Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, no money is being made from this.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski

Warnings: This is a slash piece, with all implications, uh, implied.

Summary: An AU where Ray Kowalski meets and falls in love with Constable Benton Fraser.

Thank Yous: Thank you first and foremost to Denise Raymond, who has in all ways except literally held my hand throughout the entire conception and production of this piece. It was to her I first said, “Hey, I've got an idea about an AU…” and it was she who read this piece ad nauseum at every single step of the way from unrelated scenes to that which is upon you. The credit for the image of the Ray-soaking-wet-in-the-kitchen-with-his-fists-clenched belongs to her, as well as countless other tidbits. I can't imagine writing this without her.

Thanks also to AuKestrel for an astounding beta job at a time of great personal trial. Please accept my humble apologies for, obviously, knowing nothing about commas. ;) You are a lady of true class and inner strength and I'm honored that you were a part of this project.

Thank you to Kellie Matthews for insights and comments offered, as well.

Dedication: For Denise. There could be no other.

Feedback: Gratefully accepted at jayheffus@yahoo.com


Family Portrait
by
Journey



        It was raining. The crowd surrounding the gravesite was small: her parents, his parents, a few friends and co-workers, his lieutenant. The rain sounded loud on the hastily erected canopy. Katie shifted nervously; her small hand in Ray's was sweaty. In his other arm, he held 18-month old Stevie, who really didn't understand what was going on, but sat silently in Ray's arm, as if he, too, were grieving. Maybe he was. The pastor spoke the words, but Ray heard nothing. He looked at the casket, held their son in his arms, their daughter's hand and felt nothing. The canopy above his head was leaking, evidently, because all at once he saw nothing but a blur. It was like looking at the gravesite underwater. Someone joggled his arm, his dad maybe, and his temper flared. He just managed to keep himself in check and not jab his elbow back. Instead, he gripped Katie's hand a little tighter and moved forward so she could throw the flowers she held onto her mother's casket.
        They moved back and the service concluded. His parents, Stella's parents gathered around them speaking soothingly and holding out their arms for Katie, for Stevie. Ray saw nothing, heard nothing and felt nothing. And he did not let go of his children.

*****

Two years later

        "Ray!"
        At the sound of his name, Ray Kowalski looked up from Ray Vecchio's desk to see a man he knew immediately was Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. What other guy who looked like something off a Christmas tree would walk into the 27th calling Vecchio's name? When he met Constable Fraser's eyes, the other man stopped in surprise and then continued to move, somewhat uncertainly, to where Ray was standing behind the desk.
        "I'm sorry. I was looking for Ray Vecchio." The startlingly blue eyes of the Mountie registered confusion and maybe even a little distress.
        "Yeah, I figured. I'm Ray Kowalski." He put his hand out and Fraser shook it politely but automatically. "Vecchio took an undercover gig while you were on vacation and I'm here to take over his pending case load." The Mountie looked stunned and, though Ray wouldn't have thought it possible, actually lost color in his face. "Hey, there, ho, there. You need to sit down?"
        Ray dropped the file he had been reading and came around the desk in a hurry. He took the Mountie's arm and pulled him to the chair in front. Ray pushed him into it and then moved his hand to the back of the Mountie's neck to push his head down between his knees. He resisted.
        "No, uh, thank you. That's quite all right. I'm fine, I assure you." That fast, he was up again, posture perfect and obviously embarrassed. He bent to pick up his dropped bags and kept on bending. Ray realized what was happening, caught his shoulders quickly and shoved him back into the chair.
        Keeping one hand on the Mountie's shoulder, Ray pointed with the fingers of his other hand. "Now, are you gonna stay there this time, or do I have to kick you in the head?"
        Fraser closed his eyes. "That won't be necessary."
        "Good. Okay, head, down." Ray put his hand on Fraser's head and pushed on it. Fraser complied, dropping it into his hands. "Now, sit. Stay. I'm gonna go get you some water. You move and I'll leave you in a heap on the floor, you got that?"
        He nodded.
        "Okay, then. I'll be right back." Ray gave Fraser's shoulder a squeeze and a quick pat before leaving. He walked quickly down the hall to the lunchroom and got a paper cup of water and, after thinking about it, dug fifty cents out of his pocket and sprang for some M&Ms. So this was the Mountie all Vecchio's cases mentioned. Didn't seem quite so much like Superman this morning. Vecchio's gig had blindsided him, that was for sure. Must not have told him. Ray didn't get it, but then it wasn't his place to get it.
        Surprisingly, the Mountie was right where he'd left him--in the chair with his head in his hands. A white dog that looked a lot like a wolf had suddenly materialized next to him and seemed to be watching him with some concern. As Ray came closer, Fraser dropped a hand from his head and buried it in the dog's fur.
        "Hey, I got you some water and some candy to, you know, get your blood sugar back up."
        Fraser looked up and smiled, a little half-smile that didn't quite manage to reach his eyes. "Thank you, Detective Kowalski. I appreciate your concern." He took the offered water and drank it, but left the candy unopened.
        "Hey, just call me Ray. So, uh, you gonna be okay?"
        "Yes, of course. I'm sorry to have troubled you, it's been a....trying day. Shortly before arriving here, I discovered that my apartment building had burnt down."
        "Wait a minute. Wait just a minute here, Fraser. Can I call you that? Your apartment building burned? Recently? Why didn't you say so?" Ray didn't mean to sound impatient but his ire was up and it came out sounding that way.
        "I just did, Detective and yes, Fraser is fine." Fraser's voice was mildly surprised.
        "So, was anybody hurt? Do you suspect arson?" Ray started searching for the proper forms for a report of suspected arson.
        "Detective Kowalski."
        "They're here somewhere, Fraser. Hang on a sec." Ray felt his body humming like it did when he had a breakthrough in a case. Here was someone to help, and by golly, Ray Kowalski was going to help him.
        "Detective. Detective. Ray!" Ray's head jerked up at the volume and tone of Fraser's voice.
        "What, Fraser?" he snapped, as if they had been working together for years.
        "No one was hurt. All the occupants of the building were either not there or got out in plenty of time to be safe. Apparently the smoke alarms were functional after all." Fraser scrubbed at his face tiredly. "I have no reason to suspect anything other than, perhaps, old wiring."
        Ray's energy dissolved. So, no new case here. Damn. Some part of him was disappointed: this meant the Mountie would leave in a few minutes and Ray probably wouldn't see much of him after that. "Oh. So do you have any place to go?"
        "It would appear so. My superior officer has graciously consented to allow me to live at the consulate for the time being. I must apologize for my," Fraser shifted uncomfortably, "previous, er, lapse. What with one thing or another I haven't actually eaten since this morning."
        As Ray watched, Fraser drank the rest of the water in one swallow and stood back up, back straight, face closed in. "Well, I believe I will speak with Lieutenant Welsh and then take my leave. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ray Kowalski."
        "Likewise, Benton Fraser." Ray took the Mountie's hand and shook it. "Take the candy. Eat it. Don't want you passing out on the steps."
        "Ah, good point." Fraser picked up the M&M's. "Thank you kindly." He gestured to the dog, picked up his bags and left Ray to go in search of Lieutenant Welsh.
        Ray shook his head as he watched them leave and then went back to his paperwork.

****

        Fraser straightened his desk for the sixth time that morning and then attempted to find something else to do. Finding nothing, he decided to ask Inspector Thatcher if she had any tasks that needed completing. Perhaps her dry cleaning was ready. At least that way he would get a walk outside. Refusing to contemplate the state of mind that would lead him to consider picking up Inspector Thatcher's dry cleaning with any sort of relish, Fraser stood, readjusted his tunic and walked purposefully down the hall to the Inspector's office.
        In response to his knock, he heard the Inspector's voice. "Um, yes, just a moment, Turnbull!" Following this he heard a series of thumps and groans that would indicate the Inspector was having some difficulty reaching the door.
        "Inspector? Are you all right?" Fraser tried the door knob but found it locked. He stepped back and raised a foot in preparation for kicking the door down.
        "Fraser?! Wait!" The Inspector's voice was almost a shriek. Fraser paused. When the Inspector next spoke, her command voice seemed completely restored. "I mean, wait there, Constable. Do not enter this office. I am not in danger."
        "Ah. Very well, Inspector." Fraser put his hands behind his back and waited at parade rest. In a few moments, the office door opened.
        "Constable."
        "Inspector," Fraser said, noting her disheveled hair and mis-buttoned blouse but politely refraining from comment. "I have finished my required duties and wondered if, perhaps, you might have additional duties I may assist you with?"
        "Why are you here, Constable?" The Inspector's voice was sharper than it ordinarily was.
        "Well, sir, I ...work here." Fraser began to became concerned that perhaps the Inspector had sustained a head injury while...doing whatever it was she had been doing.
        "I am aware of that, Fraser," she snapped. "What I meant was, why are you here now, today? Isn't this the day you're supposed to be liaising with the Chicago Police Department? Why aren't you there?"
        "As I may have mentioned, Detective Ray Vecchio is no longer with the 27th, having been assigned to an extended undercover operation. Since that is the case, I am unsure of my place at the 27th, or indeed if I even still have one."
        "I see." Thatcher's eyes softened somewhat. "Very well. I will see what additional duties I can come up with. Wait in your office, Constable, I'll be with you shortly."
        Fraser nodded, then turned smartly and retreated to his office. Dief looked up from the cot and whined a question. "She's going to see what she can come up with," Fraser replied. Rather than sit at his pristine desk, Fraser stood with his hands behind his back, stared out the window and thought of the ice fields of home. The phone rang and he answered it. "Yes, sir." He put the phone down, grabbed his hat, and motioned to Dief.
        Once again, he knocked at the Inspector's door. "Come in, Fraser." she called. She was seated behind her desk now, looking far more professional and far less disheveled. "I have an urgent message for you to deliver." She held out an envelope addressed to...Lieutenant Welsh.
        Fraser looked askance at the envelope and made no move to take it. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "Sir..."
         "Take it, Fraser."
        "But, sir..."
        "Take it, Fraser, or I'm going to pin it to your uniform and have Turnbull put you in a cab."
        "Yes, sir." Moving forward, Fraser took the envelope. "Sir, may I ask..?"
        "No, Fraser. You may not. Your instructions are to take this envelope to the 27th and deliver it personally to Lieutenant Welsh and wait for a reply, either verbal or written. If, for some reason, he is not there, you are to wait until he is. You may, of course, take time to get some lunch since you will be out anyway."
        A thud and a muffled groan came from the Inspector's bathroom. Fraser's head swiveled to the door. "Sir?"
        "None of your business, Constable. Now, do you understand your instructions?" the Inspector's face was pink, but her voice remained steely.
        "Yes, sir."
        "Very well. You are dismissed." Thatcher looked pointedly at the door. "Oh, and Fraser, on your way back to the consulate, please pick up my dry cleaning."
        "Of course."
        The walk through the early fall air of Chicago was enjoyable. The air was somewhat crisp (if polluted) and the leaves (and other matter) crackled enjoyably underfoot. Dief raced ahead and ran back, keeping a counterpoint rhythm to his own steady forward pace. All too soon the familiar facade of the Division loomed before him. They entered and climbed the stairs as if this was any other day.
        "Sir, I have an urgent message from the Canadian Consulate." Taking the envelope from inside his tunic, Fraser held it out.
        Welsh took the envelope from Fraser and spoke quickly into the phone still in his hand. "Hold on just a moment, please." Then he motioned Fraser closer. Confused, Fraser stepped closer to the desk and bent down slightly. "Constable, I'm in the middle of a very important phone call and will not be able to give this my concentrated attention at this time." Welsh was practically whispering.
        "I see. Would you like me to...wait?"
        The phone on Welsh's shoulder emitted a curious sound, rather like a sigh followed by a trill. "Har-deeeing, are you still there?"
        Fraser looked at the Lieutenant, whose ruddy face grew redder as he motioned Fraser to the door. "Yes, Fraser. I would like you to wait. Out there. Right now. I'll find you when I need you."
        "Ah, of course. I'll just..wait then."
        "Thank you."
        "You are welcome, sir, and may I say..."
        "No, you may not, Constable. You may leave."
        "Understood."
        Fraser left the office and stood somewhat uncertainly by the door. Lunch would seem to be in order, but he felt somewhat restrained by the 'urgent' nature of the message. Perhaps he should remain available.
        "If you're waiting to see Welsh, I think he's gone to lunch."
        Fraser turned to see Ray Kowalski standing nearby with a file folder in his hand.
        "Ah, Detective Kowalski. It's good to see you again."
        "Yeah, hi. Fraser, right? You look a little better this time." Ray grinned. "But I think Welsh has headed out to eat. You just missed him."
        "Actually he is...otherwise engaged and asked me to find a place to wait. Out here." Fraser glanced around the squad room.
        Ray grinned even more broadly. "Oh, a Fifi call. That may take a while. You're welcome to wait at my desk, if you want. I'm about to go to lunch myself."
        "Thank you kindly." They moved to Ray's desk. Fraser studied him as they walked, attempting to accustom himself to this new Ray. This Ray moved with a grace the old Ray did not possess. He walked up on the balls of his feet, lightly, responsively, as if he was ready at any time to suddenly change direction.
        At the desk, Ray dropped the folder on the flat surface and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. "There you go."
        Fraser took the chair that was offered and watched as Ray slid into his jacket and patted the pocket for his keys.
        "Oops, hang on a sec." Suddenly, Ray was in Fraser's space, practically in his lap, opening the desk drawer and pawing around inside. The scent of Ray's hair, his leather jacket and a smell that could only be Ray himself surrounded Fraser and he found himself closing his eyes as he breathed it in. "Hey, you okay? Not gonna pass out on me again, are you?" Fraser opened his eyes and saw this new Ray staring at him in some consternation, his keys dangling from his hand.
        Caught. Caught in a state of arousal he had no control over, an arousal that surprised him with its intensity, an arousal he desperately wanted to deny, Fraser felt the heat climbing his face. He took refuge in babble. "No, no, uh, meditating actually. The Inuit believe that if a long wait is necessary, as is often the case during the hunt, one can take refuge in meditation and use the time to calm oneself internally in order to better face the challenges that lie ahead."
        Ray looked unfazed by an explanation that would have had the other Ray in a tizzy. "Yeah, whatever. You look hungry to me. You want to go get something to eat with me?"
        Fraser stared in astonishment. "Yes."
        "Greatness. Come on." And, that quickly, Ray was up out of his space and waiting impatiently for Fraser to follow. Lieutenant Welsh's door opened with rather more force than was usual. "Constable? Detective? A moment, please?"
        Fraser stood and started toward the Lieutenant's office automatically, Ray following.
         Lieutenant Welsh returned to his seat. The envelope of the Urgent Message lay ripped open on the desk in front of him. He held a piece of paper with a relatively small amount of writing on it in his hand. The phone was still off the hook. Fraser stood at attention and waited for the requested reply.
        "Constable?" he said, his eyes still on the paper in front of him. "Are you aware of the contents of this message?"
        "Not precisely, sir. No. However, if I may venture a guess..."
        "Venture away, Constable."
        "It is my guess, sir, that Inspector Thatcher has written to request that I be allowed to resume my liaison duties with the Chicago Police Department."
        "It says, and I quote, Constable, `Give this man something to do before I kill him and cause an international incident," Welsh said in a long-suffering voice.
        "Ah." Fraser shuffled his feet. "I was, in essence, correct."
        "In essence." Welsh stood and went to his office door. "Kowalski, you and the Mountie. Consider yourselves partners. He'll help you with Vecchio's pending and you'll keep his name out of the papers as a murder victim. Any questions? No? Good. Now get out of here."
        "Thank you kindly, Lieutenant." Welsh just shook his head and pointed at the door, already picking up the phone.
        "The things I do for international peace..." Fraser heard Welsh mutter as he closed the door.
        "Ah."So, Fraser. You and me, partners."
        "Right you are, Ray."
         "So, let's go to lunch. We'll see how this is gonna work." Ray's gaze went to Dief. "That dog go everywhere with you? He okay in cars?"
        "Yes, Ray. His name is Diefenbaker and, actually, he's a wolf. Well. Part wolf. That's not important right now. If you like, I can recommend a diner where he is welcome, or he can simply wait outside." Dief protested. "Nonsense. It's not at all cold out. For God's sake, remember your origin." Fraser spoke to Dief, as always, forgetting that this Ray would not be accustomed to such behavior.
        "Ah."Yeah, all right. Anything sounds good to me," Ray said casually, seemingly taking Fraser's conversation with Dief in stride. He smiled at Fraser, apparently a little embarrassed. "Forgot to eat this morning. Just ran out of time."
        "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Ray. Perhaps you should have some easy breakfasts already prepared the evening before. It only takes an extra minute to be healthy."
        "You always like this?" Ray led the way out of the squad room presumably to where his car was parked.
        "Like what?"
        "All like a public service announcement?" They were walking through the precinct halls now, close together, almost shoulder to shoulder.
        Again, Fraser was aware of Ray's scent, which made it difficult to keep up with his part of the conversation. He paused, scratched his eyebrow and then said, "More or less. It's probably a reaction to stress."
        "So I'm stressing you?"
        "There is a certain element of stress involved when meeting someone new ..."
        "Good."
        "Good?"
        "Yeah. Means you like me, you want me to like you. We'll go to lunch, we'll see."
        Fraser felt somewhat off-balance. His natural reserve was being totally steamrolled by this man who didn't seem to know about polite distances or keeping somebody at arm's length. "See what?" he managed.
        "See if we can be friends, Fraser."
        "Friends?"
        Ray made a considering motion with his head, halfway between a nod and shrug. "Odds are good." He turned and winked. "If I'm stressing you already, I think we're halfway there."
        Fraser nodded once, nonplussed, and stopped talking.
        In the parking lot, Ray led the way to a green Ford Explorer. He opened the passenger side first for Fraser and Dief. Fraser let Dief in the back and got in himself. The car's interior was somewhat...cluttered, a fact that Fraser registered immediately upon entering. The scope and theme of the clutter took him aback. Still struggling with this unlooked for revelation about his new partner, Fraser sat unseeing in the front seat, his mind whirling. Almost absently, he reached beneath himself to extract a small, furry, brightly colored stuffed ...monster possessed of a large nose and round staring eyes. Bemused, he stared back at it.
        Ray got in on his side, glanced over at Fraser, grinned and started the car. "You want me to leave you two alone?"
        When Fraser looked at him, he winked. Fraser reddened but asked, "How old are your children?"
        Ray shifted in his seat, put his arm along the seat to look over his shoulder to back up the car then glanced at Fraser again. His grin was still there but his eyes had gone challenging. Fraser shifted to more fully face him feeling an answering bristle.
        "They all say you're so good. You know, deductive reasoning and all. So, you tell me. You got a carful of clues here. Put 'em all together."
        "Is this a test?" Fraser raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.
        "Ooh. Is that fear?" Ray waved his arm in a gesture that indicated Fraser's defensive posture.
        "Certainly not." Fraser's tone was exasperated but his heart was racing. He had missed this--the give and take of conversation complete with the elements of confrontation and challenge. There was a new element here as well, one that he wasn't quite sure he wanted to define, but it had the effect of making his heart race and his breathing shorten. He sucked in a breath and began.
        "First, the evidence would seem to indicate that you have two children. There are two car seats in the back seat and while theoretically there is enough room between the two for a third older child to sit on the seat there is no other evidence among the toys and paraphernalia to support that one actually does.
        "Your eldest child is most likely a girl, due to the plethora of those kinds of toys most commonly associated with girls--Barbies, small horses, small items covered with pictures of rainbows--surrounding and adjacent to the larger booster car seat directly behind me. The booster seat itself would suggest that your daughter is no less than forty pounds, which would be too small for such a seat, and no more than eighty pounds, which would make her too large for such a seat. Judging from the indentation that the car seat has left on the seat of the car, and the indentation in the car seat left by the, uh, seat of your daughter, I would place her weight at forty-eight to fifty pounds.
        "As for her age, her size would seem to indicate a four to five year old child. However, taking into account the complexity of the storybooks around the seat and," Fraser ran his eyes over Ray assessingly, "your own lithe rather than bulky physique, I would guess her age is closer to six years.
        "Your second child is somewhat younger. Due to the fact that his car seat is forward-facing rather than rear-facing, I would say he is over the age of one and weighs more than twenty pounds. The toys around his car seat are not the rattles and chewy toys one normally associates with a child who is teething, so I assume that he has all his teeth. The preponderance of trucks, dinosaurs and small cars, some with small moving parts, all indicate a male child of slightly more than three years.
        "Am I correct?" Fraser ended with a note in his voice even he knew was challenging.
        Ray just smiled a breath-taking face-illuminating smile that did strange things to Fraser's stomach. "Boy, they weren't kidding, were they? That's it in a nutshell. Katie is six and Stevie's three and you, you're something else. That how you think all the time?"
        "Essentially, yes." Fraser felt his face turn red and ran his finger under his collar. This simple but obviously heartfelt admiration was new to him. The previous Ray had had respect for Fraser's ability to categorize and process information but had found it profoundly irritating at the same time. This Ray's reactions disarmed him.
        "Me, I don't think like that--you know all see-all-the-little-pieces and put-together-the-puzzle-all-at-once. Usually, I can't find all the little pieces. But sometimes," Ray appeared to be thinking hard, "sometimes I can see only a few pieces and know what the whole picture's gonna be."
        "How so?"
        "Well." Ray shifted uncomfortably. "Say you only have five or six pieces of a puzzle that has twenty-five. Sometimes, I can look at the five or six and know what the whole puzzle's going to look like. But you? I'd bet you'd have an idea or two, but you wouldn't rest until you found all twenty-five pieces and had it all put together, right?"
        Fraser rubbed his eyebrow, and said, "Well..."
        "I'm not saying," Ray broke in "that it would take you any longer, it might not because from what I've seen and heard about you, you're really good at finding and putting all the pieces together, but what I'm saying is sometimes I'll go ahead and make a leap to the whole picture just on the basis of the five or six."
        "That sounds very...courageous, but somewhat...risky. How do you know you're right?"
        "I'm not always. But I'll almost always make the leap. And I'm almost always right. For instance, I already know a lot about you."
        "Oh?" Fraser raised his eyebrows and looked askance at Ray, annoyed at the other man's presumption.
        "Yeah."
        Fraser waited, but Ray didn't say anything more. Finally Fraser couldn't stand it. "And what is it you think you know about me?"
        "Knew you'd ask me that. Knew you couldn't just leave it alone." Ray grinned.
        "Wasn't that your intention?" Fraser asked peevishly.
        "A'course. And you went for it."
        "Are you saying I can't resist a challenge?"
        "I'm saying, show you a mountain, you'll climb it. Show you a criminal, you'll track him down and make him pay. I bet you haven't met many challenges you haven't bested, and if you didn't I'm betting you still beat yourself up over it at night.
        "You're smart, you're good looking, you're a good person, pure and true of heart and all that, and I bet you get stuck in that perfect image all the time. People wanna put you in a box on the mantle and watch you appreciate or something."
        Fraser sat frozen, hardly breathing.
        Ray went on without pausing. "But, you're not perfect and I know something you're not good at." Ray glanced over at Fraser and then back to the traffic.
        Fraser sat, pressed against the door, unable to move.
        "You're not good at people, Fraser. Making connections is hard for you."
        "What makes you think that?" Fraser asked quietly.
        "Well, I don't have all the pieces yet but one piece I do have is the wolf." Dief leaned in and licked Ray's ear. Ray batted him away. "This wolf goes everywhere with you, you said it yourself. You talk to him which is bad enough, but you even bicker with him like you're married or something. And I know you think he's talking back. I bet there've been times in your life that he's been the only other person--sorry, Dief--you talk to in a non-job related manner. That wolf's not just a wolf, he's you. And you talking to him is you talking to yourself. He's like a whaddyacallit, a similar."
        "A familiar?"
        "Yeah, whatever, an animal or something that you put yourself into. It's like looking in the mirror and talking to yourself. And if you have to do that, you don't have a lot of other people to talk to.
        "Another piece I got is how you reacted when you heard Vecchio had gone undercover without you, without telling you straight. He's your partner for two years, you hung out and did things and I'm guessing you made a real connection there. But, then, poof! he's gone. Anybody'd be pissed and someone like you who doesn't make many connections you think you'd be even more pissed. But you? You hear the news and it rocks you, almost makes you pass out right there in the 27th. Then five minutes later you ram some kind of stick up your" quick glance "uh, back and you're off and gone, business as usual. Which tells me two things: 1) You didn't like it that Vecchio went but B) for some reason, you must have expected it. I may be wrong, but I don't think you can go from shock to acceptance that fast unless you expected the shock all along."
        "I have no response to that."
        "Way off base or too close to home?"
        Fraser rubbed his eyebrow and pulled at his tunic. "Rather too close to home, I believe. That's certainly a formidable talent. "
        "But see, that's good. We complement each other. We're a, whadyacallit, a duet. Logic and Instinct. We go good together."
         "I find it a little unsettling." Indeed, Fraser felt more than unsettled, he felt shaken, even rearranged.
         "Yeah, you would. We're connecting, you're not used to that. But that's partners. You know me, I know you. That way we can depend on each other." He looked over at Fraser and grinned. "Take a deep breath. It'll get easier."
        "It will?" Fraser was shocked at the plaintive note in his voice.
        "Yeah, I get easier to take the longer you know me. Right now, I'm hungry and we're here. This diner the one you meant?"
        "Yes. How did you...?"
        Ray just grinned. "Instinct, what else?"
        
        
        
        Over lunch, Fraser asked Ray to tell him about Katie and Stevie.
        "Careful, there, Fraser. Next thing you know, I'll be bringing out the baby pictures." Ray grinned at him over his grilled cheese sandwich.
        "I'd love to see them."
        "Freak. You would." But Fraser could tell by his pink face and the speed with which he produced a wallet full of photographs that Ray was indeed pleased. While Ray finished eating, Fraser flipped through picture after picture of two children who bore a remarkable resemblance to their father
        "They are handsome children." He indicated a picture of a blonde woman placed in the first sleeve. "Their mother...?"
        Ray's face became a study in lack of expression. "Died. Two years ago. Drunk driver. "
        "I'm very sorry, Ray." Fraser could feel Ray's pain like a third person at the table.
        "Yeah. Me, too." Ray played with his drinking glass running his fingers through the condensation. "Mostly for the kids. I mean, I'd known her since we were kids, but they won't remember her."
        "But at least they have you and in time, you can share your memories of her with them." Fraser's voice was low and intense. "When my mother died, my father became remote. Unreachable, almost. It was...difficult...to bear the loss of both parents at once. Fortunately, I had my grandparents, but it wasn't really the same."
        Ray looked directly into Fraser's eyes. "So you know lonely."
        Fraser found he could not look away, nor could he prevaricate. "Yes, but you already knew that. "
        "Benton Fraser, I think we could be friends. If you want." Ray put his hand on Fraser's forearm.
        "I'd like that, Ray Kowalski."
        "Greatness. It's a done deal." Ray squeezed his arm and then broke the connection to signal for the check. "My treat today, you catch it next time, okay?"
        "Right you are, Ray." Inside his chest, Fraser's heart lifted and the gloom that had enveloped him since Ray Vecchio's departure began to dissipate.

        On Saturday morning, a few days following Fraser's reassignment to the 27th, Fraser and Dief went to the park. Ostensibly, they went for exercise, although the fact that Constable Turnbull had arrived at the Consulate with a brand new camera had also factored into the decision. After an hour of posing for pictures, Fraser had had enough. Fortunately, Inspector Thatcher had chosen that moment to come by for a forgotten file and Fraser had taken advantage of Turnbull's distraction with a new subject to escape.
         As the hour was still quite early, they had the park mostly to themselves. Picking up a suitable stick, Fraser threw it. To his surprise, Dief raced after it. He returned triumphantly holding the stick in his mouth and tossing it gently.
        "Ah, so you've found it. And without a donut? I'm impressed." Fraser took the stick and threw it again. Dief ran off after it.
        "It won't help if you don't think about it, you know."
        Fraser whirled around to see his father sitting on a nearby bench. "Ah, good morning to you too, Dad."
        "You know what I mean."
        "Actually, I have no idea what you mean, but as I am somewhat accustomed to that, I'm not unduly concerned." Fraser threw the stick again, appreciating the rhythm of the game.
        "The Yank, son, what about the Yank?"
        "What about him?" Dief brought the stick back and Fraser threw it again.
        "You obviously have some sort of feelings for him."
        "Of course I do, Dad. He's my partner, we get along well. I enjoy working with him."
        "I know."
        Fraser looked quickly over at his father and threw the stick again, grunting with effort. "What's that mean?"
        "Nothing, son. Simple acknowledgement that you enjoy the Yank."
        Fraser cut his eyes back to the figure sitting on the bench, but his father met his gaze serenely. "Yes, well, of course. We're partners, and his energy and insightfulness, while somewhat alarming at times, complement my own strengths rather well."
        "And he smells good, too."
        "Yes." Fraser answered without thinking, then heard himself and flushed. He grabbed the stick rather more roughly than necessary and threw it again. "Which is completely irrelevant."
        "Ahh."
        "What's that mean?"
        "Oh, nothing. Cute dog."
        Fraser stared at him. He was somewhat used to his father's apparent non-sequiturs but this one seemed totally out of left field. He looked at Dief sitting next to his father on the bench to see if he had some idea what his father might mean. Wait...
        "Hey, thanks for exercising Napoleon. He should sleep for a week now." A cheerful jogger with reddened cheeks came up out of nowhere and put out his hand.
        Speechless, Fraser shook the hand and braced himself before he looked down. A black and tan dachshund with a stick in his mouth smiled up at him, wiggling happily. "You're, uh, welcome," he managed finally.
        The man whistled and ran off and the dog dropped the stick and scurried after.
        Fraser sighed and dropped his head down. Taking the few steps necessary he dropped down on the bench where his father had been sitting. Dief whined a question.
        "No, I'm fine. Thank you for asking."
        Another interrogative sound.
        "No, I do not think a soft pretzel with mustard will solve anything."
        A wolf-sound indicating a flat statement.
        "Yes, I'm aware that you do, sadly. That still doesn't mean we're going to get one. That's just the way it goes sometimes." Dief let out a gusty sigh and dropped his head onto his paws. "And if you're going to sulk, we might as well go back."
        
        Over the next few weeks, it became apparent that he and Ray were indeed a duet. Their partnership seemed to work. Their strengths were complementary. At times they seemed at odds but they generally managed to work together rather than against themselves. One case stood out in Fraser's mind in particular.
        Angela Simmons, age seven, had been raped and murdered, her body found in a refuse-filled vacant lot miles away from her Gold Coast home. Her parents were understandably devastated. The evidence was sketchy, the press demanding.
        Ray was a man possessed. Charged with finding the malfeasant, who had committed this crime, he became engulfed by it. The light that was so much a part of him was little in evidence during the two weeks he and Fraser worked the case. Seven days into it, Ray made a breakthrough. While interviewing the teenage brother again about his activities the day the girl had disappeared, he mentioned a friend, someone named Scott Davenport, who had always liked Angela and would really miss her. As Fraser watched, Ray's body went completely still. With seeming casualness, he fished for more information regarding this Scott Davenport. They learned that Scott was a computer nerd, very familiar with programming, and was fond of setting up elaborate computerized security systems around his basement bedroom. Although he had a crush on an older cheerleader, Scott did not date and was not considered attractive.
        Ray had thanked the boy politely and escorted him out of the interview room. When he returned, he was positively vibrating. "Fraser. This is it. He's the guy."
        "The brother?" said Fraser, stalling for time. He knew who Ray meant, but hoped to hold off the headlong rush to arrest he was afraid would follow next.
        "No, no, the geek, the computer nerd, this Scott Davenport. He did it. I know it. I know he did." Ray's eyes shone now, but with an eerie, obsessed light unfamiliar to Fraser.
        "I agree he is certainly worthy of further investigation."
        "He did it, Fraser. I'm sure of it. I say we go pick him up, let me at 'em."
        "Ray, we need more information. We can't just..."
        "Fraser, look, I got my five or six pieces. I can see how the whole thing went down."
        "I know you think so, but..."
        "You don't believe me." Ray's voice was flat.
        Fraser sighed and rubbed his eyebrow, very aware of the observation window and the opportunity for any and all of this conversation to be overheard. "Come on." He moved to the door. Ray remained standing in the middle of the room. "Ray, please. I can't talk about this here."
        Ray clamped his mouth shut and clenched his fists but followed him. Fraser led the way to the supply room, pushed Ray in, and closed and locked the door. The dark surrounded them. Moving carefully, he nevertheless ran directly into Ray's stiff and unyielding form standing under the light. In the jumble of limbs that followed, Fraser reached out and grabbed Ray by the elbows to keep them both from falling.
        Keeping one hand on Ray, he reached up with the other to turn on the light. The bright light was shocking but almost as disturbing was how close he was standing to Ray. He had forgotten they were much of a height. He breathed in Ray's scent and had a rush of arousal that mimicked the one that had raced through his body almost two months ago at Ray's desk. With great effort, he fought his body's reaction and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. Sublimate, sublimate...
        To his relief, Ray spoke first. "You don't believe me. You don't trust me. Thought we were partners."
        The relief evaporated. "How can you say that? I do trust you. I do believe you. But you know as well as I do that we can't just go in there and bring him in with no evidence." Ray stared back silently, but he seemed to be listening. Fraser took in a deep breath and moderated his tone. "But now I ask you to trust me. You have to let me go get the other twenty pieces of the puzzle so we can go pick him up and we can KEEP him. That's my part. That's what I do."
        Ray moved restlessly, turning away from Fraser to stare at the shelves. He sighed. "All right. You're right. Can't have a duet if I don't let you play your part. It's just.." He closed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side, the tendons in his neck standing out. "This is killing me. This whole case. I look at those pictures and I see...Angela,...and Katie...and any of Katie's friends, and it just....tears me up." He folded in on himself, arms around his middle, head down, shoulders hunched in.
        "I know. But we're close." Fraser moved closer to Ray, raised his hand to touch him and then dropped it. "We'll get him and we'll do it so that he never gets away again."
        Abruptly Ray spun in place and sank to the floor, his back against the shelves, his hands over his eyes. Unsure, Fraser waited. When Ray's shoulders started to shake, he lowered himself next to Ray and put his arm around him. Gratifyingly, Ray not only accepted the embrace but also leaned into him. Fraser's heart leaped foolishly (as it was wont to) at the chance to provide comfort to this man who had come to mean so much to him. And so he sat there, holding Ray and unable to sublimate anything at the moment.
        Two days later, they arrested Scott Davenport for suspected murder. The State's Attorney charged him with Murder in the First Degree and allowed no bail to be posted.
        The evening of the arrest, Ray and Fraser celebrated with a quick dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant. After Ray had driven off to home and children, Fraser and Dief walked back to Consulate slowly. As they passed by the park, Fraser hesitated—it was getting late-- but entered. While Dief investigated nearby bushes, Fraser sat on the bench where his father had appeared just a few weeks ago. Remembering the dachshund for whom he thrown the stick, Fraser felt himself blush and laughed ruefully. He'd had it bad, as Ray would say. He rubbed the back of his neck. The trouble was, he still had it bad.
        He stood up and called and motioned for Dief. Ray was his friend. A good friend, a great partner. He was lucky to have Ray in his life at all. Lucky that fate had seen fit to give him a partner with whom he could work and on whom he could depend. He was foolish and greedy to want more. Dief ambled up and they headed back to the Consulate.
        "Hey, Fraser. What are you doing this weekend?" It was five o'clock on a Monday and after an afternoon of paperwork, both men were more than ready to go home.
        "I have no particular plans, Ray. Dief and I usually spend a great deal of time out of doors on the weekends, if there are no consular duties."
        "Would you like to come over and help me build a swing set? The kids have wanted one forever. They helped me pick a design this weekend, I got one a'those Do-It-Yourself Kits and we went yesterday to buy the lumber. The guy'll deliver it by Friday. I might be able to do it myself, but it would be a lot easier with some help. You could bring Dief and he could play with the kids in the yard. Give them something to do, too, besides get underfoot. I'll spring for pizza after or we'll clean up and take the kids out somewhere nice, if you want."
        "I'd be happy to help, Ray." Fraser let some of the happiness he felt at being asked show in his smile.
        "Okay, great, greatness." Ray smiled back unreservedly, then his look turned thoughtful. "Uh, you might wanna bring some work clothes and some clothes to change into after, it's supposed to be hot on Saturday."
        "Very well. I'll see what I can come up with."
        "Do, do you have shorts, Fraser?" Ray asked as if he expected the answer to be no. Which it was.
        "No, actually," Fraser rubbed his fingers over his eyebrow. "I do not."
        "Hmmm..." Ray grabbed his jacket and slid it on. "If you've got an old pair of jeans or something you could cut them off and make shorts."
        "An excellent idea, Ray. I'll certainly see what I can do."
        "'Cause, you know, I'd lend you some of mine, but they'd never fit you."
        Fraser's eyes dropped involuntarily to Ray's hips and he felt heat in his face. "Most likely not, Ray. Are you ready?"
        "Yeah, come on, I'll drop you at the consulate."
        Saturday morning dawned bright and hot. Fraser stood outside the front door of the Kowalski residence and shifted nervously. Was it too early? His new partner did not strike him as a morning person, judging from observed behavior, yet in Fraser's admittedly limited experience, children were early risers. Fraser raised his hand to knock, then lowered it again, turned around and studied the horizon.
        Dief whined a question from where he lay on the stoop.
        "Yes, I plan on knocking. I am merely attempting to ascertain if the hour is too early. Perhaps another quick walk around the block."
        Dief whuffed a negative and put his head down on his outstretched paws.
        "Don't use that tone with me. You could use another walk. In fact..."
        "Does he talk back?" The new voice was high pitched and Fraser whirled around to see a small child with blonde hair and blue eyes that looked remarkably familiar. She was wearing a white and pink nightie with a picture of a unicorn.
        "Yes, actually, although much of what he says is not worth listening to. You must be Katie." Fraser squatted in front of the child and put out his hand for her to take.
        The child held his hand in her own. "Katie Kowalski. Actually, Kathryn Marie Kowalski. But everyone calls me Katie."
        "It's very nice to meet you, Kathryn Marie Kowalski. I'm Benton Fraser."
        "What do people call you?" Katie tilted her head and studied him.
        "Most people call me Fraser."
        "Why?"
        For some reason, Fraser felt his face get red. "I'm....not really sure, Katie. I imagine that's what they're comfortable saying."
        "My daddy calls me Katie. No one calls me Kowalski." The yuck! look on her face indicated what she might think if anyone did. Then her expression turned thoughtful. "What does your daddy call you?"
        "He calls...called me Benton. He died two years ago."
        "My mommy died. A drunk driver crashed into her car and killed her." The child's face lost all expression and the words were mechanical.
        "I'm very sorry. My mother died when I was very young. I missed her very much."
        "I miss my mom, too. But I have Daddy and Mrs. Bryan. Who do you have?" Her blue eyes, so much like Ray's, studied him from under her bangs.
        Fraser stared at her for a moment. Then he said, "I have Diefenbaker. Or, strictly speaking, I believe he has me." Pleased at the mention, Dief rose from his supine position and joined them at the door.
        "He's pretty!" squealed Katie. She grabbed Dief around the neck and hugged him. Dief patiently submitted to the hug and allowed her to pet him. She laughed delightedly when Dief licked her face, which brought footsteps in the foyer.
        Ray's face appeared around the door. "Katie Kowalski! What have I told you about opening the front door without checking with a grown-up? Come inside right now."
        Katie leaped up and entered the house, talking all the way. Ray backed up, pulling the door with him and out of her way. "But Daddy, you said look for the man with the hat and when I looked out, there he was! And he was talking to his wolf, just like you said. So I knew it was the right one!"
        Ray held up his hand. "Wait, hold on there. I will talk to you in one minute. Stand there." He pointed at the front hall and then turned back to Fraser and motioned him in. "Hiya, Fraser. Thanks for coming. Come on in."
        Clutching his hat, Fraser stepped over the threshold and into Ray's home. Diefenbaker followed, then went further into the house, sniffing curiously. Ray closed the door and the reason he had been using it as a shield became clear. He wore nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.
        Ray saw where Fraser was looking and flushed. "Yeah, sorry about this, but it's standard early morning wear around here. Let me handle this serious breach of security, here," he pointed at the door and Katie, standing motionless in the corner, "and then I'll go get decent."
        Fraser waved his hand. "Please, Ray. Be comfortable. It's your own home."
        "Actually, it's getting a little drafty anyway, Fraser. Head down the hall and turn right to find the kitchen. I got some muffins and the coffee pot's on so help yourself."
        "Yes, I'll just go check to see if Dief has left anything for me."
        As Fraser turned and escaped the close confines of the foyer, he heard Ray say "Okay, young lady, just what is the rule about opening doors in this house?"
        Fraser entered a large living area. Absently, he noted details. A sliding glass door showed a good-sized backyard with a raised concrete porch where a wading pool sat filled with water. Over the fireplace was a portrait of Ray and the children. Judging by Katie's appearance, it had been taken fairly recently. On the mantelpiece under the family portrait were two pictures, one of Katie and one of a little boy, undoubtedly Ray's son. The furniture looked comfortable with generously upholstered oversized cushions. The well-used coffee table was large and square and obviously had been used for coloring both with crayons and markers. Next to the TV was a cabinet filled with what appeared to be the entire Walt Disney collection of animated movies. He turned right and found the kitchen.
        In the kitchen, Fraser indeed found a plateful of what appeared to be homemade muffins as well as a pot of coffee still under the coffeemaker. Dief lay on the rug under the table sniffing at the muffins and looking hopeful. Fraser ignored him and the coffee but took a muffin and sat down at the table. In a moment, Ray breezed in and started fussing with his coffee.
        Evidently he had not yet found time to change or add clothing. Fraser found his eyes lingering on curves he had not previously noticed on Ray before. His heartbeat sped up noticeably. He admonished himself for staring, but was unable to stop until a small sound near the doorway made him jerk his eyes away, flushing.
        Standing at the kitchen archway was a miniature version of Ray Kowalski, complete with hair that stuck out in every direction. The child sidled silently into the kitchen, his finger in his mouth, staring at Fraser, and went to lean against his father's leg. Fraser watched as Ray absently put his hand on the boy's head and ruffled his hair. Finished preparing his coffee, he squatted and gathered the boy in his arms, kissed him and picked him up. "Good morning, Stevie. Didja sleep good?"
        The boy nodded and put his head down on Ray's shoulder. Ray carried him to the table along with his coffee and sat down with the boy in his lap. "Slide me those muffins, Fraser?"
        Fraser did so and Ray took one and broke it into pieces, put the pieces on a napkin and placed it near his son, then took one for himself.
        "The muffins are very good, Ray."
        "Yeah, thanks, Fraser. I can really do a box mix like nobody's business."
        "You must have been up early?"
        "Nah, you know me better than that. I made `em last night. Figured you'd be early." Ray grinned around his mouthful and winked.
        Fraser opened his mouth and closed it, feeling his cheeks turning red. "It would appear you were right."
        "Yeah, I am about some things." He looked down at the boy in his lap. "Stevie, you doin' all right? You wanna sit in your own chair now?" The boy shook his head. Ray looked back at Fraser. "Might take him a minute here. He's like me when it comes to mornings."
        "I have a certain amount of experience with that." Fraser took another muffin. "Did the lumber get delivered?"
        "Yeah, it's out back with the kit and my tools and the instructions. I hope we can finish today."
        "If not, I can come back tomorrow, if you need me." Ray showed no sign of hearing Fraser since his head was bent down to listen to something that Stevie was saying in a whisper.
        "What? Say that again." Ray listened again. "Oh." He looked up to meet Fraser's eyes. "He wants to know your name. I told him already but he's forgotten now that he's face to face with you. Speaking of which, what do you want them to call you? Mr. Fraser?"
        Fraser shook his head in automatic denial. He'd never thought of himself as Mr. Fraser, if anyone was Mr. Fraser, it had been his grandfather. "They can call me Fraser," he answered slowly, almost...reluctantly.
        "His name is Benton. That's what we should call him. That's what his daddy called him." Katie, dressed now in shorts and a shirt that almost matched, twirled into the kitchen and sat in the chair next to Fraser's.
        "Katie, Fraser can choose. He might not want you to call him Benton," Ray admonished her.
        "No, that's fine," Fraser said quickly. "Actually, I think I'd like it. It's been a long time since anyone has called me that." He stopped himself talking by main force, afraid of revealing too much to this perceptive child or to her father.
        Ray gave Fraser an odd look. "Okay, Benton it is. Now, time for action. Katie, finish your breakfast and then go brush your teeth. Fraser, you make sure Dief gets a muffin, then go put your feet up in the family room, we'll be with you soon. Stevie, you come with me and we'll get dressed, then it's time to work on the swing set." The children cheered.

        Fraser stood in the Kowalski family room staring out the sliding glass door waiting for Ray and his children to finish getting ready. Ray and his children. Fraser shook his head. He'd known Ray had children, but somehow he hadn't quite imagined what that really meant. This morning he'd found out it meant rules and sleepwear and breakfast and brushing teeth and love and care and...family. Ray had a family. And being here this morning, he'd realized that the Ray he saw at work was an incomplete Ray. His persona at work was not the real Ray at all. The real Ray was here in this house with his children. At home.
        Ray Vecchio had had a home. Fraser leaned his head on the glass of the sliding door and felt a grin tugging at his lips. A warm and caring home. And a loud one, full of several emotional, opinionated and expressive adults who despite their yelling and insults cared deeply for one another in a way Fraser had never experienced. Ray and his family had attempted to take Fraser in, to make him one of their own, but his natural reserve had remained intact. The grin faded. Despite the allure, he had resisted becoming a part of that family. The opportunity was there, through Francesca, through Ray. Brother-in-law or brother, he could have become a part of Ray Vecchio's family, but still, he had resisted. He just wouldn't have...fit. The Vecchio family had no place for a misplaced Canadian with a deaf half-wolf and a penchant for doing things his own way. And he could not have learned to live the Vecchio way.
        Home and family were almost foreign concepts to Fraser now. He'd had a home once, and a family, but both had been taken away the day his mother had died. His father had taken himself away, physically and emotionally. His grandparents had provided a place to live and eat and sleep but they, too, were remote--due to age, to unrealized expectations, to natural reserve. He had not been unhappy. Well, not precisely.
        But he had been marked by his upbringing. Deep down he expected people to leave. This new Ray had figured that out about him in a matter of minutes. Ray Vecchio's departure had shaken him, but like Ray Kowalski had said, it hadn't actually surprised him. The people in his life...left and he remained. Alone.
        At the sound of approaching feet, Fraser straightened. He felt his face assume a neutral, probably pleasant expression. Yet an undercurrent of longing, previously unnoticed but centered somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, remained.
***
        Ray slapped his hands together and surveyed the situation. Okay, Katie dressed--clothes didn't match, but she did it herself, so he was going to go with it. Stevie--dressed, almost finished in the bathroom, and anxious to see the white doggy. Ray--dressed, shaved, but not showered since he was just going to get all sweaty anyway. "Okay, we're good to go."
        He leaned back against the bathroom door waiting for Stevie to finish up. From there he could see Fraser in the living room looking out the sliding glass door. Actually, Ray realized, he was leaning against the glass door. Ray found that peculiar. Normally you could balance a book on Fraser's head. The oddness of Fraser's posture made Ray look harder at his face.
        Lonely. Fraser looked lonely. Standing alone in his living room, staring out at his back yard, Fraser seemed almost.... haunted. Snatches of conversation floated back to him. "So you know lonely," he'd said in the diner.
        And Fraser had answered, "Yes, but you already knew that."
        Ray'd been thinking about what that meant to him, Ray, that this new friend would be able to understand the feeling that Ray had carried around with him for the past two years. What he hadn't really thought about was the fact that Fraser must carry that same loss, the same loneliness inside. That Fraser knew lonely because he *was* lonely.
        Katie's voice echoed in his head. "I've got Daddy and Mrs. Bryan. Who have you got?" Fraser's silence echoed louder.
        Katie burst out of the bedroom and Stevie came out of the bathroom at the same time in search of their new friend Benton and his cool white wolf. Ray stood still and watched Fraser straighten up, put on his game face. Ray shook his head and followed the children after throwing their pjs in the hamper.
        "Okay, Fraser. We're all set. You ready to go? Dief, did he give you a muffin?" Dief barked a yes, but Ray hardly heard since he was caught by Fraser's expression. Pleasant and open, he looked perfectly normal, but, now that he was looking for them, Ray could see the lines of strain around Fraser's eyes.
        "All set, Ray." Fraser looked up at him blandly.
        "All right, then. Kids, find your backyard shoes and put them on and we're out the door." Katie and Stevie grabbed their shoes from the shoe stand by the back door and sat on the floor to put them on. Ray moved to the door, unlocked the bar and the slide lock and slid it open. As Fraser passed through, Ray asked, "You okay, Fraser?"
        Fraser paused in the doorway and looked at him. "Yes, Ray. I'm looking forward to the day." His voice was even and unconcerned, but Ray still saw that haunted look around Fraser's eyes.
        "Great. Greatness, Frase. Me, too," was all he said though. He'd keep his eyes open for the next piece of the Fraser puzzle.
        The day had grown warmer already and Ray took a minute to check that the wading pool was still mostly clean. The kids would need to cool off later.
        Dief and the children bounded out the door and Fraser unearthed a tennis ball from somewhere for the children to throw for him. Then he came to look at the lumber and kit.
        "So, Fraser. Does this look like something we can handle?"
        "Together, Ray, I think we can handle anything."
        "That's probably true," Ray agreed.
        Four and a half hours later, neither Ray nor Fraser was so sure they could handle anything, together or apart, ever again. First, the temperature had risen to an unseasonably hot 90 degrees. Second, Dief jumped the backyard fence into an alley full of trashcans, causing mild hysteria among the children and concern in their father who wondered what the neighbors might say or do with a wolf running loose in the neighborhood. The fact that he came back twenty minutes later looking extremely pleased with himself and licking his lips didn't help the situation. Then Katie had pushed Stevie down after a property dispute involving the now well-used and extremely slimy tennis ball. Then Stevie had bitten his older sister in retaliation. Ray's stock of patience was almost exhausted and even Fraser was showing the strain.
        Finally, Dief had rolled in something so smelly that even he took offense at it and jumped into the wading pool to wash it off. Unfortunately, Stevie and Katie, having just made friends again, had been playing quietly in the pool at the time. The resulting cacophony was enough to make Ray, who had been holding the top beam of the swing set at an essential angle for Fraser to bolt it into place into the A-brace, turn to see what had happened and, in doing so, drop the top beam directly onto Fraser's foot.
        "RAY!"
        "All right, that's it. Everyone take a time out." Ray stalked over to the pool, took both children out, gestured to Dief to vacate the premises, and escorted his children indoors. Once inside, he helped each one into dry clothes, made sure each one used the bathroom, installed Stevie on the couch with his pillow and security blanket, Katie in the big chair with her doll, and gave each a drink box , a cheese stick, and six crackers. Then he put their favorite Disney movie into the VCR. "Now, sit, stay and don't move until I come to get you." For the moment, both seemed content to do as he said. Having settled them to his satisfaction, he filled a Ziploc bag full of ice, grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and a beer for himself and went out to check on Fraser.

***


        With a sigh, Fraser extracted his foot from beneath the beam and decided the solitary life might actually have some benefits. He smiled ruefully and sat down on the patio with his back against the house.
        Ray came out the patio door, and dropped down next to him. "How you doing, Frase? I'm sorry about your foot." He held out the bag of ice and the bottled water like peace offerings.
        Fraser took both gratefully. "Thank you, Ray. I'm sure my foot will be fine and I appreciate the water." He opened the water and drained half of it. "It's hot." He leaned forward to place the ice bag on his foot.
        "You got that right." Ray lunged up again and stripped off his shirt before sitting back down. He opened his beer and surveyed the unfinished swing set morosely. "Doesn't look like we're going to get it done."
        Fraser, who had been finishing his water, shook his head and made noises. He swallowed and said, "Actually, Ray, much of the hard work has been done. The braces are assembled, the slide platform is built and the various bolts and hooks have been pounded into the top beam. Once we attach the top beam to the braces, we can stand it up and you'll see how close we are."
        "All right, pitter patter then. I figure we got about an hour and a half before Laurel and Hardy in there start their routine again."
        "Right you are, Ray." Fraser stood up and swayed. Ray caught him by the arm.
        "Hey, hey. What's wrong?" Ray continued to hold him.
        Fraser waited a moment until the world stopped spinning and then said. "I must have gotten up too fast."
        "Uh, huh? And you're hot as blazes. I forget you're not used to this heat. Let's quit for the day. We can finish another time." Ray tugged Fraser toward the door to go inside.
        "Ray." Ray continued to pull at him. "Ray." No sign of change. "RAY!" Fraser finally raised his voice in exasperation.
        "What, Fraser? You're sick."
        "I am not. I'm fine. I simply rose from a supine position to a standing one at too great a speed and my inner ear did not have time to adjust."
        "Yeah, what's that mean?"
        "I stood up too fast and I got dizzy, Ray."
        "So you're okay, now?"
        "Yes, Ray." Ray's concern for him was evident and it made Fraser feel warm inside.
        "So, okay, but uh, get your shirt off. I don't want you passing out on me or anything, I'd never get you inside."
        "Good point, Ray." Fraser took off his T-shirt and tucked it into the back pocket of his cut-offs. "Shall we finish?"
        "Yeah, let's get at `er."
        This time the work went much more smoothly. Within the hour, the top beam was attached to the supports and the whole structure was standing.
        "Have you given some thought to where you want this, Ray?"
        "Yeah, Fraser." Ray moved backwards a few feet to stand in a shady area that was clearly visible from the sliding glass door.
        "Ah. Good idea. I think we should move it there now, before we add any more weight."
        "Good thinking, Fraser." Ray moved to one end of the structure and Fraser stood at the other. "On three?"
        "On three, Ray."
        "One," said Ray.
        "Two." Fraser bent his knees and braced himself and Ray followed suit.
        "Three," they both said, and lifted at the same time. Moving carefully, they inched over the grass to the selected area.
        "Oooooof," Fraser grunted as they set it down.
        "Wow! Thanks, Fraser! It's looking good now." Ray grinned at him with all the stops out, obviously thrilled and wanting to share that with Fraser.
        Fraser smiled back just as broadly. "Not too much left, Ray. Might I suggest we attach the slide now and then let the children help us with the smaller swings?"
        "Good idea. I'll get it." He was back very quickly, obviously re-energized by the near completion of the project.
        The slide proved tricky, however. Fraser found he could not both hold and attach the slide at the same time. After three unsuccessful attempts with Ray outside and Fraser under the slide platform, they were both getting frustrated again. Finally Ray suggested a possible solution.
        "Look, Fraser, let me get under there with you. Then I should be able to hold it so the holes line up."
        "There's hardly enough room for me, Ray." Fraser held the top of the platform and leaned against his arms.
        "Yeah, yeah, I know. But we can do it. Come on." The hopeful look in his eyes was impossible to say no to.
        "All right."
        Ray slid in and stood behind Fraser. He reached around him and held the slide on either side and with a wrench was able to line up the holes on the slide with those on the platform. His arms shook with effort, but he managed to hold it steady. Fraser moved to place the bolts in position. Ray's chest was slick and hot against his back and their combined scent was extremely powerful in the small space yet not unpleasant. Fraser was disconcerted. He knew he should be moving faster but part of him wanted to slow everything down and stay here in the moment, in this place with Ray's arms around him.
        Shockingly, he felt Ray nuzzle his hair. Surprised, he half-turned to meet Ray's eyes.
        "Sorry about that." Ray's face was red with heat and/or embarrassment. "You know how it is. You get your hands full and suddenly your nose starts to ...." His voice trailed off and he stopped. Time seemed to stand still.
        "Starts to what?" Fraser's voice was hardly above a whisper.
        "Itch," Ray finished.
        "Oh," said Fraser, wondering what they were talking about. Their smell and Ray's eyes and the feel of Ray's sweaty skin sliding against his own was.... disconcerting.
        "So, you think you could..."
        "Could what, Ray?" Fraser felt very strange.
        ".......maybe finish up here? My arms aren't going to last much longer."
        "Oh. Right you are." Fraser whipped back around, slid the last of the screws in and tightened the bolts as much as possible. "All right, let go and let's see if it holds."
        It did. The two men climbed out and surveyed their handiwork. "Great! It looks great! Let's call the kids!" Ray's smile was breathtaking and contagious.
        With the help of the children, they attached the swings and the gymnastic rings and Ray and Fraser put up the family swing. After a test run, they all went inside and Ray ordered pizza. After dinner, he promised, they would have hot fudge sundaes to celebrate. When Fraser opened his mouth to comment on the lack of nutritional value in such a meal, Ray quelled him by the simple expedient of putting a piece of pizza in it. Distracted by the unfamiliar but surprisingly tasty flavor of pineapple on pizza, Fraser forgot what he was going to say.
        Finally, darkness and silence descended on the back yard. Fraser sat in a swing and looked up at the stars. He heard the sliding glass door open.
        "Are they in bed?" Fraser asked quietly.
        Ray sat on the swing next to him facing the opposite way. "Yeah. Asleep, actually. They were pretty excited but as soon as heads hit pillows...snore."
        Fraser smiled. "They had a busy day."
        "Yeah. Us, too."
        "You have a wonderful children."
        "Thank you." Ray ducked his head and watched his feet push his swing around in circles, always in motion, even at rest. "They're everything to me."
        "You're a good father."
        Ray snorted. "Not always. I try to do my best, but I can't be everything to them."
        "They know you love them. You show it in everything you do and that's the most important thing any parent can do, I think." Fraser's voice shook, despite his efforts to keep it steady. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ray look up alertly, but Fraser refused to meet that penetrating gaze. Instead, he leaned back against the chains and stared up at the stars.
        "So, Fraser." Now Ray studied the stars, too. "Didja ever have a swing set?"
        "No. The conditions weren't...feasible."
        "What conditions?"
        "Any, but primarily weather conditions."
        "Hmm." Ray twisted in his swing, making himself bump into Fraser then move away.
        "What does that mean?" Fraser twisted in turn and they bumped together again.
        "Nothing, Fraser. Just an expression I've picked up." They tangled together and ricocheted off again.
        "Ah."
        "Yeah, like that one." Ray reached out and grabbed the chain of Fraser's swing, hooking his arm through and making them swing in tandem. "Fraser?"
        "Yes, Ray?"
        "Can I call you Benton?" Ray waited silently but Fraser could feel he was been watched. Finally, he looked up and met Ray's eyes.
        "If you want to." In the dim light from the porch and the stars and the moon, Fraser could see Ray studying him intently. Fraser wondered if he was able to discern the sudden knife-like joy Fraser was experiencing at his request.
        "I was thinking maybe, around here, I could. Like the kids. If you want to come again, that is." Ray's face reddened and his eyes dropped, as if he was embarrassed.
        Ah. Fraser hooked his arm through the chain on Ray's swing and pushed off with his feet so they swung together more securely. "I'd like to come again." He allowed himself to look into Ray's eyes and let a little of his happiness show. Gratifyingly, the insecurity in his eyes faded and Ray smiled brilliantly back.
        "Okay, then. How 'bout we check this baby out?"
         Fraser unhooked his arm and used his feet to push himself off. "What kind of test Ray?"
        "Strength and durability. Any swing set that can hold the weight of two men swinging in opposite directions should be safe enough for a couple of kids, I imagine." Ray let go and pushed off too.
        "Actually, Ray, we should both go the same direction then. Three hundred fifty pounds plus acceleration would provide a substantial pull on the set, but as we are going opposite directions what we're primarily testing is—"
        "Fraser." Ray pumped his legs faster going higher.
        "Yes, Ray?" Fraser pulled back on the chains to increase his height and speed.
        "Shut up?"
        "Understood."
        

***

        Later, at the consulate, Fraser showered, moving slowly, ridding himself of the grime of the day. Getting out, he put on clean boxers and a T-shirt, deciding that the September air did not warrant a change to the red long johns just yet. The red long johns reminded him of Stevie, yawning in his sleeper pajamas with feet and leaning on his father's leg. The image of Ray with his hand on Stevie's head warmed him somehow.
        Fraser yawned just thinking about them and lay in his bed, sleepy but not sleeping yet. Dief, who had been asleep under the desk for the hour preceding Fraser's own move toward bed, crawled out from beneath it and shook himself before settling down again on the floor near Fraser. Hearing him, Fraser shook his head over Dief's earlier foray into the pool and his subsequent water-spraying shake, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. The remembered smell of wet wolf triggered a different scent memory of Ray's sweat mingled with his own under the slide. He inhaled deeply as if to recapture it.
        More memories of the day drifted in, as Fraser slid closer to sleep. The shock of hearing small voices calling him Benton still rang in his ears. It had been so long since anyone called him that, only his father for years, and him not often. Benton. Fraser wasn't sure he knew who Benton was anymore. He'd existed for so long as Fraser it had almost become comfortable. Almost. But not quite. A name that served for Constable Benton Fraser, but not a name he wanted Ray's children to call him. So...Benton it was. Perhaps he was looking back for some half-remembered intimacy. Looking ahead for some increased intimacy, Benton thought, hardly awake.. Ray's voice, "You're not good with people, Fraser." Making connections. Ray's scent mingled with his own. Slick heat against his back. Ray.

***

        "Hello, Canadian Consulate."
        "Hiya, Frase. It's me."
        "Ray! It's good to hear from you."
        "Yeah, thanks, Frase. Hey, just wanted to tell you I won't be able to liaise this afternoon."
        "Has something come up?"
        "Yeah, Mrs. Bryan had to go outta town suddenly. Her daughter in Wisconsin broke her leg, and Mrs. B. has to go take care a'her and the grandkids. She won't be able to pick up Stevie and Katie today, so I'm takin' the afternoon off."
        "Aren't you supposed to be interviewing witnesses in the Darnell case this afternoon?"
        "Yeah, but Welsh'll just have to deal. I got kids, what can he say?"
        "I'd be happy to pick up the children and stay with them until you finish. I had the afternoon free to liaise, and I'd like to help if you think the children would be comfortable with me."
        "Go liaise with them, huh?"
        "If you think it would be suitable."
        "Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Fraser. I'll call the school. You'd better come by and get the car first. Stevie's seat is in it."
        "Right you are, Ray. What time do I get him?"
        "1:00, then Katie at 2:45. I'll write down how to get to their schools and have it for you. Stevie'll need lunch. He gets a snack at preschool, but he'll need to eat when you get him home."
        "Right. It's 11:45 now and I am off duty at noon exactly. I'll see you shortly, Ray."
        "Yeah, Frase. I'll be here."
        Fraser put down the phone and finished up the Form 183 oblique stroke D form still pending on his desk and then walked briskly down the hall to the Inspector's office to place it in her in basket. That finished, he returned to his office and changed quickly out of his uniform into jeans and a t-shirt. He put on his leather jacket and motioned to Dief. "Diefenbaker. Let's go see Ray."
        Diefenbaker looked up from his place on the bed, and yawned ostentatiously.
        "Dief. Diefenbaker. For God's sake, look at me when I'm talking to you. You can't still be mad about the doughnut," Fraser said in exasperation as the wolf put his head back down on the cot and turned away from him, stating plainly that he clearly could. Fraser hung his head down and sighed with exasperation. Dief glanced up to see how he was taking it. Fraser continued. "All right. Have it your way. I'll just simply have to tell Stevie and Katie that you were sulking and too bull-headed to join us this afternoon." Without looking at Dief, Fraser turned and strode out of the room. He was not altogether surprised to hear the click of Dief's toenails behind him.
        At the station house, Fraser and Dief walked through the ever-present melee with the ease of long practice and made their way without incident to Ray's desk. Ray was on the phone when they arrived, so Dief went looking for Francesca. Fraser stood in his customary place, waiting, and listening once he determined that he was being discussed.
        "Yeah, Benton Fraser. Ben-TON. B-e-n-t-o-n. Fraser. F-r-a-s-e-r. No, not like the guy on TV. FRAY-ZER. He'll have I.D." Ray waited again, listening. "Umm, he's tall, about five eleven, dark hair, blue eyes and he'll be wearing a Stetson." There was a pause, during which Ray waved, pointed at the receiver and then rolled his eyes at Fraser. "A Stetson, kinda a flat cowboy hat. Stevie will know who he is. Yes. Please ask Mrs. Barrow to tell him that Benton is coming. Okay. Okay. Okay, are we good? Greatness." The phone landed back in the cradle with a clatter. "Okay, Fraser. We're good with the school. They're expecting you." He scrabbled at the papers on his desk.
        Fraser cleared his throat. "Six feet tall, Ray."
        Ray looked up, clearly having gone on in his thoughts to the point where Fraser's statement made absolutely no sense. "Whaddya talking about, Frase?"
        "Me. I'm six feet tall." Fraser shifted on his feet feeling slightly ridiculous, yet determined to maintain accuracy.
        Ray's hands stilled on the papers and his body stopped moving. "You are not."
        "Yes, I am. I assure you. They measure my height every year at the annual physical and every year it's 183 centimetres, which corresponds most closely to your measurement of six feet."
        "Most closely? That's American for Not Quite, Fraser. And that means you are not quite six feet tall." Ray pointed his fingers at Fraser. "And I can prove it."
        "I seriously doubt that, Ray. This is not a medical office, I see no calibrated height measurement device." Fraser swept his hands in a circle taking in the whole of the room. Unless, perhaps, you'd like to adjourn to the morgue. I imagine Mort..."
        "No, Fraser," Ray interrupted quickly. "I mean me. I'm your laminated height stick."
        "Calibrated, Ray." Fraser successfully controlled the twitching of his mouth.
        "Whatever, Fraser. I'm five foot ten and a half inches and we can measure you against me." With that statement, Ray straightened and was around the desk far too quickly for Fraser's comfort.
        "Ray, that's hardly an accurate measure..."
        "Sure it is, Fraser." Ray pushed himself into Fraser's space, and stood directly in front of him, taking up all the room, all the air it seemed to Fraser who was suddenly having a difficult time keeping his breathing even close to normal. He was suddenly reminded of being beneath the slide platform. He shrank back fractionally. "Hey, what's up with that? You just got shorter for some reason. Stand up straight, Fraser." Ray was nothing if not observant, especially at this range, and Fraser put the starch back in his spine and straightened himself, standing at attention.
        Rather than staring at some unspecified spot on the horizon, however, Fraser found himself staring at Ray's forehead, or rather his hair. Or, more specifically at how Ray's hair grew out and up from his head. It was thick. And it looked soft. Fraser had to repress a strong compulsion to feel Ray's hair tangled in his fingers as he tilted Ray's head back to press his mouth...
        "FRA-SER. Yo!"
        Against his will, Fraser started and jerked himself back to his surroundings. "I'm sorry, Ray, I'm afraid I was woolgathering."
        "Yeah, I kinda got that. Now pay attention." Ray's voice seemed casual but Fraser noticed that Ray's eyes weren't quite meeting his anymore, and as he watched, Ray bounced up on his toes and back down again.
        "Yes, of course. What did you say?"
        "I said, check it out. You're only a little taller than me. I don't call that six feet, no matter what they call it in Canadian."
        Fraser looked. Ray's eyes were almost on level with his own. Their noses were a scant centimetre apart and their mouths...Against his better judgment, Fraser's gaze dropped to Ray's mouth, then he tore it away to meet Ray's eyes again. But Ray wasn't looking back at him. Ray was looking at Fraser's mouth. Ray's breathing had gotten louder in the small space that separated them. Fraser watched as Ray's tongue moved restlessly over his mouth and he wet his own lips in response. His heart rate sped up until he could feel it pounding in his ears. This was madness, they were in the middle of the squad room..... Just then he overheard Huey saying something to his partner.
        "What's up with Kowalski and the Mountie?"
        "Staring contest," Dewey said.
        "I'll take the Mountie," Fraser heard Huey say, then his voice faded away.
        His eyes still locked on Ray's face, Fraser cleared his throat and then said, "Perhaps you are taller than you think."
         Ray shook his head briefly (in denial?) and backed up a bit. "I...don't think I'm growing, Fraser. Maybe you're shrinking."
        "I find that hard to believe, Ray. But... sometimes it is difficult to see oneself clearly."
        "Yeah, well you got that right." Ray backed up and away and the moment was broken. Fraser looked down then up and let out a gusty sigh. The bustle and noise of the squad room which had receded completely, came back in a flash and the din seemed deafening. And Ray? Ray was back behind his desk, removed and detached and proceeding as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had.

***

        Safe behind his desk, Ray shuffled papers to hide his shaking hands. FuckFuckFuckFuck. What was UP with him? Dumb question, he knew what was up. WHY was it up? That was the question. What was going on in his brain that just being in the Mountie's space, giving him the business suddenly made him want to....actually give him the business?
        Pushing those thoughts aside, Ray forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. Fraser--his partner, his best friend--needed keys and information to take care of his children. Thinking about Katie and Stevie cooled Ray's jets and allowed him to reach the state of almost-normal that was normal for him. "Okay, Fraser. These are the directions to Stevie's preschool. It's not too far from the house, go there first and then follow these directions to the church."
        "I'm sure I can find it, Ray."
        "Yeah, I'm sure, too, Fraser. But listen. Once you get to the church, do not turn into the first entrance. Keep going and then take the second driveway and get into the carpool line. If you go in the wrong way, all hell's gonna break loose."
        "At a preschool? Surely not, Ray." Fraser's voice was incredulous.
        "You don't know anything, Fraser. These people are serious about their carpool lines. Here." Ray scrabbled in the kids' school file and handed Fraser a photocopied sheet of paper. On it was a diagram of a church and arrows indicating the proper flow of traffic. "Study this BEFORE you go to the church."
        "Ah, I see. Well, I'll be certain to acquaint myself with it then." Ray could hear a patronizing tone in Fraser's voice.
        "I'm serious, Fraser. Don't make me look like an idiot." Ray glared at Fraser.
        "I'd never do that, Ray." Fraser looked steadily back and Ray felt warm, hot and bothered all at the same time. This was crazy. Think, Ray, what else?
        "Okay. Stevie'll need to eat lunch and take a nap once you get him home. Make sure he has bobby."
        "Brady? Bonilla?"
        "Blanket, Fraser. Stevie's bobby is his blanket."
        "Ahh. What about Katie?"
        "Yeah, she'll get off the bus at 2:45. Meet her at the bus stop. Go out the front door, turn left and wait on the corner. She'll get off there. She'll need a snack. No sugar, Fraser. Just cheese or apple slices or something. See what we've got in the fridge. Then she'll need to do her homework. Read to you or math or something. Okay. I think that's it. Anything else you need to know?"
        Fraser hesitated, then said. "No, I don't think so. We'll call you if there is a problem."
        "OK, cool. Here are the keys." Ray put his hands in his pockets searching for his keys. They weren't there. "Hey, Fraser. You seen my..." Ray stopped because Fraser wasn't looking at his face. Fraser was looking at his crotch, right where the material was pulled tight. "...keys?" Ray finished faintly, jerking his hands out of his pockets. Fraser's head snapped up and his hand reached out. Ray felt his eyebrows climb up his forehead in shock and...anticipation? He sucked in his breath and waited, ...and then Fraser's hand reached its destination. Keys. Right. They were on the desk. Okay. Okay. Get a grip, Ray. He sat down in his chair with a thud and dropped his head to his hand.
        "Ray, are you all right?"
        "Yeah, Frase. It's just a....headache." Go on, Fraser. Ask me which head.
        "Can I get you anything, before I go?"
        "No, thanks, Fraser. I'll be fine." Ray sighed but looked up to say good-bye. "Thanks again, Fraser. I really appreciate it."
        "My pleasure, Ray." Fraser smiled that little smile that lit up his eyes. Ray couldn't help but smile back.
        "I'll see you later, then. I should be home around six. Maybe six-thirty."
        "Right you are. We'll see you then." Fraser collected Dief and left.
        Ray watched him go then dropped his head on the desk and began pounding it. He'd moved around the desk to compare his height to Fraser's fully intending to turn around and do it back to back, but then Fraser had breathed in funny and moved back nervously and something in Ray had twitched. Some bad angel sitting on his shoulder had wanted to make Fraser nervous. So, he'd stayed face to face just to see the Mountie squirm. He'd called him on backing off and told him to stand up straight. Which he had. He'd rammed that stick back up his ass and stood straight up into Ray's own space.
        He'd hoped to make Fraser uncomfortable, but hadn't counted on how he'd feel himself. It had been a while. That's all. Except for the kids, he didn't really get that close to anyone. He'd pointed out to Fraser that they were about the same height, when he'd realized that Fraser hadn't been paying attention. He'd been looking somewhere above Ray's forehead and his eyes had looked sort of....hungry. For some reason, this had made Ray's heartbeat speed up so he'd called Fraser on the whole not paying attention thing, but the speeded up blood was zinging through his arteries by then and he couldn't have stayed still if his life had depended on it.
        Then, while Fraser looked him over, he'd caught himself looking at Fraser's mouth. He hadn't actually paid much attention to it before, but once he'd gotten all up close and personal with it, he'd found he couldn't look away. Red lips, fuller than they looked from a polite distance. Ray had wondered if they were as soft as they looked. His own mouth had dried out and when he'd licked it, Fraser's tongue mirrored his. It had been too much. Too many feelings he hadn't known what to do with washed over him and he'd backed away. Backed up, backed off and gotten back behind the desk. And he still hadn't been safe.
        "Detective? Perhaps you'd care to join us?" Welsh's voice, politeness veiling a solid core of sarcasm, invited him back to reality. Ray took the invitation and scrambled for Interview One.
        At seven-thirty, a tired Ray Kowalski unlocked the door of his house, waved at the patrolman he'd hitched a ride with and entered the foyer. The afternoon had been grueling. One of the "witnesses" in the Darnell case had turned into a suspect and the rigmarole necessary to re-interview all the other witnesses with regard to this new information had taken more time than he wanted. But, he sighed hanging his jacket on the coat tree behind the door, he was home now.
        "Katie? Stevie? Fraser? I'm home." Ray checked out the messy but empty kitchen and the equally empty family room as he passed them and continued on down the hall to his room. Once in his room, he could hear the sounds of conversation and splashing water in the kids' bathroom.
        Smiling at the idea of Fraser giving someone a bath, he quickly shed his shoulder holster and emptied his gun. The gun went in the locked box on the shelf in the back of his closet and the bullets went in the locked box in his top dresser drawer. He shucked his jeans and slid into his sweats.
        Comfortable now, he left his room and opened the door to the kids' bathroom. Stevie was in the tub, intent on some elaborate deployment of his fleet of floating boat bath toys. Kneeling on the rug, hands in the water, just as intent, was Fraser.
        Grinning, he said, "Hi, guys!"
        Both looked up, startled at having their game interrupted. Fraser recovered first, and smiled. "Hi, Ray! Were you able to get anywhere with the Darnell case? I left you a plate. "
        "Yeah? Thanks and I'll tell you all about it later." When Fraser started to get up, Ray waved him back down. "No, no, I didn't mean to stop the game, I'll just go check in with Katie. Hiya, Stevie."
        "Hi, Daddy. Benton and me's playing a game." Stevie's blue eyes narrowed, as if he thought Ray was going to end the game right then.
        "Yeah, I see that, kiddo. Tell you what, you finish up with Benton here and I'll go say hello to Katie. When I come back it will be time to get out and get your pjs on. Got it?"
        "Got it." Stevie lost interest in his daddy and turned back to Fraser. "Benton, your turn, move that tugboat over there." He pointed to the far corner of the tub.
        "Right you are, Stevie." Fraser complied with the order and moved the tugboat. Ray watched a few more minutes, noting distractedly that the humidity in the small room seemed to be making Fraser's hair curl. Deciding that thoughts like that meant it was time to move on, he pushed himself off the door frame and went to see Katie.
        He found his daughter laying on her bed in her nightie reading a story. Dief lay next to her. "Hiya, Katie!"
        "Daddy!" She looked up and smiled at him before leaping off the bed to run to him and give him a hug.
        "Hi, sweetie. Did you have a good day?" Ray squatted to take his daughter in his arms.
        "Yes, Daddy. Daddy, Benton's here! I didn't know Benton was going to be here today!"
        "Well, we didn't know either, honey. Mrs. Bryan's daughter.."
        "Marjorie."
        "Yeah, uh, Marjorie. Anyway, Marjorie broke her leg and needed Mrs. Bryan to help take care of her children...um..."
        "Denise, Mark and Amy."
        "Yeah, right.
        "Denise is seven, Mark is five and a real handful, and Amy is two."
        "ANYWAY, Mrs. Bryan had to go up there and help out. So, she can't come to us for a while."
        "But, Daddy!" Big eyes. "Who's going to take care of us?"
        "Well, honey, Daddy's working on that."
        "I know. I know. Oh, Daddy, I have got a Really Great Idea."
        "Yeah, and what's that?" Ray gave up the struggle to remain squatting and sat on the floor, pulling his daughter down to sit in his lap.
        "Why don't we ask Benton to take care of us?" Katie rushed on obviously delighted by her Really Great Idea. "Dad, do you know what?" She looked at him with wide, serious eyes.
        "What, snickerdoodle?" Ray smiled at her.
        "He made us macaroni and cheese tonight with REAL CHEESE. I showed him the little packet of orange powder you're s'posed to use, but he said, `It only takes an extra minute to be healthy.'"
        "Yeah, he would." Ray grinned.
        "And then he got out our block of cheese and cut it up really small and mixed it with the noodles. And, Daddy," pause for dramatic effect, "it was good."
        "I'll bet it was, sweetie." Ray hugged her again. "Now, why don't you hop back up in bed, pick out a story for us to read together and I'll go get your brother settled and come back to read it." Ray got up off the floor and picked Katie up and sat her back on her bed then picked up Stevie's pajamas from the top bunk on the other side of the room.
        "Okay. Daddy?"
        Ray paused at the door, turned back. "Yeah, hon?"
        "Are you going to ask Benton?"
        "Let me think about it a little, Katie."
        "Ask me what?" Ray jumped, startled. Fraser was standing in the hall, wiping his arms with a bath towel.
        "Uh, nothing, Fr-Benton, I'll tell you in a minute." Ray felt himself flush, and escaped to the bathroom. Stevie stood on the bath mat, wrapped in a towel. His hair, obviously having been just toweled dry, stuck out in every direction. Ray smiled in spite of himself, and got busy.

***

        Later, after the children were down and asleep, or least giving a good imitation, Fraser and Ray sat in the kitchen. Ray was eating and Fraser was thinking about kitchens. Try as he might, he could not remember his mother's kitchen. His grandmother's came easily to mind. Although there had been several different kitchens as they moved around the Territories, certain constants were maintained. The braided rug under the table. The pictures on the walls. The towel that hung on the oven door, which young Benton had learned at an early age was merely decorative and not to be used to mop up spills or to dry wet hands. And the kitchen table itself. Constant, unchanging. Big, wider than Ray's, and longer, but much the same color--warm, honey brown. He'd sat at that table for meals, for school, for family discussions as he got older. His grandmother kneaded bread on it, deboned chickens on it and canned preserves on it. His grandfather sat reading at it with a cup of hot coffee and a plate of cookies just an arm's length away. In many ways, that table had been home.
        "Good macaroni and cheese, Benton." Startled out of his reverie, Fraser looked up and hesitated before replying to Ray's compliment.
        "Thank you, Ray."
        "Katie was impressed." Ray winked at him over the top of his glass and Fraser smiled and looked down. Ray grinned and continued eating.
        Fraser toyed with the fringe of a placemat and wondered if he should just go ahead and head back....to the consulate. He sighed inwardly, but it was probably time to go. He started to get up, then sat back down remembering something.
        "Did you want to ask me something?" He looked at Ray.
        Ray looked up, as if confused. "Huh?"
        "Earlier in the hall, Katie asked if you were going to ask me something?"
        "Oh, yeah." Ray looked down and toyed with his remaining food. "Well, the thing is this. With Mrs. Bryan gone for who knows how long, I'm going to need some help with the kids."
        "I'll help," Fraser said eagerly and felt his cheeks get red. "I mean, if you were asking for my help."
        "Really?" Ray stared at him a moment and then smiled gratefully. "Really? Okay. Great. Now this week's not too bad, Mrs. Flynn two doors down, she knows the kids and has helped me out before. She can get Stevie any days you or I can't and will keep him and Katie until one of us can get here."
        "I can check my schedule, but I believe I had Wednesday and Thursday afternoon free to liase, so I can certainly get Stevie on those days and stay until you get home. The other days I should be able to complete my responsibilities by four o'clock. Would it help you if I came to get the children then?"
        "Yeah, yeah. That'd be good. Then you could have them home and comfortable and I could bring dinner when I get off."
        "I don't mind cooking, Ray."
        "Well, we can work it out as we go." Ray cleaned his plate and stood to put it in the dishwasher Fraser had loaded with the other dishes. After closing the dishwasher, he turned and leaned against the counter. "Next week gets tricky." His shoulders seemed to tense a little. "Next week, I'm supposed to go on nights. Last time this happened, Mrs. Bryan just came over when I got ready to go to work and stayed with the kids until I got home. The time before that....Stella was still here."
        "Your life has changed a great deal." Fraser stood and moved to stand in front of Ray.
        "Yeah. Yeah." Ray hesitated for a few moments and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "Yeah. Anyway, is there any way you might be able to stay here with the kids all next week? You could sleep on the sofa bed, or take my room if you want. It'd just be...great, if I knew you were here."
        Fraser realized the gift he was be given. Trust. Ray trusted him to live in his home and to care for his children. He reached out and put his hand on Ray's shoulder. "I'd be honored to." He smiled into Ray's eyes.
        Ray took a deep breath and said, "Thanks, Benton. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."
        "It's my pleasure, Ray. It's nice to have something...to do." Fraser pulled his hand away and turned back to the table.
        "Yeah, beats picking up the Ice Queen's dry cleaning, huh?"
        "Really, Ray," Fraser chided, but didn't meet Ray's eyes. "Well, Dief and I will be off then. I assume then, that you would like me to pick up the children tomorrow at Mrs. Flynn's?"
        "Yeah. That'd be great."
        "So I shall, then." Fraser motioned to Dief and moved to the foyer to collect his hat and jacket. Ray moved with him. At the door, Fraser turned to say good-bye.
        "Good night, Ray. I'll see you tomorrow."
        "Yeah, good night, Benton." Ray opened the door and held it. "And thanks. You're a good friend. Best I've had in . . . in a while."
        "Ah, well, thank you. I feel the same about you, Ray." Their eyes met and in Ray's, Fraser saw the same affection and warmth he felt sure his own conveyed. And, deeper, a question. There was a question in Ray's eyes that Fraser had just recently begun to ask himself. A question about friendship and love and what happened when friendship became more. But it was a question that wasn't going to get answered tonight. Fraser jammed his hat on his head, nodded at Ray, and stepped outside, leaving Ray's home for the solitude of the night.
        Fraser's pace moved him steadily forward, but his thoughts ran in increasingly convoluted circles. Ray. Stevie. Katie. Himself. Dief. Pieces of two puzzles. In one, the puzzle showed Ray, Katie and Stevie. Incomplete, perhaps, leaving room for a new wife and mother. The other showed himself and Dief. This, too, was incomplete, but the edges of the pieces were getting torn and worn and weren't easily fit to any other pieces.
        How did they all fit together? Ray had said he did not make connections well, yet here he was connecting. With Stevie, who loved boats and adventure and wanted to sail off to find buried treasure. With Katie, who seemed to see right through him to his buried heart and to love what she saw there.
        With Ray. His partner, his best friend, fitting with him in a way that even Ray Vecchio had not. Instinct and Logic. Melody and Harmony. A duet. Without warning, he was assailed by a memory of their combined scent under the slide, a musky odor which, when combined with the remembrance of the hot, sweaty slide of Ray's skin on his own, served to make him hard in seconds. Walking became difficult. So did denial.
        But try as he might, he could not make the pieces into one picture instead of two.
        
        

***

        
         Fraser moved in on Sunday evening. Of course, being Fraser, moving in didn't involve much more than bringing two uniforms and a duffel bag. The kids were beside themselves with joy. Later, working together with Fraser who seemed to know his way around a bedtime routine, Ray had to admit that having another adult in the house was something he had missed.
        Sitting on Stevie's bed rubbing his back, part of their nightly ritual just before sleep, Ray watched Fraser and Katie on her bed.
        "See, this is my September journal," Katie said.
        "Do you write in it every day?"
        "Yeah. I draw a picture and then write underneath it."
        "And this is...."
        "That's a pile of leaves, and that's me and Stevie jumping in them."
        "I can see that. I like the colors of the leaves."
  &nbs