
borrow the trucks to "moonlight." When the suburbs got too hot, they
started following the victims and snatching the cars when the owners
parked 'em. The carjacking's started when they ran out of time to get one
of the cars. They had customers waiting." 

"Sounds like Weller and Lance are doin' a lot of talking." 

"Yes. They have indicated a strong willingness to make a deal. They both
know that if this goes to trial, they'll get slammed with that kid's
murder. Whether or not they actually threw him out of the car won't make
any difference. They were involved in the crime. The old lady's death is
icing as far as that's concerned. They have a lot of information on their
customers and are in a good position to make a deal." 

"So ... what? They're ... they're just gonna walk?" Kowalski's voice was
rising. "They were involved with that kid's death. They kept goin' after.
They didn't stop or turn in Daly ... they just kept takin' more cars. How
long before another kid got killed?" He stopped, wincing and putting his
hand to his forehead.  

"Relax, Detective. They will do time. A lot of it," Welsh said in a gentle
tone. 

"Stella's on top of it, Ray," Vecchio added. "She won't be prosecuting
since she's so involved, but she's making sure that it goes right. They'll
get a hope of parole someday and in exchange, they'll help shut down some
other car rings ... maybe prevent other deaths." Kowalski was still
breathing hard through his nose, trying to slow the pounding in his head. 


"Weller did save your life," Fraser said suddenly. The blond slowly turned
to look at him. 

"Yeah, he did," he admitted after a moment. 

"Weller figured if you were a cop, he wanted you alive," Vecchio told him.
"He knew that you just vanishing wouldn't make the rest of us go away. He
says he's been looking for a way out since the guy got hit with a tire
iron. His wife is Daly's twin sister though. Made things a little
complicated." 

"If ya believe him. He was pretty slick ... pretty smart. I think he just
figured the angles and the risks." 

"Probably. But he won't get off, Ray. You know Stella wouldn't let that
happen. And look on the bright side. They make a deal, there's no trial.
They'll still do hard time. Daly's dead, so he can't hurt anyone anymore.
And you and Benny are free to go off and look for that hand thing.
Personally, if I was taking time off, I'd be thinking sunny beach in
Florida, not freeze my ass off looking for some dead guy's body parts, but
to each his own I guess," he said grinning. 

"Right," Kowalski said, giving him a crooked smile.   

The Lieutenant and Vecchio left shortly after. Fraser walked them down to
their car. When he returned, he found Ray still in the chair, his eyes
closed and his head leaned back. 

"You're going back to bed," he said. 

"I'd argue ... but I want to lose," the blond said, opening his eyes
slightly. 

"I can tell. Come along." Fraser reached out a hand and pulled Ray to his
feet and then into his arms. He held him close for a moment and then
stepped back and led the smaller man into the bedroom. Ray crawled back
onto the bed, collapsing on his face. The bed creaked beside him, as the
Mountie sat down. "Turn onto your back," he instructed. Ray complied,
slowly, his eyes still closed. Then he felt Fraser's hands, one on each
side of his head, gently massaging his temples. "Just relax," the Mountie
told him. 

"S'nice," he commented drowsily. 

"That was the general idea." Ray could hear the smile in his friend's
voice and it brought one to his face as well. Then he gave himself up to
his exhaustion and the soft touch of Fraser's hands and drifted off to
sleep.	

Two weeks later, they stood at O'Hare Airport waiting for the first of
several planes that would take them to their destination. Muldoon's trial
was scheduled to start in four days and Ray was going with Fraser. Weller
and Lance had both accepted plea bargains. Ray had made it to court to
listen to them plead guilty, but other than that he'd spent most of his
time sleeping. He'd gotten sick again and was just now recovering.
Leighton had made several house calls. Two days ago, he'd just shaken his
head and consigned the blond to the care of the Mountie.  

"His body will carry him as long as necessary. Once whatever is keeping
him going is over, though ..." he'd told Fraser. 

"He collapses." 

"Pretty much," agreed the doctor. Now, at the airport, Fraser found
himself keeping a watchful eye on his still recovering partner. Kowalski
was standing slightly apart from the group, speaking in a low voice with
Stella. The conversation looked serious. Vecchio, standing next to the
Mountie, motioned with his chin. 

"Should I be concerned?" he joked. "Good thing you're taking him outta
here." 

"You have no need to be concerned, Ray. Ray ... Kowalski ... is no longer
in love with Stella." 

"I know," Ray Vecchio assured him softly. He looked at the Mountie,
looking at Kowalski and shook his head. He'd watched them last night at
their farewell dinner at the Vecchio household as well. Both men always
seemed to know exactly where the other was at all times. But that didn't
mean anything. He and Fraser had had a similar instinct when they were
working. He shook his head. //Women!// he thought. //Why'd Francesca even
have to bring it up?// 

"Something wrong?" Fraser was watching him, a concerned look in his eyes. 

"Nah. I'm glad I get to say good bye this time. It didn't feel right last
time ... I didn't have a choice. You know that, right?" 

"I know," Fraser said. 

"You be careful, Benny. You understand? I expect to see both of you back
here, safe and sound one of these days." Fraser smiled and Vecchio basked
in its glow. 

"Thank you, kindly, Ray. You be careful too." 

"Are you kidding? Here in Chicago? What could possibly happen?" Fraser
raised his eyebrows and Ray started laughing. "Everything you're thinking
of only happened 'cause you were around. My life was boring before that.
Geez, I'd even been driving the same car for ten years." 

"So you were in a rut?" There was a glint in the Mountie's eyes. 

"A rut?" Vecchio protested, still laughing. Then, thinking back, he
sobered. "Yeah, I guess I kind of was." 

"As was I." 

"You? In a rut? You have to be kidding me." 

"No. My rut was isolation. Only coming to Chicago took me out of it." He
hesitated, looking down at his hat for a moment and then looking back up t
his first friend in Chicago, with an earnest expression. "I would never
have survived here without you." 

"Sure you would've, Benny," Vecchio said smiling at him. "Just it wouldn't
have been as much fun." 

"Fun?" Fraser thought back and then grinned. "Right you are." Vecchio
stepped forward and gave the Mountie a quick hug.  

"Don't let the polar bears eat you." 

"Well, actually, Ray. There is little threat of that. Polar bears ..." 

"I don't want the lecture, Benny. Just ... take care."	

"Understood." Kowalski and Stella came over, interrupting them. Kowalski
jerked his head up to the loudspeaker and Fraser nodded. 

"They're calling our plane for boarding," he said. Stella leaned forward
and kissed Kowalski on the cheek. Then she moved over and gave Fraser a
quick hug. 

"Take care of him," she said. "He's the only ex-husband I've got. I'm kind
of fond of him." 

"I will," Fraser promised. She stepped back to stand next to Vecchio, who
put his arm around her. Kowalski and the Mountie shouldered their carry on
luggage and with one last smile, turned for the gate. Stella and Ray
Vecchio watched them go. 

"I'm going to miss having him around," Stella confessed. 

"Me too. Both of them," Vecchio said, understanding. 

"Good thing we've got each other." Vecchio smiled down at her. 

"Yeah. A very good thing." They watched their friends board. Kowalski
turned around for a last wave and then they were gone. Vecchio kissed
Stella on the top of her head. "Let's go home," he said 

An hour later, on the plane, a sleeping Ray leaning against his side,
Fraser thought he was as happy as any man had a right to be. He tilted his
head slightly, drinking in the scent of his partner. They'd come a long
way, he and Ray, since their first meeting. But Ray had summed them up
right from the start. They were a duet. Each man was all right alone, but
together ... together they formed something truly special. The object of
his thoughts shifted and opened his eyes. 

"Frase? 

"Yes?" 

"Not a dream?" 

"No." 

"'S'good." 

"I think so."	   

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