Rating: NC-17
Pairing: F/K
Feedback: Please do send feedback! Journeyds@yahoo.com
Warnings: none
Acknowledgements: Thanks must go out to Denise Raymond, Kellie Matthews and AuKestrel for beta. I’m the luckiest writer around to have such a talented arsenal of betas. Many, many thanks, ladies.
Also particular thanks to Kellie who was a delightful companion while I wrote this and spent hours with me on AIM sharing bits of our stories back and forth. Not only was this sharing enjoyable, it was also extremely encouraging and inspirational. The fact that she wrote and finished five stories in the same amount of time it took me to finish this one story simply meant that I had lots of bits of pieces to read while she just kept getting pieces of this one. Thanks, Kellie, for coming back to the ‘same old, same old’ and still being interested.

Blueprint

By

Journey

SUNDAY

He stood silently in the crowd, waiting for the passengers to disembark. Automatically, he had assumed parade rest, legs apart, hands behind his back. He had received some second glances but the absence of his Stetson seemed to have made it easier for those who looked twice to then dismiss him from their thoughts. So he waited, alone, for Ray to arrive.

No one in the airport would have guessed it, but his stomach was tied in knots composed of anticipation, fear and some other emotion he would not name. None of that showed in his outward demeanor. He’d made quite sure. He’d had a lifetime of practice concealing his inner self, and in the past year he’d gotten so good at it there were times when even he was unable to tell what he was feeling.

Since their adventure had ended and Ray had returned home, Fraser had resettled himself at a new detachment in a small town in the Northwest Territories. He had missed Ray dreadfully, and, while he enjoyed their letters and occasional e-mail, the past year had grown very long and tedious waiting until a visit could be arranged. The construction of Fraser’s new home provided Fraser with a welcome opportunity. Upon hearing that Fraser planned to build it himself, Ray immediately offered to come up and help.

Although the adventure had used up all of Ray’s accumulated leave, Ray had steadily earned two days a month for another vacation over the past year of work. With Lieutenant Welsh’s approval, Ray had taken three weeks to come to Canada and help Fraser.

Thankfully, Labor Day did not count against Ray, nor did the weekends, so Ray needed to use only fourteen of his accumulated twenty-four days.

Fraser could only hope some of the remaining ten would also be used to visit Canada.

The waiting crowd began to shift: the first few passengers were entering the airport. To a man, their faces were ashy, gray and drawn. Ah. A difficult trip, then. That was unfortunate. As Fraser had cause to remember, Ray was not a particularly good flyer under the best of circumstances. The fact that Fraser had had to practically push a parachute-less Ray out of the last plane they’d been on together probably had not escaped Ray’s memory either.

Fraser bit his lip. Anxiety made his stomach churn. Where was he?

Finally, Ray appeared. His face was as haggard as any of the faces that had preceded him. His eyes appeared glassy. Oh dear, thought Fraser as he hurried forward.

“Ray!”

Ray turned to meet him. “Fraser! Thank God.” Stumbling forward on wobbly legs he clutched at Fraser’s shoulders. “Fraser. Get me off this plane. You’ve got to get me on the ground, buddy.”

“You’re on the ground, Ray.” Despite Ray’s condition, Fraser couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “It’s all right. Really.”

Ray looked around at the jetway behind him. “Yeah, okay, but we’re too close. Get me out of here. That plane could attack at anytime, I’m telling you.” He slid one arm around Fraser’s shoulder and leaned on him heavily.

“I seriously doubt that Ray.” Fraser was conscious of an unfamiliar emotion flooding through him. It made him wrap his arm around Ray’s waist to steer him away from the gate. “But as you say, we’ll be on our way immediately. Do you have any bags?”

“Yeah, if they got this far,” Ray muttered fatalistically.

“Very well, baggage claim is this way. Is this yours?” Fraser pointed at the knapsack at Ray’s feet. At Ray’s nod, he slung it up onto his free shoulder and escorted his partner away from the sky and back to solid ground. “Was it a difficult trip, then?” he ventured as they made their way down the concourse.

Ray turned and attempted to look Fraser in the eye. He appeared to be having some difficulty focusing. “Oh, yeah. We hit some...what do you call it...turbulence as soon as we took off. We never got past it. It was like driving for two hours on a road with speed bumps. Bang, bang, bang!” He faced forward again. “They ran out of barf bags.”

“I’m extremely sorry to hear that.”

“So were the flight attendants.”

They passed a restroom. “Do you need to...” Fraser tilted his head meaningfully toward the men’s room.

“What?” Ray just looked at him then moved enough to see what Fraser might be referring to. “Oh. No, I’m good.”

“It’s a long drive...”Fraser hinted.

“No, Dad, I don’t hafta go potty. Geez, Fraser.” Ray went to slide his arm off Fraser’s shoulder, but Fraser refused to let go of his hold on Ray’s waist and simply turned them back down the concourse toward baggage claim and started walking again. Ray hesitated a moment, but then put his arm back.

By baggage claim, Ray was leaning heavily on Fraser and his feet were dragging.

Fraser deposited Ray into a seat and squatted in front of him, “Are you all right?”

“I’m just peachy, Fraser. I think it’s just the Dramamine kicking in...”

“When did you take it?”

Ray glanced at his watch. “About thirty minutes ago.” He kept his eyes on Fraser’s, though his face reddened. “I didn’t know how close we were...” His voice trailed off.

“Well, then. That’s probably it.” Fraser patted Ray’s leg reassuringly then turned to the baggage carousels. “If you’ll give me your claim tickets, I’ll retrieve your luggage.” Ray fished out his ticket from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it over.

Fraser straightened and went over to the proper carousel, conscious of a definite sense of disappointment. He’d so looked forward to Ray’s arrival, an event that they had been planning for several months, but now it appeared that the actual reunion would have to wait while the sedative worked its way through Ray’s system.

He spotted what he believed was Ray’s bag and snagged the handle for closer inspection. The numbers on the tickets matched, so he swung the bag off the carousel and continued looking for the other. Spotting it, he confirmed the number, and pulled it off. Picking up both bags, he rejoined Ray who was already dozing. “Ready to go?” He was proud that his voice sounded perfectly normal.

“Uh, yeah.” Ray started up, clearly already half-asleep. “Thanks, Fraser.”

“You’re welcome, Ray.”

Four hours later, Fraser put the Jeep in park and turned off the engine. Ray had spent most of the drive from Yellowknife pressed uncomfortably against the passenger side window glass, sound asleep. Even the Jeep’s jouncing passage across the uneven terrain that passed for a front yard here in St. Christophe failed to rouse him.

Despite the fact that he was tired and somewhat stiff from the long drive, Fraser did not get out right away. Instead he sat--embarrassingly still and intent—and stared at Ray who slept on, unaware.

Ray’s hands were lax in his lap, a pose Fraser was not familiar with. He remembered better how they’d often appeared to be in perpetual motion, expressing Ray’s moods as clearly as his face.

Ray’s face, too, was relaxed. He’d shaved recently, closer than Fraser could ever remember seeing him shave before. Ray normally seemed to carry an oddly consistent amount of stubble, but today his cheeks were clean-shaven. This had the effect of making Ray’s mouth, his lips, seem somehow more prominent. When had he found time to shave? Fraser wondered as his eyes lingered and his tongue wet his own suddenly dry lips. In sleep, Ray’s lips were full and slightly pursed, as if he was waiting for a kiss from a passing princess.

Ray shifted then and mumbled, seeming to awaken. “We’re here!” Fraser said heartily and leaped out of the Jeep. He started toward the house and then spun around again abruptly, remembering Ray’s bags. He retrieved them from the back and carried them across the yard and up the steps with considerable dispatch.

He put the bags down, turned to say something of welcome to Ray and only then realized that Ray wasn’t with him on the front step of the house. He stopped searching for his keys and turned to stare back at the Jeep. Yes, there was Ray--slumped back against the window glass, eyes closed again, mouth open this time...

Fraser shook himself and turned back to the door. He opened it, set Ray’s bags inside and left it open, then went back to the car. Carefully, he eased the passenger door open, sliding his left arm in to grab hold of Ray in order to prevent him from falling onto the gravel below. He swung the door open all the way, then used his other arm to push Ray more firmly into the seat.

“Ray,” he said insistently.

No response, save a mumble.

“Ray.” Fraser said it a little more firmly.

This time Ray turned his head restlessly.

“Ray!”

“What? Fraser!” Ray’s voice was wide awake and irritated.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.” Fraser clapped his hands together and stood briskly. “Up you go, then.”

Ray groaned and let his head drop back against the seat. Under Fraser’s very eyes, he fell asleep again. Fraser sighed and leaned in again.

“Ray,” he said.

Ray didn’t even mumble.

Fraser dropped his head to his hand. Well, Ray couldn’t sleep out here all night. He leaned across Ray’s lap to unbuckle his seat belt. A puff of air, like a silent laugh, caressed his cheekbone and he turned his head in shock. Ray’s eyes fluttered and a smile ghosted across his lips. “Hey...” Ray’s voice was breathy, filled with a warmth that was decidedly tangible on his face. “You’re pretty friendly....”

Fraser froze. Stretched half across Ray, his fingers suddenly went numb on the seat belt release button. “Well...we’re friends, Ray. I should think I’d be...friendly.” He tried to make his voice hearty and matter-of-fact, but succeeded in making it only slightly louder than a whisper.

“Mmmmm...yeah...” Ray’s voice trailed off and his hands moved restlessly again, the right one landing on Fraser somewhere in the vicinity of his left hip. “...missed you...”

Shock rang in Fraser’s ears. He stared at Ray. Searched and found a scrap of voice. “I ...missed you, too.”

No response. Ray was asleep again.

Fraser laughed shortly at his own arrogance and set about the task of releasing Ray from his seatbelt with grim determination. Ray seemed to be totally asleep now and didn’t even murmur when Fraser pushed a shoulder into Ray’s stomach, draped his upper body over his back and eased them both out of the car. With gritted teeth, Fraser carried Ray to the front door, over the threshold and deposited him, none too gently he noted guiltily when Ray’s head and shoulders bounced up again, on the cabin’s only bed. Then, before he could forget, he went back out to the car, closed the doors and returned inside.

Ray slept on. Fraser rolled his eyes, made a mental note to remind Ray to consider his sedative dosage somewhat more carefully on the return trip to Chicago, and took off his jacket. Moving quietly, he got out the ingredients he’d left in the refrigerator and made beef stew. It could safely simmer on the stove until Ray woke.

The time while Ray slept refused to pass quickly. With Dief away for the time being, Fraser had fewer chores to attend to. He supposed he could take a long walk by himself, but he was strangely reluctant to leave Ray sleeping, afraid that if he did So Ray might awaken to an empty house and that felt far too inhospitable to consider.

So he made stew. He tidied the already-neat cabin. He put Ray’s suitcases on their flat sides, as if the clothes inside had some hope of being unwrinkled. He...stood by the window and made weather predictions. He stood by the bed and wondered idly if he should attempt to get Ray under the covers. He cursed himself for being a fool, yanked a random journal of his father’s off the shelf and threw himself down into the wing chair and attempted to discipline his obviously unruly mind.

The time passed with greater speed then and the smell of stew that began to permeate the cabin was curiously soothing, as well. Fraser felt himself begin to relax. All told, it was only two hours until Ray began to stir sufficiently enough that Fraser determined he could safely start the biscuits to go with the stew. He closed the book, and went to the kitchen.

While he mixed the flour and shortening and water, Ray began to mumble in his sleep. Fraser smiled down at his floury hands kneading the dough, remembering the restless and often verbal manner of Ray’s sleep on the adventure. Finishing the kneading (it really didn’t do to overwork the dough), he washed his hands and sprinkled flour on the counter. He rolled the dough out to a satisfactory thickness, and used a water glass to cut out the biscuits. Once he had a tray full, he put them in the oven to bake.

Remembering how much Ray enjoyed coffee with his wallowing, Fraser started a fresh pot.

“Hey, is that your famous Fraser Stew?” Ray’s voice was sleep-roughened and totally unexpected. Only the exertion of extreme control kept Fraser from jumping at the sound of it.

“Yes, Ray. I’m pleased you remember.” Fraser turned around from the coffee maker and smiled happily.

“How could I forget it? First time I ate caribou.” Ray smiled back. His face was puffy with sleep and his eyes were squinty as he attempted to adjust them to the bright light of the kitchen. His hair was even more experimental than ever. He’d crossed his arms over his chest and dug his hands into his armpits in search of more warmth.

He was the most beautiful sight Fraser had seen in over a year and he was unable to keep his smile from becoming wide enough to be considered foolish. Luckily, Ray didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his own smile grew a trifle smug. Fraser attempted to keep up his end of the conversation.

“Tonight’s version simply has beef. I hope that’s all right.”

“Sounds good to me. Do I smell coffee?” Ray craned his neck to look around Fraser.

“Why, yes, you do, Ray. It should be done shortly.”

“Greatness.” Ray came further into the kitchen and leaned on the counter perpendicular to the sink. “So where’s Dief?”

“Well, it would seem he has some value in these parts as...stud dog, Ray.” Ridiculously, Fraser felt himself blush. “He is currently, staying with a family in Blue Mountain and attempting to...that is to say, he is going to...well, anyway, the idea is that he will....”

“Knock up their bitch, Fraser?”

“Yes, Ray. That’s the idea.”

“Well, what do you know? Dief’s gone a’courtin’”

“So to speak. It’s rather odd though.” Fraser scratched his eyebrow and tugged his ear. “It would appear that...he’s not as enthusiastic as one might think. Most of these things take place very quickly, but Dief....well, the fact of the matter is, Ray, he’s delaying. And if he delays much longer, he might miss the opportunity all together.”

“Slow out of the starting gate, huh?” Ray looked to be suppressing laughter.

“It would appear So” Fraser said shortly.

“Oh, well,” Ray waved his hand eloquently and moved to pour himself a cup of coffee. “These things usually take care of themselves. Maybe he felt like he wanted to let her get used to him, make the whole act more special or something.”

Fraser stared. Was Ray suggesting...? “Ray, are you calling Dief a romantic?”

“Sure, Fraser. Why not?”

“Well, it hardly seems plausible. He is, after all, a wild animal. “Well,” Fraser hesitated, wondering if that designation was strictly true any longer. “He used to be, at any rate.” He went to check the biscuits.

“See, that’s what I’m saying. Some of the city might have rubbed off on him, he was there a while, you know. He might think he needs to wine her and dine her a little before jumping right on and doing the nasty.” The accompanying hip action to this comment made Fraser both hot and bothered.

“You’re not convincing me.”

Ray seemed to take that dismissal in stride and merely grinned at him over the top of his coffee cup. “Well, then, there’s always Viagra.” He waggled his eyebrows outrageously. Fraser caught by shock and mirth equally, simply stood by the oven door holding a pan of biscuits dumbly until the heat from the pan began to seep through his hot pad. Moving quickly, he extracted the biscuits and set the pan on the two unused burners on the stove to cool.

“Ray!” he spluttered.

“What?” Ray grinned back, inviting him to share the joke, inviting him back into the easy camaraderie of their relationship, inviting him to share in the simple joy of having a friend.

“It’s good to have you here.” And Fraser started to laugh.

During dinner, Fraser got the reunion he’d wanted at the airport. Ray was full of new information about the Lieutenant, Francesca, and Detectives Huey and Dewey. He and Ray had corresponded in the year they’d been apart, but it hadn’t been the same as seeing Ray’s face and hearing his voice as he expressed himself.

“How many children does Francesca have now?” Fraser asked as he cleared the supper dishes.

“Two.” Ray looked up from the kitchen counter where he was fixing his coffee. “And one on the way.”

“That seems rather...”

“Speedy?” Ray’s eyes danced with mischief over the top of his coffee cup making Fraser’s breath catch in his throat and his fingers tighten unnecessarily on the plates. “Well, that’s Frannie. Where there’s a will...”

“...she will find the way,” Fraser finished.

“Never found her way to you, though.” Now Ray looked speculative, and Fraser found himself motivated into motion again, going to the sink and setting the dishes down.

“No, it would appear not.” Fraser started washing and stacking the dishes; Ray moved beside him and started to dry.

“Why was that, Fraser?”

Fraser froze, his hands stilling on the flatware. A direct question. He glanced over at Ray intending only to determine how he could evade actually answering it, but found Ray regarding him steadily, unblinkingly and with some determination.

“Why didn’t you ever take Frannie up on her offer, Fraser?” Ray asked again. His hands still worked the towel over the plate he was holding, but his eyes were boring into Fraser’s. “Did you think she was ugly?”

“No! Ray!” Fraser felt his ire rise. “I happen to find Francesca very attractive.”

“So she was annoying?”

“No. Ray. It’s not ...appropriate to speak of a lady in this fashion.” Fraser was floundering and he knew it.

“Fraser.” Ray put the plate down and put his hands on the counter. “I am not just anybody. We were partners. We went on an arctic adventure. We’re friends. We’re buddies. You can tell me why you didn’t go for Francesca.” He picked another plate up and started to dry that one. “It’s not like I’m going to run off and tell Huey and Dewey. Or Welsh. Or Vecchio. Friends talk to each other. That’s what they do.” He was quiet for a few seconds and Fraser tried to marshal his whirling thoughts. “Unless,” and Ray looked up to meet Fraser’s eyes and his hands stilled, “Unless you think we’re not such good friends.”

The moment stretched out between them.

Horror-stricken, Fraser managed to dredge up a voice from somewhere inside his numb throat. “Ray. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. God.” Thin and reedy and totally unlike his normal timbre, the voice he found was nevertheless enough. Ray smiled and resumed drying.

“Good. Greatness. You, too. Now what about Francesca?”

Beaten down to the bare essence of himself, Fraser answered honestly and without pretense. “I just never...desired her, Ray. She wasn’t what I wanted...what I...needed.”

“Yeah, that’s the trick, isn’t it? First, figuring out what you want and what you need, and then finding someone who is all that.” Ray slanted a grin at him and everything went back to normal.

Normal normal, as Ray would undoubtedly say and he would be right, Fraser thought as they finished cleaning the kitchen in a comfortable silence. Normal people did talk to each other, did share thoughts and feelings, didn’t sit together in silence giving nothing of themselves away. That, as Ray would say again, wouldn’t be buddies, wouldn’t be friends, wouldn’t be a relationship at all. And he did have a relationship with Ray, a relationship he treasured and Ray was right to make Fraser acknowledge it.

“Ray,” he started needing Ray’s attention before he continued.

“What?” Ray said looking up from tying the garbage bag.

“Thank you.” Fraser tried to put his feelings into his voice. Maybe that’s why it shook ever so slightly.

“Anytime,” Ray said automatically, but straightened up to ask, “For what?”

“For being my friend, despite the fact that I don’t always make it easy.”

“Oh, that.” Ray ducked his head again and picked up the tied trash bag. “Well, I happen to think you’re worth it.” A brief second of that blinding smile, a wink and then Ray was out the door to the trash bin.

Sleeping arrangements turned out to be problematic. Fraser had intended to give Ray the bed and use his bedroll, but apparently Ray had other plans.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor for an entire month, Fraser.”

“Honestly, Ray, I don’t mind a bit and I think you’ll find the bed very comfortable.” Fraser answered back and rolled out his bedroll with a brisk snap of his wrists. He did take the liberty of snagging the extra pillow from the bed and threw it down, as well.

Ray watched him with an expression on his face that for some reason made Fraser nervous.

“Ah. Well, then. Let me just....” Fraser looked around for something else to do. His eyes fell on the dresser. “...get ready for bed then. If you’ll excuse me.” He rummaged quickly in the dresser and then went into the bathroom, an act which felt far more like an escape than it should have.

When he emerged, the cabin was dark. He stood still for a moment, letting his eyes adjust and dithering about the bathroom light. Should he leave it on for Ray? It was entirely possible, however, that Ray was asleep already given his penchant for drug-induced slumber this evening. “Ray?” he tried, his voice little more than a whisper.

There was no answer.

Very well, then. Fraser snapped off the light and picked his way carefully across the wood floor until his toes touched the edge of his bedroll. Squatting, he picked up the top edge of the bedroll. Ray’s breathing in the bed above him seemed very loud. He hoped Ray wasn’t getting congested.

With the ease of long practice he flipped the top of the bedroll open and slid his legs in but then found his way blocked by six feet or so of warm, rangy, Chicago detective.

“Ray!”

“Fraser! Geez, friendly, aren’t you?”

“Ray!” Fraser said again, too rattled to say anything else. Evidently, Ray had gotten in the bedroll while Fraser was otherwise occupied. Of all the passive aggressive moves...Fraser felt a reluctant admiration. “You’re supposed to be sleeping in the bed.”

“I’m not turning you out of your bed, Fraser and that’s final.” Ray’s voice was flat and that coupled with his presence in Fraser’s bedroll on the hard wood floor convinced Fraser that Ray might be serious in his objection.

“All right. We’ll reconsider.” Fraser attempted to roll on his back to think, but was hampered by the bedroll now tangled around his legs. He tried to pull his right leg up but succeeded only in kneeing Ray in the buttocks.

“Fraser!”

“I apologize, Ray, I’m just trying to get out.” He tried the left leg this time, but was no more successful. He apologized again after removing his knee from Ray’s lower back.

“Fraser.” Ray’s voiced was pained. “Do you think you can manage to stay still for just a few minutes so I can get my breath back? I mean, I know you’re not the touchy-feely one here, but it’s not like I have a disease.”

Fraser ceased his struggles, worried now. “Ray, I didn’t mean to imply that I find your proximity...distasteful.”

“Well, that’s something anyway.” Ray’s voice was amused and resigned. “That you don’t find me distasteful.”

Was Ray kidding? Fraser couldn’t read his tone, didn’t know quite how to respond. “Ray, you must know how much I enjoy your company.”

“Just not in a sleeping bag with you, huh?” Ray’s voice was still amused.

“You must admit it is rather close quarters,” Fraser started.

“We’ve done it before, on the quest.” Ray’s head turned and Fraser could see the glint of his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Did you mind it then?”

“Not at all,” Fraser answered honestly. And now he could see the shine of Ray’s teeth.

“So you wouldn’t mind sharing with me while I’m here?”

“If that’s what you want,” Fraser answered truthfully, but confused as to why Ray might want to share a sleeping bag with him for his entire visit.

“Good. Pitter patter, then, Fraser.” And with that Ray slid lithely out of the bag and stood up by the bed, holding the pillow. He turned back and extended a hand to Fraser. “Need a hand there, buddy?”

“Ray?” Really, Fraser was starting to feel somewhat pole axed. “Now what?”

“Up, Fraser. We can share the bed as easily as the sleeping bag and it’ll be a whole lot more comfortable. Which side do you like?”

“Usually I sleep in the middle, Ray,” Fraser said pointedly in an effort to remind Ray of whose bed it was and who exactly was being manipulated here.

“See? You really are friendly.” He was sure if he could see Ray, he’d see an outrageous wink accompany that statement as Ray slid into the bed and moved to the far side.

Fraser felt his mouth open to say he knew not what, but shut it again and bowed to the inevitable force of change that was Ray Kowalski. He got into the bed, leaving the crumpled bedroll behind him but remembering to pick up the pillow.

Next to him, Ray sighed and snuggled down into the other pillow, his now, contentedly. “Night, Fraser.”

“Good night, Ray.” Fraser heard the affection he had for Ray in his voice. He wondered if Ray heard it, too.

MONDAY

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Fraser woke first and while it was something of a shock to see Ray’s tousled head on the pillow next to him, he couldn’t deny that he had slept extremely well despite being unaccustomed to another person’s presence in his bed. He rolled on his back and scratched at his chin, wondering if he would have slept so well if he had shared his bed with say, Inspector Thatcher. He thought not. First, he had no doubt that she would have demanded more than her share of blankets. And second, he rather felt that her own nervousness at such a situation occurring would have made her twitchy and restless and an altogether poor sleeping companion.

Ray’s casualness, on the other hand, thought Fraser, turning to look at the other man in his bed, was extremely restful. Apparently, it concerned Ray not a whit to share a bed with another man. Well, he corrected himself, apparently it concerned Ray not a whit to share a bed with him. To be accurate, he had no idea if Ray’s had ever shared his bed with any other man.

In fact, he had no idea if Ray had shared a bed with anyone, other than Stella, of course. Suddenly, he found himself wondering about Ray’s other bed partners, wondering with whom Ray had slept and what he had gotten up to with them while sharing a bed...

Fraser flung back his covers and made his way to the bathroom. It was past time to start the day.

After breakfast, he took Ray downtown. “The Grand Tour” Ray had called it, over his pancakes that morning. They parked in front of the detachment and got out.

“If you don’t mind, Ray, I need to run to the post office for a moment.” Fraser indicated the official building with the Canadian flag flying across the street.

“No problem, Fraser.” Together they crossed the street and entered the building. Ray looked around at the people standing quietly in line and shook his head.

“What?”

“Canadians. Are you all so polite?”

“Of course, Ray. Is there any other way to be?” Fraser looked through his bills, making sure each one had the appropriate return address, and worked on controlling his smile.

“Clueless Mountie,” Ray said, nudging his shoulder. “Almost forgot that schtick.”

“Schtick?” Fraser carried on. “Really, Ray, I have no idea--”

“See? There he is again!” Ray pointed at him with two fingers in his characteristic fashion.

“Constable Fraser?” The woman in front of them turned around. Her voice sounded somewhat surprised.

“Why, hello, NatalieJean! It’s good to see you this morning.” Fraser greeted her, realizing he’d been so caught up in Ray and his own mail that he’d failed to even notice who else was standing in line.

“You, too,” NatalieJean replied warmly. “I thought you were on vacation?” Her voice rose at the end of the sentence, making it a question.

“Yes, I am. My partner from my days in Chicago is up visiting for a while and has graciously consented to help me build my home during this time. Ray Kowalski,” Fraser turned back to Ray and gestured him closer. “This is NatalieJean Wilkins. She runs the children’s reading room at the library next door and is also a very fine waitress. NatalieJean, this is my partner, Ray.”

Ray put out his hand for NatalieJean to shake and smiled politely at her.

“Hi, NatalieJean.”

“Hello, Mr. Kowalski. It’s nice of you to come all this way to help out Constable Fraser.”

Fraser watched Ray shift his feet uncomfortably. “Uh, just ‘Ray’ is fine, thanks. And yeah, I’m happy to help out a...friend.” Ray’s eyes met Fraser’s for a brief moment and, unless it was a trick of the light, Fraser thought that Ray’s cheeks reddened slightly.

“You must be a fine friend, indeed. Constable Fraser is very lucky.” NatalieJean glanced sideways at him as she said it, apparently inviting him to comment.

“Indeed. I am very lucky. It is good of him to come.” Now Ray’s face was definitely pink. “But friendship is very important to Ray. For instance, within hours of meeting me, he stepped in front of me to protect me from a madwoman with a gun.”

“I was wearing a vest, Fraser.”

“And I’m very glad she wasn’t aiming at your head, Ray.”

“It would have been your head she was aiming at, not an unlikely reaction to close contact with you by the criminal element, by the way, and it’s likely that she would have missed me anyway.”

“Likely.” Fraser let his tone of voice communicate what he thought about that. “Well,” he went on after a brief pause, turning now towards NatalieJean who had been following their conversation raptly “it’s a good thing that she did in fact hit the vest and not you no matter what she was aiming at initially.”

“Yeah, well, that goes without saying.”

“But, Ray, I just said it.”

“Yeah, I know, Fraser, but it coulda gone without-”

“NatalieJean, I believe it’s your turn.” Fraser interrupted Ray without compunction and gestured to the waiting tellers. “It was very nice to see you, have a nice day.”

NatalieJean closed her mouth and made her way up to the counter, stooping once to pick up the mail she dropped.

“Nice girl,” Ray said as they waited at the end of the nylon guides.

“Yes. Very nice. I knew her slightly when I was growing up, and it was a happy coincidence to encounter her here again years later.”

“You knew her growing up?” Ray was looking at him with a peculiar expression.

“Yes, she grew up in a town that was along my grandparents’ route as traveling librarians,” Fraser replied, wondering at Ray’s expression.

“Oh. Okay. Think it’s our turn.”

“So it is.”

They moved up to the counter and Fraser mailed his bills and purchased some new stamps.

Outside again, Fraser turned to Ray. “So Ray, what would you like to see?”

“We’re on your turf now, Fraser, lead the way.”

“Very well.” Fraser cocked his head and considered briefly. “I believe we will continue down Prancer Street just a bit and visit my office first.” They set off. “Did you find you were missing anything this morning? There’s a grocery store just down the block or an Odd and Ends store just around the corner.”

“No, Fraser. I think I’m good. Found my toothbrush, managed some clean clothes. I’m good to go.”

“Very well, then.” He led the way up the steps of the building and held the door, gesturing Ray ahead of him.

The interior of the detachment with its warm wooden floor and molding soothed him as it always did. He walked with Ray through the foyer and nodding his head politely at Carol, the receptionist. “Good morning, Carol.”

She looked up from her computer screen almost comically startled. “Why, hello, Constable Fraser! I thought we wouldn’t be seeing you for a while!” A small flush stained her cheeks.

Fraser paused for a moment by her desk to introduce Ray. “Carol, this is my friend, Ray, my partner when I worked in Chicago. I’m just showing him around town.”

“Oh!” Carol’s flush seemed to deepen upon gazing at Ray who held out his hand. She grasped it in both of hers. “Ray Kowalski! I recognize you now, of course, from the picture!”

“Uh, yeah, “ Ray answered uneasily, trying unsuccessfully to pull his hand back.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” gushed Carol. “I’m so glad to meet you! We all just think the world of Constable Fraser here and it’s so nice to meet a friend of his. And especially the one who helped him save the world from those horrible terrorists!”

“Uh, yeah, well it’s nice to meet you too.” Ray pulled at his hand again and looked to Fraser for help.

“Yes, well, I’m just going to show Ray my office Carol and then we’ll be on our way.” Under the pretense of patting her hand, Fraser pried her fingers off of Ray’s hand and they made their escape.

“Wow. They all that enthusiastic around here, Fraser?” Ray grinned at him as they moved shoulder-to-shoulder through the detachment hallways.

“In what way, Ray?”

“Benton Fraser Evasion #3, ask for specific clarification in order to avoid answering the question.”

“Ah, here we are!” Fraser pushed open the door to his office and just smiled.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be Benton Fraser Evasion #4, make comments about the immediate vicinity. Hey, this is nice!” Ray walked in and stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips.

It was nice. Fraser did like his office. The floor was the same hardwood as the Outpost foyer and the desk was of a complementary wood. The shelves behind his desk held only a few items, and the fireplace was a charming addition.

“This where Dief sleeps?” Ray asked pointing at the braided rug in front of the fire.

“Yes.” Fraser felt a pang. It didn’t feel quite right to be here without Dief. Ah, well, soon he’d get his act together and be back where he belonged.

Now Ray was making a big show of looking in all the corners, peering into the closet. “Now what?” Fraser asked, laughing.

“Where do you keep the cot?”

Fraser laughed out loud and rubbed his eyebrow. “Well, believe it or not, Ray, this particular detachment actually encourages us to go home at night. However, Dief has been known to share his rug on occasion.

“Well, it doesn’t quite seem like your office without a Military Issue Sleeping Device.” Now Ray was behind his desk looking at the items on the shelf. He picked up Fraser’s family portrait and looked at it for a few seconds in silence. “Huh. Little Fraser.”

Fraser answered from where he was leaning against the doorframe.

“Yes.”

“Long time ago.”

“Yes.”

Then, Ray picked up the other picture. Fraser studied his hiking boots. There was a silence. He heard Ray draw in a breath. “Hey,” he said in a soft voice. “I remember this. This was that last day at the airport. We got that pilot to take our picture...” His voice trailed off, as if he was remembering. His fingers traced over the picture again and he set it back on the shelf carefully. “Nice office, Fraser. I really like it.” Ray’s voice was warm.

“Thank you, Ray. I’m glad you do.”

As they were leaving the building, after waving at Carol, Fraser asked, “What were #1 and #2?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Fraser. They both involve someone shooting at us.”

“Ah. Understood.”

A comfortable silence fell, and Ray followed without comment as Fraser turned left outside the Detachment and started up Cupid Street. “What would you like to see, Ray?”

“Oh, just whatever, Fraser. I’m trying to get a feel for the place.”

“Right you are, Ray.” Fraser stopped on the corner and gestured to the building that stood on the opposite corner of the intersection. “Well, here on the right, you’ll notice the court house--”

“You spend a lot of time there?” Ray interrupted Fraser’s attempted recital of the pertinent facts of the history of jurisprudence here in St. Christophe.

“Well, a certain amount, from time to time, if my presence is requested.”

“Yeah, I hate dressing up for court. Bet they love you though.” Ray grinned at him and Fraser groped for a reply. He was unable to find one before Ray went on, “What’s over here?”

He was pointing to the arena that stood directly across the street.

“Ah, yes, that would be the skating rink.”

“Cool. I haven’t skated in years.”

“You know how?” Fraser asked with the customary skepticism of a Canadian birthed on skates.

“Yeah, skeptic, I know how to skate. Even played hockey for a while.” Ray swung around to face him, eyes narrowing challengingly.

“I’m sure you did.” Fraser backed off and held his hands up placatingly.

“I did, Fraser.” Ray’s tone said he suspected that Fraser was patronizing him.

“As you say. Perhaps we should go one evening?” Fraser attempted to make amends.

Ray’s face cleared and he smiled again. “Cool. That’ll be fun.”

“Let’s go across then and check for the open skate times.”

“You got it, Fraser.” Ray still smiled, but now his expression held a touch of puzzlement. But what Ray would be puzzled about, Fraser could not fathom.

After picking up the brochure that listed the times the facility was open to the public and introducing Ray to Dave, the owner, they continued down Dancer Avenue. “What’s up there?” Ray asked at the next cross street flapping his arm to the right.

“Just about a block or two down is a community theater, Ray. I believe they are staging a production of “Hamlet” just now. They did a nice production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream this summer, I’m told.”

“Hamlet, wow. Shakespeare in the sticks. You been?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Why not? Kind thought that’d be right up your alley.”

“I just haven’t...taken the opportunity, I guess.” Fraser shifted his feet uncomfortably, although there was no rational reason for his discomfort. “There’s a very nice restaurant next to the theater that serves a variety of fine food, I’ve heard.”

“Cool. That your only nice restaurant?”

“No, actually, there’s a pizza and calzone place next to the cinema on Dasher, that is also very good, and the Club on Blitzen serves some very tasty appetizers, I’m told.”

Ray had gone alarmingly still. “Wait...” he said and then stopped altogether.

“Ray? What? What is it?” Fraser put his hand on Ray’s arm in concern.

“Tell me I’m just imagining it.”

“What? Do you see something?” Instinctively, Fraser looked for his father.

“Wait, let me think....Prancer, Dasher, Blitzen...What’s the name of this road, Fraser?” He pointed at the street next to them. A pickup truck rattled by.

Ah. Fraser felt his face get somewhat red, a ridiculous reaction, it wasn’t as if he’d had anything to do with the street names in his new town. “This is Dancer Drive, Ray.”

Ray lost it. He chortled, he wheezed, his face turned red. “You mean to tell me....” He gasped, laughed again, found his breath again and went on, “that the streets in this town...” He was lost again, laughing.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Fraser grabbed Ray under the arm and dragged him over to a nearby bench, pushed him into it.

“Yes, Ray,” he answered the question Ray couldn’t spit out with some exasperation. “Yes, the streets in this town are named after Santa’s reindeer. Does that answer your question?”

Too far gone now to even attempt words, Ray nodded wildly, tears leaking out of his eyes. Fraser just looked at him. Rolled his eyes and looked away back out at the street. Looked back. Ray now had propped his elbows on his knees but was still laughing weakly. Despite himself, Fraser felt his lips twitch, felt the laughter bubbling up inside him. Ray’s laugh was just so...infectious.

“In fact, as I mentioned at the last borough meeting, they really should go ahead and include the last one,” Fraser heard himself say with some surprise.

“The...the...last one?” Ray wheezed his way, turning his head to look at Fraser directly.

“Yes. Well, there’s Dasher, and Dancer, and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen. We even have Rudolph heading out of town toward my own property. But, as yet, there is no Olive.” Fraser wondered when it was he’d lost his mind and where he’d lost it exactly.

“Olive?” Now Ray looked even more confused.

“Surely, you know, Ray. “Olive? The other reindeer? Who used to laugh and call him names?” Fraser held his face in an expression he knew appeared totally guileless and innocent.

Ray just stared and then burst out laughing again, “Oh, God, Olive, you’re killing me, you’re killing me here!” More laughter, so completely infectious that Fraser, despite his determination to maintain the right, so to speak, felt little riffs of laughter escape him. In fact, it seemed that the more he tried not to laugh, the more he actually did laugh, so he gave up completely and leaned back against Ray and let it all out.

After a suitable time spent on the bench, they resumed the tour.

“St. Christophe was a lumber town, initially, Ray.” Fraser lectured once they got going again. “For some reason, its inhabitants have always been inordinately interested in Christmas. Hence, the naming of the streets, some of the more bizarre rituals...” He paused on the sidewalk in front of St. Christophe’s only club, seeing that Ray was studying the club’s outdoor bulletin board advertising upcoming events. “Anyway, the timber trade continues, but now there’s a healthy amount of tourist trade, as well. Perhaps one day you’ll come visit during Christmas. It’s quite a treat.”

“I’d like that.”

The rest of the morning proceeded in a like manner with only one further incident.

“Constable Fraser! How nice to see you!” Guy Douglas trilled a greeting as Fraser and Ray entered his shop. “Welcome! Welcome! Welcome to Santa’s Workshop.”

To Fraser’s amusement, Ray looked as if someone had hit him with an oversized candy cane not unlike the sixteen or so on display throughout the small storefront. In fact, the store was filled with Christmas paraphernalia. Especially charming, according to many (but not including Fraser) was the life-size stuffed renditions of each of Santa’s reindeer.

“Good morning, Mr. Douglas, I was just showing Ray around town and I knew the tour simply wouldn’t be complete without a stop by your shop.”

“Oh, how nice. I must admit, however, Constable Fraser, from the moment you two stepped into the shop, I was dearly hoping you had brought me another elf.” Ray had been attempting to smile in a friendly fashion, but as the proprietor of the shop eyed him up and down in a frankly assessing manner his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.

Fraser stepped between them quickly, just in case.

“I don’t wear curly toed shoes for anyone, Mister.” Ray pointed emphatically at his feet from behind Fraser’s body.

“Of course not, Ray. Mr. Douglas, I believe we’ll just be on our way then.” Fraser used his body to...encourage...Ray to move back through the doorway. “Have a nice day!” he called back as he shoved Ray through the door.

“Can you believe that guy? Like I’d make a good elf.” Ray moved down the street radiating disgust.

“Actually, I must agree with you, Ray. Your legs are much too long to be considered good elf material,” Fraser answered, unperturbed.

Ray stopped on the sidewalk and stared at Fraser.

Fraser stopped and waited.

“What are you saying here, Fraser? You saying I wouldn’t make a good elf?”

“No, Ray...well, not exactly...I was merely making mention of the fact that you are a trifle...tall...for what is usually considered to be elf-like stature.” Fraser bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Evidently, his earlier bout of hilarity had not completely subsided.

“Cause I could be an elf, Fraser, if I wanted to, I could be the best damn elf this town has ever seen.” Ray seemed disinclined to walk further until this point was made.

“Of course you could, Ray.”

Ray appeared somewhat mollified by this statement and relaxed enough to move a few steps forward. “I could even do the shoes.”

“I’m sure you’d look quite fetching in them, Ray.” Fraser had to wonder if he’d develop mouth ulcers from suppressing the insane desire to collapse on the sidewalk in laughter.

“You think?” Ray began walking for real now, moving confidently up the street. “You really think I’d look good?”

“I’m quite sure, Ray.”

“Good.”

For lunch, Fraser decided to stop at Gepetto’s. Ray approved.

“After this kind of morning, I need sustenance,” Ray declared. “Pizza and calzone sound great.”

“Absolutely,” Fraser agreed and led the way down Dasher.

“So where’s your new place?” Ray asked through his first mouthful of calzone.

“Out on Rudolph, heading out of town.” Fraser wiped his mouth on his napkin and took another large bite.

“Got a lot of land?”

Fraser chewed quickly and swallowed. “About twelve hectares. Not enough to hunt, but enough for a horse, perhaps some sled dogs.” He shrugged went back to his meal.

Ray stopped eating and stared at him. “Fraser. Really? That’s cool!” He leaned back and studied Fraser harder. “You know what that is? That’s settling down. You like it here, in St. Christophe then?”

Fraser didn’t answer right away. In all actuality, he wasn’t exactly sure of his answer. He felt the weight of Ray’s continued stare, but could not form a reply.

“That a hard question?”

“Evidently,” Fraser said finally, trying to be honest, trying not to give into the temptation to merely evade answering. “I suppose I hadn’t quite thought of it that way.”

“Why not? It seems like a nice place to me, but I’ve only been here a day so I’m probably not a good judge.” Ray went back to his meal.

Fraser picked up his water glass and held it thoughtfully running his fingers through the condensation. “No, you’re right, it is nice. And I can breathe here. There’s enough space.”

“Yeah, not like Chicago, all hemmed in. Living in your office there must not have been a big thing for you. You were already claustrophobic, anyway, weren’t you?”

Fraser stopped tracing patterns on the glass and looked at Ray wondering at his understanding and insight. “Yes.”

“So let’s finish up here, and then go look at this spread of yours. I can’t wait to see it.”

On the drive out, Ray brought up their conversation again. “So if it’s not the place making you uneasy, what is it then?”

“I’m sorry?” Fraser asked, not following.

“What is it you haven’t thought about, about living here?”

“Oh. Well to be honest, I think it was the settling in part of what you said. You said, ‘that’s settling down’ and it caught me off guard.”

“Cause you don’t want to settle down?”

“I must want to, I bought the property, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, that’s true. What is it then?”

“I think,” Fraser said as he negotiated the turn into his driveway with some care, “I’m simply not used to thinking of myself as settled.” He stopped the car and looked at Ray. “I never have been, you know.”

“Always the one moving on, I get that.” Ray cocked his head and seemed to consider. “Hmmm...wonder why you feel settled here, then? Come on,” he went on before Fraser could answer, “show me whatcha got.” He patted Fraser’s hand, put on his sunglasses and opened his door to get out.

They skirted the foundation and walked over the cleared area of the property first. Ray seemed particularly taken by the view from the back yard. The land was situated on top of a bluff in such a way that a commanding view could be obtained quite easily. Ray looked out over the vista below them then turned and looked back at the foundation.

“Going to have a ...you know...one of those window sets that goes out like this?” Ray shaped his hands like a trapezoid.

“A bay window?”

“Yeah. One of those. Are you? You should.” Ray turned back around and looked out over the view again, the wind ruffling his hair, pressing his clothes against his body.

Fraser cleared his throat before speaking. “Yes, actually, the eating area in the kitchen will have a bay window. It’s situated on the back wall of the house. Would you like to see the blueprints?”

“Yeah! You got ‘em with you?” Ray swung around and smiled. “I’m trying to imagine what kind of house you’ve got planned.”

They turned and walked back toward the Jeep. Fraser pulled the tube out from the back seat and attempted to unroll the plans on the trunk. The surface proved to be too bumpy.

“Just unroll them on the ground, Fraser. Here.” Ray pointed to a relatively clear area nearby, found some rocks to weight down the corners, then pulled the plans close enough that they could look at them.

Fraser flipped past the front and back elevations, to the floor plan. “See, here,” he tapped the kitchen area, “here’s the bay window in the kitchen.”

“Cool. What else you got?” Ray moved closer, and took off his sunglasses to see better. “Kitchen, the living room, and one --no, two-- bedrooms? And what’s this I see?” Ray’s finger stopped on a small room between the two bedrooms. “INDOOR plumbing? Fraser, is this allowed?” he asked severely.

“Really, Ray. I was thinking of you,” Fraser bantered back.

“Me?” Ray gaped at him. Then he put his hand over his heart and batted his eyelashes like a lovesick moose. “You put in a flush toilet just for me?”

“Well, for you...and Maggie, if she comes to visit...and there’s always the chance that Ray Vecchio and...” Fraser hesitated, but continued, seeing no hope for it “...his wife might come.”

Ray’s grin faded somewhat, and he fumbled his sunglasses back on before looking away. “You can say her name, Fraser.”

“Apparently there’s no need,” Fraser ventured wanting desperately not to cause pain of any kind, fearing he was too late.

“No, it’s okay, really. I’ve made my peace with that.” Ray’s voice was slow but not sad precisely. Resigned, maybe? “They’re expecting a baby, I hear.”

Fraser didn’t know where he got the courage: as Ray said, he wasn’t the touchy-feely type, but his hand reached out (possibly of its own accord) and gently took Ray’s sunglasses off his face. Ray turned to look at him in surprise.

“Are you all right?” Fraser shifted the sunglasses to his other hand and let his fingers trace lightly over the earpieces. He wanted to offer comfort, but felt awkward and somewhat unsure of how to do so.

Ray studied him for a moment, then squinted back at the horizon. “I’m okay. It’s an adjustment, but one thing I figured out this year is that Stella’s not for me, you know? She doesn’t want me, hasn’t wanted me for a while.” He paused and looked down at the ground between his upraised knees. Without thinking about it, Fraser lifted his free hand and placed it on the back of Ray’s neck. Ray lifted his head and briefly let it drop back against Fraser’s fingers in a sort of acknowledgment, and went on. “This year I finally realized she’s not what I want, she’s not what I need either.” Ray turned his head and met Fraser’s eyes intently.

“Do you know what you want? What you need?” Having spent the past year struggling over this very question himself, Fraser was more than casually interested in Ray’s reply.

Ray didn’t move for a moment. Then he gave a full-fledged smile. “I’m getting a pretty good idea. Now I just have to see if I can find it.” Ray reached up and squeezed Fraser’s hand, then let it go and turned back to the blueprints.

“I hope you do.” Fraser pulled his own hand back and looked at the plans for his new house with some disinterest.

“Now what else you got here? A garage? Living big, aren’t you?” Ray grinned back over his shoulder and invited Fraser to play.

Fraser shook himself and did his best. “Honestly, Ray, in this climate a garage is only practical. Would you want to de-ice a vehicle all winter?” he shot back, allowing Ray to set the conversational tone for the time being.

On the drive back home, Fraser was thinking about dinner and whether or not they should just reheat the stew when Ray derailed his train of thought completely with a question.

“Do you think that somewhere there’s a plan like this--” he raised the tube of blueprints he’d been holding on his lap and shook it slightly, “--for our lives?”

Due to the fact that his thoughts refused to be wrenched from dinner preparations to philosophical discussions of the meaning of life so suddenly, the best reply Fraser could manage was, “Pardon?”

“I’m just wondering.” Ray tapped the tube against his leg again and stared out the window. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about.”

Fraser attempted to rally. Ray, after all, was his guest, his friend, his partner. Surely he could come up with some sort of response. He searched and came up with, “No.”

Ray’s head whipped around to stare at him. “No?”

“No, not really,” Fraser clarified.

“You mean you don’t think there is a plan for our lives, some sort of path or...right way of doing things?” Ray’s voice was intense.

“The Inuit believe...”

Ray slashed his hand through the air to cut Fraser off. “Benton Fraser Evasion #5: Bring up the Inuit and tell such a long story your listener eventually sticks forks in his ears and no longer remembers what the hell he asked you in the first place. I don’t care what the Inuit believe. You are not Inuit, Benton Fraser and all I’m interested in is what you believe. Now out with it.”

Fraser was silent for a minute, simply watching the road. “I suppose...I don’t think about it all that often. I’ve never practiced any sort of religion where one would normally go to find that kind of answer. If pressed...” He paused.

“Oh, I’m pressing, Fraser. Believe me.”

“--then I guess I would say, no, I don’t believe that a ready-made, already complete plan that maps out the details of my life in its entirety actually exists. If any sort of plan does exist, then I would have to believe it is being created as I live my life based on the choices I make and the consequences of those choices that I and others close to me may experience.”

“Huh. So it’s all cause and effect for you?”

Ray’s voice was kind and somehow Fraser felt it was even sympathetic. That hint of sympathy got his back up. “Essentially. Therein lies the logic.” Cool precise tone.

“Where’s the comfort in that?” Exasperated tone.

Fraser was unable to reply. Luckily they were approaching the outskirts of town and the traffic had picked up slightly. He concentrated on that for a moment, but felt Ray’s eyes on him unceasingly. In exasperation he finally answered, “I don’t understand what comfort has to do with it. It’s just the way things are.”

“Comfort has everything to do with it. Religion itself is just an organized set of rules people made up to keep from being scared of the dark. And I was raised Catholic, so I know these things, Fraser. And one thing I know is this: comfort is what you tell yourself when you wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and wondering what the hell you did wrong and what’s going to happen now, scared to death that there’s nothing really there at all except you and your mistakes and no one’s going to love you ever. And I can’t imagine what you tell yourself, Fraser, cause I know, I know you’ve had some sleepless nights and by God, I wish you had something better to tell yourself than ‘it’s my own damn fault.’”

For the life of him, Fraser could not formulate a reply nor could he bring himself to return Ray’s steady gaze. He stared out the front window with great intensity and concentrated solely on driving. At one moment, he thought he heard Ray take in a breath to say something, but Fraser shook his head without looking at him and Ray subsiding, staring out the side window.

Soon, all Fraser could hear was the hum of the engine. The yellow line on the highway was all that was necessary for him to see. Nevertheless, he still had to brake harder than he would have liked to keep himself from passing his own driveway.

Once parked, he got out of the car with alacrity and let himself in the house, leaving Ray to his own devices. He went straight to the kitchen. It was late. They’d had a busy day. Surely Ray was as hungry as he was. Somewhat mechanically he went about transferring the stew from the Tupperware container it had been stored in to a pot on the stove.

“Fraser.”

Ah. Fraser stopped moving but did not turn from the stove. Ray had come in. He made himself keep working, scraping the Tupperware bowl to get the last bits of congealed gravy and vegetables. “Dinner will be ready shortly, Ray. Perhaps you might like to take a shower first?” His voice was matter of fact. He hoped.

“No.” Ray’s voice was directly behind him now. Fraser could feel Ray’s presence all along his back but still didn’t turn around, although he knew that he wasn’t being precisely courteous. “There’s something I need to do first.”

“I...see.” In truth, Fraser didn’t see and all he really wanted was for Ray to leave the kitchen and go elsewhere, but Ray didn’t move away. Instead he moved up closer until he was standing next to Fraser, so close their arms were brushing, and their hands were touching where they both rested on the oven door handle.

“You know, you can always tell me to back off. Sometimes, maybe, I need to back off.” Ray’s voice was tentative.

Fraser bit his lip and shook his head not wanting Ray to apologize, not even wanting to talk about it.

“But...” Fraser heard Ray take a deep breath and let it out in a gusty sigh. “There’s a part of me that...wants to take care of you, Fraser.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Fraser saw Ray shake his head now and look down. Fraser risked turning his head slightly to see Ray more clearly and was caught when Ray tilted his own slightly and looked back at him.

“Kind of crazy, I know, what with you always looking out for me and everyone else you know.”

A brief, somewhat rueful smile chased its way across Ray’s face, but then his eyes became serious.

“But, there it is, it’s true, and I can’t help thinking you don’t have enough...forgiveness or something in your life. Makes me mad.” He grinned a little ruefully again, and shrugged, and then, as if just hearing what it was he’d said, quickly added. “For you, not at you.”

Fraser didn’t know what to say. He could not remember the last time anyone had voiced such a concern for or about him. “Thank you,” he said somewhat hoarsely. He cleared his throat and looked back at the stove. “Thank you for...caring, then.”

“I do, you know.”

Ray had turned forward again too. Fraser had a brief, somewhat hysterical thought that they must look rather foolish, two men standing in front of a stove staring at a pot of beef stew. But then Ray’s little finger traced a gentle line on Fraser’s and all coherent thought fled out the window.

“Care about you, you know. And--” Ray moved both hands off the oven door handle and lifted them up placatingly, “I also know when to back off. So I think I’ll go take that shower now.” He went quickly to rummage in one of his suitcases. Fraser remained motionless at the stove and just watched.

Finally, Ray straightened up and headed to the bathroom. At the door, he paused and turned back to Fraser, who was still staring. “We still good?” His body language indicated he was very unsure.

Fraser nodded in response. Ray cared about him. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone, least of all Fraser. And somehow Fraser knew that Ray only wanted him to heal. They were indeed, ‘good.’

Ray’s face lit up into a smile. “Good, greatness. Okay, then. Pound on the door if I’m not out by the time the stew’s ready.” And he disappeared inside the bathroom.

At the stove, Fraser sagged a little in relief. He and Ray were indeed good, but he’d almost forgotten Ray’s disquieting way of somehow being able to ascertain exactly who and what Benton Fraser was. It was much easier, Fraser had found, to live among people who had no idea what was going on inside you.

He went to stir the stew and found it an unmanageable lump in the pot due to the fact that he’d neglected to even turn the burner on. He sighed inwardly, yanked his thoughts away from their tendency to unproductive introspection, and paid attention to preparing dinner.

TUESDAY

Despite his efforts to ignore it, Ray’s question and the subsequent discussion had unsettled Fraser to the point that he could think of nothing else. “Do you—do you really think there’s some sort of plan for a person’s life?” he asked the next morning, almost without meaning to.

Ray looked up from where he was stacking the two-by-fours that had been delivered just minutes earlier. “I don’t know. Like I said, it’s something I’ve been thinking about.”

Fraser nodded and went on with his calculations, determining the lengths and quantity of boards they would need to begin constructing the first wall. He resolved that nothing more would be said about the subject.

His resolve held for approximately twenty-five minutes. “If such a plan exists,” he heard himself start while drawing out the cut marks for Ray on the first batch of boards, “then how do you account for the bad things that happen in a person’s life?”

Ray leaned against the board he was holding ready to take the place of the one Fraser was marking on the sawhorses and seemed to think about it. He shrugged, then answered, “I guess it depends on what the bad thing is. Usually there’s something to be learned. Maybe sometimes, it’s a combination, you know, of your theory and this one: like there’s maybe a general plan for a person’s life, but it’s also true that stuff just happens sometimes and we’ve just got to deal the best way we can.”

Fraser looked back down at his pencil mark and shook his head. “That seems,” he said lifting the board off the sawhorses and placing it on the stack of marked boards “to be a remarkably forgiving sort of theory. As if there is a Benign Planner with some sort of idea for our lives, but he or she can’t be held responsible for bad things that happen because that’s simply the way it goes sometimes.” He could taste the bitterness of that in his mouth and moved to the Jeep to get his thermos of water.

“No harm, no foul?” Ray’s tone was light, but his eyes were serious.

“But there was harm. There...is, I mean.” Fraser leaned against the Jeep and ran his thumb over his eyebrow. He studied his feet stretched out at the ends of his legs in front of him.

“So what did you need to learn, do you think?” Ray’s voice was quiet and came from beside him now.

“What does any six year old need to learn from having his mother killed?” He felt Ray’s hand on the back of his neck now, resting there, warm and strong. He sighed. Ray sighed with him.

“Got me there, Benton Fraser. That just plain sucked.” The hand on the back of his neck pulled him in close to Ray’s side for a brief sideways hug.

Fraser was so grateful that Ray had not attempted to explain that event away as having had some higher purpose, that for a moment he couldn’t see clearly. He leaned back away from Ray again, but Ray left his hand where it was. “And then,” Fraser started again after clearing his throat, “there’s Victoria.”

“Yeah.” Ray scratched his chin with his left hand. “And Stella.”

“Yeah.” Fraser looked back at his feet. “What’s the lesson there then?”

“Been thinking about that.”

“About Stella, you mean?”

“And Victoria, too. Sometimes when I think about me you get all mixed in there too, I can’t seem to help it.” Fraser looked at Ray in surprise, wondering what exactly that comment meant. Ray didn’t look back at him. His hand, however, squeezed Fraser’s neck comfortingly. “I think that we both needed to learn that it was okay to need people. Everyone needs people, Fraser. Even you. You push people away for a long enough time it’s likely to rebound on you. Then suddenly you desperately need the absolute worst person you could pick.”

“I didn’t want to need Victoria,” Fraser could only whisper.

“No, I’m sure you didn’t.”

“I had thought that maybe it was the darkness in her, calling to some darkness in me...” Fraser spoke his deepest fear out loud, that somehow he had called Victoria into being with some dark part of his soul, that he was responsible for her and everything she did.

“Darkness? You’re not at all dark, Fraser. Little needy, maybe, but not dark.” Ray looked at him now with a light in his eyes that made Fraser want to believe what he was saying.

“How can you know that?”

“Cause I know you. You’re my partner and my friend.”

“Was that hard to say?” He used the phrase deliberately, knowing that Ray was doing the same, that through this mirroring a long-ago conversation they were reaffirming their connection, reestablishing what they meant to each other.

“Not in the least,” Ray finished and grinned at him. Then he looked deliberately back at the work site. “And it’s also not hard for me to say that if we don’t get moving, Dief’s going to have a whole litter before he has a house to raise them in.”

“I don’t believe that’s anatomically possible, Ray, but you may be right.” And maybe he was, Fraser thought as they got back to work.

That evening, the phone rang just as they were sitting down to dinner. Fraser answered it. “Hello, Constable Benton Fraser speaking.”

The voice on the other end was short and to the point.

“I see,” Fraser answered evenly, but he could feel his ire rising. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out so well.”

Ray looked up from his own dinner and mouthed, “Dief?”

Fraser nodded shortly and turned his attention back to the man on the phone. “We’ll be there shortly. Expect us...” He craned his head to see the clock above the sink, “by seven at the latest.” He replaced the phone in its cradle and wiped his hands over his face wearily. He sat still for a moment with his eyes closed. Then, dropping his hands, he reapplied himself to his dinner.

Ray waited a few minutes more before asking, “We gonna go get him?”

“Yes. It appears that Diefenbaker did indeed delay too long and the day is not his to be seized, after all.”

“What a bitch.”

Despite his mood, Fraser felt his mouth quirk up almost into a smile. He drank his milk instead. He put the glass down, wiped his mouth and then said, “Agreed. However, that’s neither here nor there. But it is true that Dief is there and he needs to be here, so it would behoove us to finish up quickly to best expedite that process.”

“I’m right behind you, Fraser.”

By eight o’clock, they were home again, two men and an unrepentant wolf. Diefenbaker had been extremely pleased to see not only Fraser but Ray, too and had generally made much of himself to the point of actual barking and capering.

Floyd Bunsen, owner of the bitch in question, had eyed Dief’s behavior with a jaundiced expression. “Hmph.” He paused to expectorate. “That’s more energy than I seen all week from that pup.”

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out, Mr. Bunsen, we’ll just be on our way.” Fraser kept his tone civil and his body language neutral. “I hope things work out better for you next time around.” There was no discussion of whether Dief would be called into service again. It was evident that he would not. At least not at this farm.

This did not worry Fraser overly much. He did not particularly care for Floyd Bunsen; something about the man’s manner had never sat well with Fraser. There had never been any evidence that Bunsen mistreated his animals, but his teams, while fast, had a reputation for being ill-tempered and prone to fighting.

Fraser explained all this to Ray on the ride home, while Dief lay blissfully silent and content in the back seat.

“Why send Dief there at all, then, Fraser?” Ray asked, not unreasonably.

Fraser hesitated. “I’m not sure. I suppose I was reluctant to appear rude. Refusing outright might have convinced him that I held Dief and myself in higher esteem than he and his dogs.”

Ray nodded and appeared to think about this. “So you were trying to fit in?”

“I suppose So” Fraser answered and realized it was true.

“Where do you think you stand now?” Ray asked curiously.

“I’m not sure,” Fraser replied. “But I’m not worried about it.”

“Yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell, punctuated only by Dief’s snores.

“She probably wasn’t his type, you know?”

Fraser glanced at his partner. Ray was looking out the window. Fraser looked forward again and watched the yellow dividing line disappear into the darkness ahead. “That’s probably true.”

“Maybe she was more concerned with pulling the sled than being a mom.”

“Most likely.”

“Or she could’ve just wanted, you know, a fancier model, some sleeker, slicked-down husky type, instead some old half-wolf fuzzball, you think?”

“Then that would be her loss, I think,” Fraser answered lightly and not-so-lightly, at the same time.

“Yeah.” More silence. Then “You know, I think he was just too good for her,” Ray said significantly.

Fraser heard the significance of the tone and cocked his head to listen carefully.

“Yeah,” Ray was warming up. “She’s some bad-ass Sled Bitch, probably fought her way up in the line by using her teeth and claws.” Ray made clawing motions with his hands. “She probably got to where she enjoyed it. But Dief-” Dief shifted in the back seat and then sat up. “-Dief’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fish.”

Dief barked.

“He meant it metaphorically, he didn’t really call you a fish,” Fraser said soothingly.

Ray ignored the byplay and went on. “Dief is pure of heart, a true hero-type. Now, I’m not saying he can’t be fierce, because he can, I’ve seen him, others have seen him, he’s one fierce puppy. But see,” he turned on the seat, pulling one knee up to face Fraser more fully. “Dief’s a Good Guy. Those Bad Girls, they can’t take a Good Guy for long. Especially, if they don’t want to stop being Bad. You know what I mean?”

Fraser was quiet.

“You know?” Ray pushed.

“Yeah. I know.” Fraser answered finally, feeling the odd pounding of his heart reverberating through his body to his fingertips. He risked a quick look at Ray.

“Do you?” Ray’s eyes didn’t leave his.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Ray slapped Fraser’s thigh gently and shifted back in his seat to face forward again. “Then let’s get His Highness back there home and go to bed. I’m whipped.”

“As you say.”

Fraser drove them home.

By necessity, they retired together each evening. Fraser supposed he could have stayed up reading at the table, or even in the chair with the lamp on its dimmest setting, but it seemed impolite to even think of inconveniencing Ray that way. Besides, he thought as he finished up at the toilet and moved to the sink, it was just...cozier to go to bed at the same time. The untoward thought left him feeling flushed, and he busied himself with his toothpaste and toothbrush.

Ray had left his own toothbrush and paste out on the edge of the sink again. Fraser regarded them thoughtfully as he brushed. Each night, Ray had left them there, balanced on the edge of the sink, almost but not quite teetering off. Each night, Fraser had taken them and stowed them neatly back into Ray’s toiletry bag which sat on the back of the toilet. Ray had been visiting...living with him, really...for three nights now.

The encroachment of his personal space had been difficult to get used to. It seemed as though every time he turned around, he’d tripped over some piece of Ray’s luggage, barked his shin on a coffee table that was no longer in its customary place, or collided warmly with Ray himself. The single bathroom was littered with Ray’s various products both for hygiene and hair care, travel-sized reminders that Fraser no longer lived here alone. No matter how many times he threw them back into Ray’s bag, every day they migrated out again. There was no escape from Ray, not even in sleep, since they shared the same bed.

He was forced to admit it was getting to him. He’d found himself fussily re-zipping Ray’s now disastrous suitcase with its incomprehensible mix of dirty and clean clothes, repeatedly shoving the coffee table back into position, becoming keenly aware at all times of the exact location of one Raymond Kowalski so as not to be caught unaware with an armful of his partner again. And every night, he repacked Ray’s toiletry bag.

Fraser leaned over and spit, then rinsed his mouth and spit again. Finished, he regarded himself in the mirror. Ray is your best friend, he told his reflection silently yet with great emphasis. In his heart, he knew his grandmother would not be pleased. Friends and family should be and should feel welcome in your home.

He’d been working hard to...contain...Ray’s presence in his home, as if, by doing so, he could contain Ray’s presence in his life. He shook his head at himself. It was a pointless exercise. And it was time to change it.

He straightened up and automatically his hand reached for Ray’s toothbrush and paste, but instead of putting them back into Ray’s bag, he hung the toothbrush next to his own, and put the paste on top of his in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. Step one, he thought with satisfaction. Now he just had to communicate his new frame of mind to Ray.

He closed the bathroom door quietly and made his way to the bed. Ray was already in bed and so was... Dief. Fraser stopped by his side of the bed and stared.

Dief glanced at him, closed his eyes and snuggled his head more comfortably into Fraser’s pillow. Fraser stared more significantly and crossed his arms. Dief cracked open one eye and sighed the sigh of the martyred. Groaning, he pushed himself to a sitting position and hung his head with a low whimper. “Isn’t this where the pack sleeps?” he asked as if he was simply a pup who had misunderstood.

“I assure you it is where Ray and I sleep. It is, not, however, where you sleep. You have a perfectly serviceable rug in front of the fire and another one under this very bed,” Fraser answered snappishly.

The next sound was rather more sulky.

“Ray sleeps here because...he is Ray.” Fraser groped for a better response. “Besides, you know you don’t care for this mattress, it bothers your back.”

Dief rolled his eyes insolently but jumped off the bed and headed toward the rug in front of the fireplace where he flopped himself down theatrically. Since the primary objective had been attained, Fraser decided to overlook the tone of his compliance. Just this once.

He got himself settled in bed and turned to find Ray regarding him with some glee. “What?” he asked with an edge to his tone.

“You guys. I swear you guys are more married than we are,” Ray said, and then flushed. “I mean, listening to you two is just like listening to Mom and Dad,” he added hurriedly.

“I take it one of your parents frequently has to take the other to task?”

“Oh, sure.”

“And by your previous comment, I assume you mean that you and I also act like a married couple?” Perhaps this joke would be an opportunity for Fraser to communicate to Ray his new mind set.

“Well....” Unfortunately, Ray’s face had lost all traces of humor. “Yeah, you know, partners, sleeping together, that kind of thing. You know.” The hopeful tone of voice, the half grin indicated that he hoped Fraser did know.

“Then, I would be within my rights, as part of this married couple, to take you to task for inappropriate behavior?” Fraser went with the façade, crossed his arms and gave Ray the same stare he’d given Dief. “Ray, about your clothes...”

“Yeah?” Ray said without a smile, sitting up quickly.

“Since you are going to be here a while--”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Fraser, I know they’ve been in your way, I’ll just--”

“No. I mean,” Fraser looked at Ray now, took in the way his shoulders were hunched in, the way that Ray was very carefully not looking at him and realized that Ray was not taking this as a joke. He uncrossed his arms and hastened to explain. “I mean you are welcome to share the closet, if you’d like to hang some things up, and I’ve got two drawers that are empty that you are free to call your own.”

“Really? You mean that?” Ray’s head turned slightly now, so that Fraser could see one side of his face, see how the light highlighted the cheekbone, the shape of his mouth.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t offer sooner.”

Ray turned the rest of the way toward him and met Fraser’s gaze directly. “This mean you gonna quit packing me up in the bathroom, too?”

Now Fraser’s eyes dropped and he stared at the worn quilt that covered them. “Ah, yes. I’m sorry about that. I realize I’ve probably made you feel unwelcome. That was not my intention.”

A finger tap under his chin surprised him and brought his head back up. Ray was gazing at him seriously.

“Nah. That’s okay. I knew it must be pretty overwhelming for you, me here all the time, and my stuff everywhere. It’ll be easier for me to keep it straighter now that I’ve got places to put things.”

Ray’s easy acceptance of the fact that Fraser’d needed some time to adjust to living with someone relaxed a tension in Fraser that he hadn’t been aware he’d been feeling. Ray wasn’t angry, didn’t seem to think he was any more of a freak than usual. Relief had his mouth open before he knew what he was going to say. “You’re welcome here, Ray.”

“Yeah?” Ray’s hand came up and gently touched Fraser’s face in what could only be called a caress. “Thanks, Fraser. That’s good to know.” He tapped Fraser’s face twice very gently, and pulled his hand away. He lay down and rolled over on his side, facing away from Fraser, apparently ready to settle into sleep.

Fraser brought his own hand up to his face and stared at Ray’s back in some confusion. Finally, heart still racing, he, too, lay back and, after turning off the bedside lamp, waited for sleep to claim him.

WEDNESDAY

Wednesday morning, Ray and Fraser headed back to the cabin. The morning was brisk in a manner that hinted at an approaching autumn, and Fraser, hefting the tool box out of the back of the Jeep, enjoyed the cool breeze that ghosted over his bare arms. Ray, on the other hand, appeared to be shivering in his tank top. He tumbled out of his side of the car and rubbed his hands briskly over his arms. “Fraser. I’m freezing. Did we bring the coffee?”

“Back seat, Ray.”

“Greatness.” Ray leaned in and snagged the wide thermos from the floorboard and busied himself preparing a cup of the warm beverage. “Hey, this already has cream and sugar in it,” he said as he poured out a cup, looking at Fraser.

“Since you are the one who drinks it, it makes sense to prepare it to your preference, Ray. It eliminates unnecessary complications.” Fraser deposited the tool box on the cabin’s wood floor and crouched down to unhook the latches.

“Makes sense. Yeah.” He heard Ray say behind him. Before he could turn around, he felt Ray’s cold fingers thread through his hair and pat his head. “Thanks, Fraser.” Then Ray moved past him, to sit on an empty crate and savor his morning coffee.

“You’re...ah...welcome, Ray.” Somewhat nonplussed, Fraser turned back to the toolbox and extracted two hammers. Standing again, he set one hammer by Ray on the crate, and handling his own, moved over to the framework for the first of the two walls. With a practiced eye, he checked over the work that they had accomplished yesterday, noting with satisfaction that there were no protruding nails or other obvious deficiencies. Today they could start on the third wall.

“What’s up for today?” Ray had joined him, his hands stuck under his arms, his hammer sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Ray, you’re cold.”

“Won’t be once we get going, Fraser. Where do we start?” Ray hopped up and down in place.

“Well, we’ll start on the third wall today and once that’s finished we can use the winch to raise the first two, at least.” Fraser walked back to the Jeep as he spoke and opened the door to the back seat. Groping slightly under the driver’s seat, he found what he was looking for. “I think what we need to do first is cut the beams for the third wall. Here.” He tossed Ray his Henley.

Ray caught it with one hand, opened it up and grinned back at Fraser. “Hey, great, thanks.” He pulled on Fraser’s shirt over his own tank top. “I may survive now.”

“That would be my intention, Ray,” Fraser managed, unprepared for the way seeing Ray wear his shirt would make him feel.

Ray ducked his chin down into the shirt’s neck. “Smells like you.”

“I’m...sorry, I thought it was clean,” Fraser said, realizing too late how inane he sounded.

“Nah, it’s clean, no worries, it just...smells like you.” Ray’s eyes met his. “That’s all.”

“Is that a good thing?” Had he lost his mind?

“Yeah, that’s a good thing, Fraser.” Ray smiled. “Now, shouldn’t we be doing something here?”

“Right.” Fraser groped for his scattered wits and pulled them together in a semblance of order. “Let’s get busy.”

The work progressed rapidly. Ray utilized the power saw, cutting the boards that Fraser measured. When the boards were cut they both worked to hammer them together.

Around eleven, they were interrupted. Ray noticed first and nudged Fraser. “Hey, they’re here again.” He very carefully didn’t turn around but continued with his work.

Fraser glanced behind them, using his peripheral vision. Ray was right. There was indeed a bevy of young women setting up what could only be called a buffet on a table they had evidently brought with them. Two folding chairs leaned against a station wagon nearby. Inwardly, Fraser sighed. Outwardly, he flicked his fingers across his eyebrow. Instinctively, he moved closer to Ray only to bump shoulders with him. Evidently Ray had had the same instinct.

“Your fan club strikes again, Fraser,” Ray mumbled around the nails in his mouth before taking one out and pounding it into place.

“I think they could more rightfully be defined as your fan club, Ray. Which is not to say they should even be identified as such, seeing as how such an identification would seem to belittle each one’s individ-”

“Fraser. Get a grip.”

“They didn’t start coming out until you arrived, Ray,” Fraser pointed out logically.

“They really didn’t?” Ray’s grin, sans nails now, was almost blinding.

Fraser felt a jolt of affectionate exasperation. “Really.”

“Heh.” Ray jostled his shoulder. “So they’re out here to see me in a tank top? I don’t think so, Fraser.” Ray’s skin was warm against Fraser’s shirt sleeve.

“Why ever not, Ray? You’re good looking, you have intriguing hair, and...” Fraser glanced down at Ray’s torso and then quickly away, “...your appearance in a tank top is not at all displeasing.” Ray’s hammer slipped just then and he just missed banging his thumb. “Are you all right?”

“Huh? Oh. Sure, Fraser. I’m fine. I...missed.” Fraser could not explain the look in Ray’s eye, which seemed intense, almost as if he was in pain.

“Boys?” NatalieJean’s voice interrupted their conversation (if two men staring at each other in silence could be called a conversation) and recalled them both to the present moment. “Lunchtime!”

“Lunchtime, Fraser. You ready to eat?” Ray’s face changed, the intensity faded and his eyes now reflected only amusement. “Help me with the names again, okay?”

“Certainly, Ray.” Turning together, they greeted the women and sat down to lunch.

The women were very attentive while Fraser and Ray ate. Fraser was extremely aware that RoseMarie, NatalieJean’s clerk at the library, kept him under particularly close scrutiny. Every mouthful of iced tea that he consumed was replaced as soon as he set his glass down. When a small gust of wind blew his napkin to the ground, she was at his side with a new one before the edges of the old one stopped fluttering. He nodded politely each time but was reluctant to acknowledge her any further for fear of encouraging her obvious interest.

Instead, he concentrated primarily on his own meal and on watching Ray interact with the others. Ray spoke to the girls easily and with evident enjoyment. Despite his fears, he seemed to quickly pick up their names and seldom misidentified one. On their part, the girls seemed to relish Ray’s accent and his quirky comments. Their good-natured laughter was frequent.

Fraser felt his own mood darken. He began eating faster hoping to finish quickly and get back to work.

“Hey, Frase, lift your head out of your plate a sec, and tell the girls how long we’ve known each other.”

At Ray’s question, Fraser lifted his head and looked at Ray. Ray sat casually in his chair, legs splayed, with one elbow on the table by his plate and one hooked over the back of his chair. The rest of his body was turned toward Fraser even though such a posture meant his back was to most of the girls. His body language was open, his eyes were dancing. With his whole being, Ray invited Fraser to join in the joke, to join the conversation. Fraser did not know what the joke might be, but found he was unable to refuse such a blatant request for his attention.

“About four years,” he answered after wiping his mouth with his fresh napkin.

“Is it true that you and Ray,” first name basis already, Fraser noted, “went off on an Arctic adventure? Looking for Franklin’s hand?” Theresa Simmons asked somewhat breathlessly.

“Yes. We did.” Fraser did not elaborate.

Ray did.

“We sure did and let me tell you, if it weren’t for Fraser, I’d be one with the glaciers about now. There was this one time, I was driving the sled and Fraser was skiing up ahead of me. If he hadn’t happened to look back...”

“Really, Ray, I’m sure you would have been able to extricate yourself given enough time, I simply expedited your own attempts.”

“Expedited? I hope that means the same thing as ‘saved my ass’ because that there’s what you did, Fraser.”

“What happened?” gasped Cyn. The other girls crowded close.

“What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. What happened was, I drove the dogs off a cliff—”

“It was really a small gully, Ray.”

“So the dogs are over the edge and pulling, the sled’s teetering at the edge, and I can’t remember the word for ‘Stop’!”

“A very common mistake among beginners, I assure you,” Fraser put in smoothly.

“So I’m yelling now, but all I can think to yell is “No! No! Bad dogs!” Like you would if a dog sh--,” Ray’s faced reddened and he paused. “I mean, had an accident on the carpet,” he went on.

Fraser noticed a few of the girls nudging one another. NatalieJean winked at him over Ray’s head. Unaware, Ray continued his story. “But the dogs don’t care, those words don’t mean anything to them, so they keep pulling. So the sled went over the edge and down into the gully, hit the bottom and flipped over.” Ray stopped then and shook his head with a sigh. “I was such a greenhorn.”

“What did the constable do?” RoseMarie surprised them all by speaking up.

“I’m just getting to that part.” Ray took a sip of his iced tea. “So I’m lying at the bottom of the gully, face down and thinking I should just stay that way, when Fraser skids to a stop on the other side, covering me with snow, by the way.”

“I’ve said I was sorry, Ray. Repeatedly.” With an effort, Fraser held in his smile.

Ray merely looked at him. “You pay and you pay and you pay...” he replied just for Fraser’s ears. Fraser did grin then. RoseMarie, who had been refilling his tea, made a small kind of noise and slopped some on the tabletop.

“So,” Ray continued, “he shouted the words, the team stopped and he helped me turn the sled over and repack it.”

“What were the words, Ray?” NatalieJean asked with interest.

To Fraser’s amusement, Ray’s face turned red. “That’s not important. What is important is that without his help, I would still be lying there, one with the glacier, writhing in embarrassment. A true friend, ladies, never acknowledges that you have just royally embarrassed yourself. A true friend picks you up, dusts you off and congratulates you on a job well done.” Ray nodded sagely.

“Or, at least, a job well-attempted,” Fraser inserted.

“Yeah, right.” Ray’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Fraser held his tongue.

Later, when they were getting ready for bed, Ray surprised him with a question. “Have you known those girls long?”

Fraser looked up from his dresser to see Ray unselfconsciously stripping out of his jeans. “Uh...no, not as such, Ray.” Fraser turned back around quickly and extracted his thermals from the open drawer. “Most of them I’ve only known as long as I have been stationed here.”

Nearly-naked, Ray brushed past him to his part of the dresser and opened one of his drawers.

“Most?” Ray sat on the bed next to Fraser, his thermal shirt in his lap.

“NatalieJean grew up in Paulatuk, one of the settlements along the route my grandparents traveled with their library. So I saw her from time to time as I was growing up.”

“So that’s a connection for you. That must have been kind of cool to come here and see her.”

Fraser opened his mouth and hesitated. He really hadn’t thought all that much about it. He considered it now. “Yes, I guess it was.”

Ray nodded and unfolded his shirt. “You don’t have a lot of those. Connections, I mean, to your past.”

“We are all connected to our pasts, Ray. The past is, after all, what made us what we are today.” Fraser took off his own sweatshirt and henley and stood to move to the bathroom.

Ray’s hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to look back at Ray to see him sitting on the edge of the bed clad only in his boxer briefs, (would he never put that shirt on?), regarding Fraser seriously. “’Constable Fraser.’ That’s what they all call you. ‘Would you like some more tea, Constable?’ ‘How about another helping of macaroni and cheese, Constable?’ ‘Constable, can I get you some more cornbread?’”

Fraser stiffened. “Well, Ray, I am a constable here...”

“That all you are?”

Fraser stood unmoving, clutching his thermal underwear, staring at Ray. Ray’s eyes pinned him like a butterfly on a board. If only he’d gotten to the bathroom a little sooner...

“Is that all you are? Constable Fraser?” Ray repeated more gently, squeezing Fraser’s wrist. “Fraser. You’ve been here a year but you don’t know when the skating rink is open, you haven’t gone to the community theater, you haven’t even eaten in one of the restaurants. Haven’t you gone out on a date? Asked someone to dinner?” Fraser’s silence was evidently enough of an answer, because Ray went on. “Who’s the last person to call you anything other than ‘Constable’?”

Fraser sat back down with a sigh, and dropped his head to his hands. “Quinn.”

Ray’s hand left his wrist and skated up his arm. Fraser felt the bed shift as Ray moved closer, then felt the warmth of Ray’s bare arm along his shoulders. “Yeah. That’s good. Who else?”

“Ray called me Benny.” Fraser scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Yeah. I remember. Didja like that?” Ray sounded skeptical.

Fraser smiled into his hands. “I did. Not so much for the name...but for the intimacy implied, I guess. The trappings of friendship.” His mouth twisted.

“Don’t think that it was just trappings, Vecchio was a good friend.”

“Yes. Yes, he was, Ray.” Fraser turned and found Ray looking directly at him.

“Who else?” Ray encouraged him to go on with a jerk of his chin.

“Ah...” Fraser wanted to look away, but something in Ray’s gaze held him. Not a challenge, but an...empathy, perhaps. “Victoria...she called me Ben.” He tore his gaze away from Ray and rubbed his eyebrow with shaking fingers. “I can still hear how she said it...all the...ways...she said it.”

Ray reached over and took his hand away from his eyebrow and held it. Now Fraser could feel the warmth of Ray’s torso all along his side. It was astonishingly comforting.

“Anyone else?” Ray’s voice was soft.

Fraser found himself leaning into Ray, as if Ray were the heavier one and such an occurrence was simply the result of gravity. “My father. He often called me ‘Son’, but just as often ‘Benton.’ I don’t think,” Fraser paused to consider, “that he ever called me Ben.”

“How about your grandparents?”

“Oddly enough, perhaps, they seldom called me by name. I was the only child, so there was no need to distinguish me from another child, but when they did utilize my name, it was Benton.”

Now Ray’s hand was rubbing up and down over his shoulder, as if to soothe him. “What did your mum call you?” he whispered.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember,” Fraser whispered back, feeling the loneliness of that welling up inside him. “Why are we talking about this, anyway?” Everything inside him wanted to get up, leave Ray’s embrace, and get to the bathroom where he was safe, but he couldn’t seem to leave the warm circle of Ray’s arms.

“Because...you’re lonely, Fraser. And I...I don’t want you to be lonely.” Ray’s head was against his now, his mouth next to Fraser’s ear. “But you’re not going to stop being lonely, unless you let people get to know more of you than just the constable part.”

“I’m not lonely.” Fraser argued. “I’ve got friends. I have a sister. I’ve got...you,” he said, greatly daring.

“But Ray Vecchio is far away. And Maggie is pretty far, too. And, me...I just call you ‘Fraser’ like everyone else.”

Fraser turned his head sharply within Ray’s hold, but Ray’s eyes were closed though the pain on his face was evident, as if he didn’t know how close he was to Fraser. How deeply inside Fraser’s heart he was embedded. “Nobody else says my name like you do.”

Ray’s eyes opened, and they were caught there, nose to nose, eye to eye, Ray wrapped around Fraser for an endless moment. “Yeah?” Ray said finally, his eyes beginning to light up.

Fraser felt a smile ghost into his eyes. “Yeah,” he answered very deliberately.

“Greatness,” Ray whispered back. They held their positions for a moment more, then Ray backed away slightly. “Guess I’d better let you get changed.”

Fraser looked at him blankly. Ray let go of Fraser’s hand and grabbed a handful of Fraser’s thermals and shook them slightly, reminding Fraser that he was changing for bed. Oh. “Ah, yes. Right you are.” Fraser pulled reluctantly away from Ray and stood up. “I’ll just ...go.” Ray waved him away and flopped back on the bed, his thermal shirt covering his head.

In the bathroom, Fraser changed out of his jeans with hands he willed to stop shaking. He felt unsettled. He felt as though Ray had turned him inside out. He felt like...turning the tables. After all, whom did Ray have? He would bet that Ray was just as lonely as he was. Just as...walled off. He slid into his thermals quickly and brushed his teeth. Then he squared his shoulders and left the bathroom intent on his quarry.

“And you, Ray? Aren’t you just as lonely?” The words were out of his mouth before his feet crossed the threshold.

Ray looked up from where he still lay flat on the bed, apparently startled. And he still hadn’t put his shirt on. He held it now, clutched in his right hand. “Whatcha talking about, Fraser?”

“Who in your life calls you ‘Ray’, Ray?” Fraser tried the same approach Ray had used with him.

“Everyone I know, Fraser.” Ray’s startled reaction had faded and his eyes were now quizzically amused. Fraser felt himself flush.

He moved through the cabin mechanically turning off lights and mentally trying to regroup. At the sofa, he turned, “That may be true, Ray,” he conceded, “but how many of them can you count among your true friends?” he finished pointedly.

Ray was silent, head back again he seemed to be staring at the ceiling, his mouth a thin line. Ah ha.

Fraser pushed further. “How many people have you asked out in the past year, Ray?” He stood beside the bed now, stirred up, unsettled, wanting Ray to feel the same.

“A few.”

Some of the air seemed to go out of Fraser upon hearing that pronouncement, leaving him feeling rather flat. “Really?”

“Yeah, Fraser.” Now Ray’s hand came up to rub over his face and neck and shoulder restlessly. He glanced at Fraser standing beside the bed, then shifted upwards on the bed until he was sitting up by the pillows. He jerked his head to indicate that Fraser should sit down. Fraser sat.

“Did you meet--that is to say,” Fraser cracked his neck, “did you meet someone special?”

Oddly, Ray just looked at him for a few seconds. “You mean someone new?”

Fraser nodded, curiously breathless.

“No.”

Fraser let his air out with a rush. “Ah. So you, too, are lonely.”

Ray winked at him, but only one corner of his mouth made it up into a smile. “Yeah, Fraser. It’s been that kind of year.”

Fraser pulled his feet up and lay on his side, Ray seemed to consider, then mirrored his position on top of the covers. They regarded one another. “Would you care to elaborate?” Fraser ventured finally.

Ray lifted his head and propped it up on one arm. “Well, you know most of it.”

“I know some of what you did. I can only guess,” Fraser rolled on his back “at how you felt.” He turned his head to look back at Ray. Ray met his eyes, then rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, hands on his chest.

“It sucked.” His long fingers lifted eloquently, tapping some obscure rhythm. “Well, at first, especially, but pretty much all year.” He glanced briefly at Fraser. “See, I’d had, what a year? a year and a half? being Vecchio.”

“Twenty months,” Fraser inserted automatically, then flushed as if to know such a thing was somehow something to be embarrassed by. He did not look at Ray.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ray turn his head and start to smile, but then repress it. He turned back. “Right, twenty months,” he told the ceiling. “Anyway, then I’d had another, what three? four? months adventuring with you--” He stopped as if waiting for Fraser to say something. Fraser determinedly didn’t. “Where I was Ray Kowalski again, but with only you to know it,” he went on finally.

“So.” He shifted his shoulders consideringly and let out a gust of air. “There I was, back in Chicago, just me, Ray Not-Vecchio Not-Stella’s-Husband Kowalski with no Mountie partner to call my own.”

Now Fraser did look at his former partner, but Ray wasn’t looking at him. Instead Ray seemed lost in contemplation or, perhaps, memory and continued to stare off into space.

“I kind of had to figure out who I was again. And you know what I figured out?” Now Ray turned to catch Fraser’s gaze with his own. “I’ve let other people define who I am all my life. My entire life.”

Fraser felt his brow knit, and moistened his lips in preparation of a firm rebuttal.

Ray held up one hand to forestall him. “No, really. Look Fraser,” He sat up suddenly and crossed his legs, arms in his lap. He held up one finger. “First, my parents, there I was Damian and Barbara’s son, the meat-packer’s kid.” He held up another finger. “Then, to the kids at school I was Stanley the Four-Eyed Geek.” A third finger was added, “Then, I’m 14, I see Stella, I’m in love and before I know it, I’m Stella’s Ray. Ray, the guy she hangs out with, the guy her posh friends have to accept and make room for if they’re going to continue to be her friends.” He grinned confidentially and leaned toward Fraser. “Stella had balls even then, Fraser. She didn’t let any of those snobs tell her what to do. And they wanted her to dump me.”

Fraser felt his heart twist suddenly for the child and then the adolescent Ray had been. Gawky and long-limbed, but undoubtedly endearing all the same. He felt an unexpected camaraderie with Stella, who had evidently seen more than the outside of Ray had suggested.

Ray went on. “So I was Stella’s Ray for a long time, Fraser. A long time. Fourteen to thirty -four? That’s what... twenty years? Twenty years.” He dropped his head into his hands. “Shit. No wonder I didn’t know what to do with myself when she left me.” He lifted his head and his eyes pierced Fraser’s. “Which is where, of course, the undercover work came in.”

Fraser put his hand on Ray’s knee.

“See, there, I wasn’t anybody’s Ray, I wasn’t Ray at all.” He threw his arms out. “And it was easy, Fraser, so easy.” He brought his hands back to his lap, leaned forward onto his elbows, his forearm resting against Fraser’s hand. “It was so much easier to be someone else, to be who the cover sheet said I should be, easier ...than being me, by myself, with no Stella, no parents, nobody to tell me who I was, what I should be.”

“Then,” and the corners of his mouth trembled slightly. “Then, I was Ray Vecchio. And I was undercover, but I wasn’t undercover...with you. You knew who I was almost from the beginning. I was never Ray Vecchio with you I was only Ray Kowalski. To the rest of the world, I was Vecchio, I pretended with the best of them, but I didn’t have to pretend with you.”

“I’m glad,” was all Fraser could manage.

“Yeah, me too, Fraser. And it was safe, somehow.” Ray looked up, met Fraser’s gaze with a wry expression then looked down again. “Safe with you, and in the undercover stuff, to think a little about Ray Kowalski, let myself come out sorta naturally, without having to do some heavy soul-searching. Cause I didn’t have to be Ray Kowalski, I couldn’t be him really, I was Vecchio, but still...I could think about him.”

“Think about yourself, you mean.” Fraser didn’t like Ray talking about himself in the third person.

Ray half-laughed and smiled briefly, “Yeah, I thought about myself, although...I seemed as strange to myself as if I was another person. Another undercover job to learn. Which was kind of how I approached things when I went back to Chicago. At first.”

“What did you do?”

“I kind of...” Ray laughed and looked away, “This is dumb, Fraser.”

Fraser could see that Ray was embarrassed, maybe nervous. “I sincerely doubt that. You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know.” He squeezed Ray’s knee.

“Yeah, right...” Ray looked down again, seemed to study Fraser’s hand, then dropped his own over it. “Well, I...filled out my own cover sheet. With, you know, details of what I did, what I...liked.”

“Sounds logical. Did it help?” Fraser kept his voice quiet, threaded his fingers slightly through Ray’s.

“Yeah, yeah, it did Fraser.” Ray met his eyes and smiled ruefully. “Got me back on track.”

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Ray’s eyes were warm. Then they were closed as he was overtaken by an enormous yawn. “Whew, that’s it for me. Hop up, let’s do this right.” He squeezed Fraser’s hand briefly, then unfolded himself to get off the bed. Fraser rolled off his side and they pulled the covers down together.

“G’night, Fraser.” Ray sounded half-asleep already.

“Good night, Ray. Sleep well,” Fraser responded automatically. “Will you tell me more tomorrow?”

“Sure, Fraser, it’ll be True Confessions time, I promise. Tell you all about it...” Ray’s voice trailed off. “Hey, Fraser?” he said sleepily a few moments later.

“Yes, Ray?”

“Thanks for not telling the girls that the word is ‘stop.’”

Fraser felt the stretch of his smile in his ears. He made sure there was no hint of laughter in his voice before he answered. “Of course, Ray. Good night.”

“Night.”

Fraser turned off his bedside lamp and lay in the dark, thinking, for a long time.

THURSDAY

The next day, both men were quiet as they started work. Building the framework was taking longer than Fraser expected which caused him no little stress. However, Ray, too, seemed preoccupied and distant, as if he were thinking extremely hard about something.

Fraser did not have a clear idea what might be bothering Ray or if, indeed, anything was. But he could not shake the feeling that something was off with his partner. To keep his mind off his own troubles of time and construction, he watched Ray surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. It was somewhat of a challenge, as Ray was both perceptive and in constant motion around the site. It was really only a matter of time before Ray figured out he was being observed and once that happened—

“Fraser!”

“Yes, Ray?” Fraser met Ray’s exasperated irritation calmly.

“Why don’t you just ask me whatever it is you’re trying to stare out of me?” Ray tapped his foot and glared.

Fraser turned back to the framework and considered. It was, indeed, the more direct method. “Very well. Are you all right? You seem very quiet this morning.”

“I’m fine, Fraser.”

“You’ll excuse me for mentioning it, I’m sure, but it’s been my experience with you, Ray, that the answer ‘I’m fine’ seldom means that.”

Ray’s head whipped up and he stared at the side of Fraser’s head. Fraser deliberately didn’t look at him, but selected another nail from the pouch at his waist and pounded it into place with a single stroke.

“How do you do that anyway?” Ray used his own hammer to gesture vaguely toward Fraser and the now properly placed nail.

“It’s just a matter of force and acceleration. Here, I’ll show you.” Fraser opened his arms and gestured for Ray to come closer.

Ray sidled nearer.

Fraser positioned the nail properly, and gestured with his chin for Ray to move in a little. “The trick to a powerful stroke lies in your wrist.” Fraser demonstrated. With a solid thunk! his hammer connected with the nail and pushed it almost all the way in.

Ray stared at the nail. He appeared to be impressed. At least, that was one possible reason for his fascination.

“So the trick is in your wrist you say?” Ray looked at Fraser’s hand.

“Yes.”

“Do you like a snap? Or a flick?”

Fraser felt himself flush. “Pardon?” he asked for clarification.

“The motion of your wrist, is it strong and hard like a snap? Or lighter and softer like a flick?”

Fraser wasn’t sure he could stand this close to Ray and hear that mouth say words like that for much longer. But, just as his discomfort was registering internally, Ray moved closer still and asked for more.

“Show me?” Ray now stood directly in front of Fraser with his hand upraised and a nail in position.

Fraser groaned inwardly but could come up with no conceivable reason to refuse. Hadn’t he invited Ray over here to “show him?” He stepped up behind Ray and wrapped his hand around Ray’s hand on the hammer.

“You need to hold the hammer lower on the handle.” Fraser exerted pressure and together his hand and Ray’s moved down the hammer’s shaft. “Perhaps, I should hold the nail,” he suggested somewhat breathlessly in, he realized too late, Ray’s left ear. He raised his left hand somewhat tentatively to take it. Ray shifted fractionally and held out the nail. Fraser took it and held it into place. He took a deep breath and concentrated only on the nail. He altered his grip slightly over Ray’s hand, shifted his feet to more evenly distribute his weight and with a single stroke, slammed the nail home. He let go of Ray immediately and backed off.

Somewhat to his surprise, the hammer dropped to the wood floor.

“Ray, are you all right?” Fraser hoped he hadn’t broken his toe.

“Yeah, sure, Fraser. I’m pretty good for someone who just missed getting nailed.” Ray smiled with some embarrassment.

“Ah. That’s...funny, Ray.” Fraser knew the slang, knew Ray was making a joke, but couldn’t quite laugh at it.

“Well, I try. Think I’ll take a w