Disclaimer: Copyright to Alliance.
Author's Notes: Thanx for the responses I have received while writing in this WIP! I admit I have not written anything for a while, let alone something this in depth. Taking this into consideration, if I make mistakes, BIG or ~small~ let me know and please be patient! Feedback is welcome.
Story Notes: I use tons of spoilers all the time!
This story is a sequel to: "Lame Trust"
http://www.squidge.org/dsa/archive/5/nosense.html
The sharp, cold wind now included freezing rain.

"Good God all mighty! Shit!" James exclaimed as the three men made their way out of the station. Ray winced at the loud cursing, even though he too wanted to scream at the ice pellets assaulting them.

They made it to the Riv, only to have Vecchio's distaste for the weather become his second concern. "Who the Hell parked this damned Beemer so freakin' close to my car!? I swear I'll kill them!"

Sure enough, the classic car was boxed between a hulking, black SUV, and a new, silver, convertible BMW. It was wedged in as close as physics would allow to the Italian's prized possession.

"I remember the SUV from when we first got here," said Fraser, "indicating silver BMW had to arrive recently."

Vecchio was practically stamping his feet. "Those arrogant, filthy rich, rude owners of such stuffy vehicles should be shot! Oh man, this is going to take forever to wiggle out of."

"Actually, about fifteen minutes." James piped in cheerfully. When Ray looked at him in question, his friend slowly, mischievously smiled and said, "But I do agree with you, Ray. Beemer owners are sooooo haughty." With that, Pace pulled out a little remote and turned off the alarm on his car, the silver BMW.

Again, Vecchio had to recover his jaw from flapping in the breeze. "This is your car?! I can't believe it! It's beautiful! Gorgeous, even! Man, when you said you made it, you weren't kidding!"

"Ah, it's not that big of a deal." James replied, dismissive. "I only put a couple of grand down on it. And do you know I had to wait ten whole minutes for this parking space? Just so I could drive you looney? You should be happy I went through all that trouble for you!"

"You parked like this on purpose?!" Ray snapped.

"Well, of course! I saw the Riv and just about started dancing. That meant you were still here."

The declaration was warming and Ray couldn't help but laugh and punch James in the arm. "You idiot!"

"Oh, oh, oh, you want some of this, huh?! Do ya'!? Do ya'?!" Pace playfully started taking shots at Vecchio, creating a mock dispute. Ray grinned, reluctantly batting at the feeble attack, then gave in and began circling his friend in a silly strategy of defense. It was starting to look like something out of a Three Stooges skit, when Vecchio heard a startled Fraser calling him.

"Ray? Ray!"

"What? Oh sorry, Benny. You see the trouble this guy can get a person into? Come on, we have some work to do." he said, indicating the cars.

It took less time than estimated to get the vehicles out and they were on their way to a restaurant not far from the precinct. Ray couldn't keep the smile off his face at James' immature antics. It was great to see the man was still goofy after all this time! Vecchio wished he could feel a little more of that innocent joy. Not that Fraser hadn't restored his faith in humanity or that Benny didn't give him hope. And the Detective admitted Pace could be rather embarrassing, yet the same could be said for the Mountie. It was just great to know someone who was inclined to make a person act as immature as they are!

"Cheers, gentlemen!"

The glasses clink between the three men. James sipped at the beer, his brow crinkling. Ray looked over at the Mountie, who appeared okay, just quiet, taking in the scenario around him. It was typical for the Constable to become reserved as such, so the Italian did not feel uncomfortable with his partner's subdued mood. Just as with any gathering at the Vecchio home, Ben would remain mostly silent. Although Ben had opened up more as of late, actively engaging others in conversation, asking about recent events and the like. Then again, Ray reminded himself, most would be spellbound by the Canadian, even if he was blathering about caribou droppings.

Vecchio was glad the restaurant wasn't too busy and they were able to order quickly. Still full from breakfast, the Detective ordered just some soup, while Fraser requested tea. Pace, on the other hand, got a mushroom burger with Swiss, fries, as well as a tuna sandwich to go. They'd spent the short time together mostly catching up on bits and pieces of the past, which cops had come and gone since James left, which were promoted and who was ousted by Internal Affairs. And those who died in the line of duty.

"I'm sorry about Louis. I remember reading about it in the paper." James said regretfully.

The name was a sad reminder and Ray did not want to go into the details now. "Yeah, I still miss him sometimes."

"I'm...also sorry I didn't come around then, Ray. I still had some thinking to do."

A chill came over Vecchio at the bizarre thought of Pace popping up during that fiasco. "Oh, God, no. Don't...feel bad about that. I know you were still going through stuff."

There was a bit of awkward silence before Fraser inquired, "So...you were a police officer?"

"Yeah. I met Ray, what, nearly eight years ago, wasn't it? When I left, I was line for promotion to Detective, but....that didn't happen."

"Why is that?"

James looked at Ray, his brown eyes whimsical. "Department politics. It was deemed I was not Detective material."

Vecchio grunted his disapproval. "It was all garbage. You had the smarts and the experience. There was no reason for you *not* to have made Detective."

Turning his attention back to Fraser, James said, "I was scheduled to be Ray's partner, but...after my promotion was denied, I decided it was time to take a loonngg break....and do some soul searching, spiritual healing, that kind of thing. I don't regret it. Not then, not now. I still had a lot to learn about police work and-"

"That's garbage, James! You were a great cop. They screwed you over and that's no joke."

Pace didn't buy the clear-cut synopsis. "I...don't know about that, Ray."

"Baloney! That's not true and you know it."

Ray never could understand why James took the insult to his career so lightly. In addition to his years on the Force and his exceptional intelligence, James Pace was a few inches over six feet tall, a hefty 190 lbs, with muscles for days. Vecchio would readily admit he wouldn't want to be in a fight with the overtly masculine man. He'd seen James as a uniformed officer, calm down a highly volatile situation in the most serene manner. But let some punk try to resist arrest! That fool would be expertly, harmlessly, toppled to the ground in a flash, with Pace's knee threatening to snap his spine in half.

James replied, grateful and appeasing. "Well, I know how you feel, Ray, and I appreciate that. Really." He gulped the last of the beer, letting the warm glow show. "Oh yeah, that is so good."

Ray was slightly putt off by his friend consuming alcohol so early in the day.

Fraser's influence, no doubt. the Detective silently concluded.

"Ray, I really would like for you, both of you, to come back to my place so we can discuss the case on the security guard. I have the afternoon off and I would like to get a lot of this out in the open."

The Italian looked at his watch. It was after 2:00 p.m. He really should be getting back to the station for that paperwork. "I don't know, James. I need to clear my desk and-"

A shout of laughter came from the man across from the table, startling both Mountie and investigating cop. Pace could barely hold back his guffawing as he slapped the table. "Oh, man! What the Hell is that crap?!" he said, still chewing the last bite of burger. "*You* wanting to work over slacking a bit? Hey, look at it this way. You won't have to meet with my boss, Mr. Parks, later on, so you'll have more time to finish that stuff then."

But the hazel-eyed Italian was already smiling, his retort caustic. "Justifying to screw around. I gotta' admit, James. You haven't changed a bit."

A wrinkle of the other man's nose was followed by, "If you insist. Now, let's go."

They stood, making their way to the front.

"So where do you live, James?" the Mountie inquired.

"In the city, not far." Pace said, leaving a generous tip.

"Well, that's good. It shouldn't take long to reach." said Ray.

"No, it shouldn't. You know where those lofts were built about a mile from here?"

Oh, yeah!" said Ray. "The renovated factory that now charges a small fortune for the privilege of living in a mini-warehouse."

James chuckled. "Well, it's not that big or that expensive, but yeah, it is a decent place. You guys just follow me."

The revelation of where his friend resided forced Vecchio from blurting out his continual disbelief. It was just another instance of his growing surprise of just all his friend had going for him.

"Actually," stated the Mountie. "Please excuse me. I'm going to make one last stop before we go."

The Constable turned towards the men's room. A minute passed before James said, "So. Benton Fraser. How do you know him?"

The cop bristled. "Keep your tongue in, dear. He's...a Mountie."

Dark amber eyes lit up in shock. "A Mountie?! Did you say a Mountie?! As in red suit, excessively polite and Canadian?!"

"Yeah, that's what I meant. He helps me at work. It's...a long story." That wasn't what Ray was going to say. But telling Pace that he and Fraser were a couple, especially since James believed Ray was still straight, well, this wasn't exactly the time or place. The cop deflected the other man's curiosity by asking, "What, you're not seeing anyone?"

Pace's gaze found the floor. "No, Keith and I quit...being together a couple of years ago."

"Sorry to hear that."

"It's...been different, Ray. We really do need to talk."

The fellow American deeply sighed. "Boy, do we ever."

"Oh yeah, James, this place is nothing compared to the men's shelter downtown."

Vecchio's voice literally echoed as he spoke. Despite his suggestion to the contrary, Pace's place was expansive. It had a living room as big as Fraser's entire apartment. There was an area that had been converted into an open den, with an office desk, computer, file cabinet and small table nearby. The bedroom was straight ahead, looking to be much more compact than the rest of the place. The overall visage of the not-so-humble abode gave it the appearance of a large photography studio, instead of an apartment. The kitchen was huge, with a table, stove, grill and a microwave located above, all in the center of the room. Many cabinets, a sink and big refrigerator lined the farther wall. "Geez! Don't ever let Ma see this. She'd never leave."

"How is your mom?"

Ray continued to survey James' home as he and Fraser removed their coats. "She fine. Getting...a little up there, you know. Can't get around as much as she used to."

"I know that feeling." said Pace, hanging up their coats, then seeing to his own.

Ray said nothing, aware both of James' parents were deceased. Once Pace had come out to his parents, they disowned him and exposed him at the precinct. It was the main belief as to why he was turned down for the advancement to Detective. James was at least able to say his mom had accepted him before she passed away, but his father stayed obstinate until it was too late. It always upset Ray greatly to see the way his friend was treated at that time.

At least I know why I never won any popularity contests back then. he bitterly thought.

"You guys want anything to drink?"

"Nah, I'm fine. You, Fraser?"

"No, thank you." Benny was standing, dutifully holding the case file, prepared to get down to business.

Except Vecchio wasn't ready to give up the talk down memory lane just yet. "I used to live at home for a while."

James was busy putting away his tuna sandwich, then lighting a few candles. He turned on the Bose stereo to play some jazz and adjusted the blinds in the window above the plush, grey sectional couch. Going to the fridge, he fetched a Diet Coke and settled onto the couch, crossing his legs. "Yeah, that's what Frannie said. I ran into her at the station."

Ray's eyes bugged. "So, that's why she was pissed at me! She saw you first! She invited you out, didn't she?"

"No, she tried to get me to invite her out. Poor dear. Sweet girl, but as desperate as they come. Where do you stay now, Ray?"

The Detective didn't miss a beat. "With Fraser."

Pace looked at Vecchio, concern crossing his face. "You mean...you and Angie...aren't...?" He arched his in eyebrows in question, unable to finish.

"Yeah." the Detective nodded. "Ange and I are divorced."

Genuine grief showing now. "Aw, man. I'm sorry, I didn't know. That's really terrible."

"That...was a long time ago, James. It's over now."

"Bullshit, stuff like that is never over! You know that. You wanna talk, anytime, I'm here. Understand?"

"Yes, I hear you."

"I can appreciate your present situation, though. Heck, with what I pay here, I should get a roommate. However, I am tried of that whole scene. The next person who lives with me will share my bed." He flashed a killer grin and Ray couldn't help notice Benny smiling as well. Ray determined the rest of the rest of that information could come later.

After taking a swig of his soda, James said, "Okay, what about this situation at the mall?"

Ray took a seat in the smaller loveseat directly across from Pace. Fraser sat in a big recliner directly to Vecchio's left. It took Ray aback to notice a big television mounted to the wall, about seven feet from the floor, wondering how he could've missed it in the first place.

"What information do you have?" Fraser asked. "Maybe once we know that, we can go from there."

"Good idea. Let's see..." James looked up as he thought. "Well, there's been a total of five thefts. The technique is usually pretty much the same. The perps come in a side door of a store that has a doorway independent of the mall, but not always. It's a team of three, wearing black clothes and ski masks, who blitzkrieg the shop, brandishing firearms. They order everyone down, store personal and shoppers alike. They promise no one will get hurt if they can just take the money and run. So far, there's been no injuries."

He took a sip of pop, then said, "I also know 'Tiffany's' almost had a redheaded stepchild after the last robbery. The main manager comes down to the security office, demanding to see me or Mr. Parks. I show up and she wants to tie my testicles in a knot and nail them to the front door of the store. Not good, not good at all." Ray blinked at the easy rawness of James' words. Pace continued with, "Then there was 'Marshal Field's' top executive. Oh, lord! He practically had an aneurism right on the spot. Truly sad. And 'Nieman Marcus' is threatening to sue if they are targeted again. Sorry, I'm babbling. My point is, if these stores are somehow involved together in the 'crash and grab' schemes, they are faking it quite well. The publicity has been so bad, the attendance is down at the mall, which is something you think they wouldn't want."

"True."said the Mountie. "Unless that would somehow benefit them. Perhaps there is a wish to close down one of their locations and they are creating these attacks as a reason to do so. Are any of them discussing bankruptcy?"

"Don't know. Possible, although that would be a silly way to do it. Unless...hmm. Just thinking. They could get out of their mall contract faster if they could prove the mall owners are not sticking to their original agreement. I'll have to check that out as much as I can."

"Understood."

James toyed with the rim of his Coke can. "So. Ray tells me you're a Mountie."

Fraser lifted his head in mild surprise. "Yes. That is correct."

The Detective caught his lover's gaze and gave him a knowing smile. "That's right, Benny. I told him that, but not everything."

The Canadian nodded once in understanding. "I see."

Too bad Pace was too astute to let the unspoken caution pass unnoticed. "Oooo! I do detect a scandal here! Do tell, please!"

"Well, I came here on the trail of my father's murder..."

"Oh, boy! Fraser, tell him the shortened version or I will hurt you! Now, I am going to get something to drink." Ray announced, heading towards the kitchen. He noted the well-stocked refrigerator, housing everything from a six pack of beer, a few rice dishes, pre-made salads, lots of fruit and lean cuts of meat. James was a damn near health nut, except for the alcohol. The Detective returned to his seat, diet Coke in hand and kind of tuned out the Mountie as Benny broke it down for the other Italian, in a reduced format as instructed, explaining why he came to Chicago and the bittersweet ending, of how he captured Gerard, but was exiled, leaving out the fact Ray and he were an item. Once done, James was nothing but visibly stunned.

"Damn." he stammered. "My life has nothing on you, dear! I am about as exciting as an old floor mat compared to that. You really got Ray to do all that junk?!"

That snapped the Detective awake. "Wha-? Who the Hell do you think you are?" Vecchio glanced around for something to throw, but found nothing.

A small pillow wacked him upside the head as James asked, "You looking for this!?"

Ray threw it back, admonishing, "Oh, do grow up!"

Pace grew ramrod straight in his seat, stupidly pointed his finger in Ray's direction, lisping like a classically effeminate gay man. "If growing up is being like you, then I'm staying a kid forever."

"You do that, 'Peter Pan'."

Regular, deep voice now. "Hey, someone calls you a fairy, tell 'em to suck your wand."

A burst of laughter unexpectedly erupted from Ray, who giggled at the crude humor. He glanced at the Constable who was looking rather lost.

Pace loudly cleared his throat. "Now, come on, let's get this case looked at and out of the way. The Mountie is growing tired of us children."

"Oh, no, no, that is...fine. I just...um..."

"It's okay, Benny. Not getting it is quite all right." Ray reassured.

"Oh, God!" Pace exclaimed. "You gave him a nickname?! I should've known! Benton, Benny. Of course!" James placatingly spread his arms. "Don't worry, man, mine was 'J.P'. It's Vecchio goal in life to assign a personal moniker."

"Yes, I've noticed that. He's even renamed my wolf several times."

Brown eyes bugged. "Wolf ? Did you say you owned a wolf?!"

"Half wolf. You see-"

The last thing the Detective wanted was for them to start comparing Ray Vecchio facts and traits, so he interrupted with, "Fraser? James? The case?"

"Ah, yes, let's continue." said James.

They went on to discuss various possibilities regarding the reasons or other plots behind the thefts at the more expensive outlets James tried to protect. He explained the average wage for an sentry employee of his was a little above minimum wage, an amount that did not inspire a lot of loyalty and work ethic. He told of how the days can be long and full of drudgery, the nights usually a complete bore, yet you have to stay on your toes in case something happens. "In a lot of ways," he said, "I give those a chance who couldn't get work elsewhere. Now given, not everyone is like that, but there are a lot of retired folks on staff, plus a few who've gotten into trouble with the law."

"You hire ex-cons?!" Vecchio snapped.

"It depends. I look at a person's case, see just what they did wrong, how were they on the inside and if they are straight with me, that they're not gonna' try to screw me over, I'll give them a chance. A person needs a way to make it once they get out, Ray. They just don't fade into oblivion. If they do good with me, I give them a positive recommendation for their next place of employment. It ends the cycle of putting them back in jail because they can't function on the outside."

"But that's risky, don't you think?" asked Ray.

"Of course. And I have regretted my decision to help a few of those who said I could trust them. But that hasn't been the case with a majority I've helped. They go on to be productive citizens. That's why I feel so bad about Michael. He was doing so good after his release, only to be shot while going home in some drive-by. Bet the person wasn't even aiming at him."

"So, the security guard who was shot was an ex-prisoner?" Fraser confirmed.

Pace nodded, swallowing the last of his pop. "For drug possession of crack cocaine, released early for good behavior. Model inmate, got his highschool degree, even entered a program to train 'Leaders Dogs for the Blind.' One son, by one girlfriend. If anybody deserved to try to make it again, it was him. His death is a tragic loss. Meanwhile, at the parties my boss has, there's more white powder floating around than at a talcum factory. Do you think he'd get any time behind bars? Bullshit. No white and wealthy man ever will. Michael had the misfortune to be young, poor and black."

Ray hated to ask this, but it was necessary. "James, I know you kinda' liked this guy, but are you sure that maybe he didn't go back to his old ways?"

"It's possible, Ray, but I saw no proof of that. He showed up for work on time, everyday. Been there for some time. Only had one incident of assault while catching a shoplifter, but that was deemed self-defense. Okay, he was a little hung over after a day off, but so am I!"

Vecchio blushed, contritely remembering the few times he and James had come home by cab a little too drunk for his mother's taste. It didn't happen often, but enough to create a fond, if guilty, memory.

"I thought the security firm changed hands not long ago." the Canadian mentioned.

James smiled a tad deviously. "On the surface, yes. Mr. Parks wanted to supervise the mall, instead of just having my name known around town."

"So, you ran the mall before Mr. Parks." Fraser asked.

"That's right."

"Are you...perturbed with Mr. Parks for doing so?" Benny tentatively questioned.

"'Perturbed?'" James echoed in disbelief and amusement. "I'll bet you also use words like 'thrice.'

Vecchio choked trying to hold back his chortling, ashamed at finding the jibe funny. "Sorry, Benny."

There was no malice in James accurate accusation, but he apologized anyway. "Hey, I'm sorry too, Ben. That was rude. And to answer your question, no, I was not against his taking over. Hell, I was glad he got the load off my back."

Fraser quirked his lips a bit and said, "Understood."

The conversation shifted back to the case for a while, when they weren't informing Fraser of times, dates and other interesting events that Ray and James recalled during their association. Finally, after another two hours, Vecchio felt like his head was swelling from all the leads they'd come up with. Out of a long list, all except one or two would be a waste of time. It was his job to make sure he found that special clue or indication that would close the deal. He'd had enough excitement for one day. He was tired and wanted to go home.

"Well, no matter what you say about Fraser being more thrilling, James. Spending time with you is exhausting! I gotta' go before I fall out."

"Not a problem, sport. I'll see you out." James retrieved their coats, walked towards the freight elevator and separated the huge, horizontal doors, the two men following. "Why don't I give you a call in a few days, Ray? Maybe we can go running or something."

"In this weather?! You're nuts!"

That jocular tone hadn't wavered. "Hmm. Never stopped you before. You used to run like a gazelle, leaving me in the dust. What, you've gotten fat and lazy since I went away? I told you your Ma's cooking would make you plump one day. Let me see that tummy!"

Ray watched in horror as the taller Italian ducked lower, heading straight for Vecchio's waistline. Suddenly, the Detective backed off and blurted, "Okay, okay, all ready! Yes, we can go running in a couple of days. Satisfied?"

"Never! See you then, dear!"

The doors slid shut and they were on there way to the lobby. The Italian looked at his partner. There was mild amusement in the Mountie, who was watching Vecchio intently. "Yeah, I know. He's pretty live, I'll give you that. But, it's good to know someone who's just a little crazier than you are. Reminds you a little absurdity isn't a bad thing."

Blue eyes widened a bit, eyebrows raised in question. "What, am I not whimsical enough for you, Ray?"

"Great. Now James teasing me has rubbed off on you!" Ray groused.

"I'm just asking, Ray. I thought our relationship had it's fair share of adventures full of tomfoolery."

"Benny, you're right, but don't take this the wrong way. You're idea of being out of control is putting a scoop of real coffee in with the decaf. Or swinging by our thumbs from the rafters in a building about to be razed.. There is a middle ground, ya' know!"

"Ah, I see. You will have to share some tips with me about James' knowledge of this centered basis. However, I'm not sure I can learn to limit my vocabulary, Ray."

Ray realize the subtle sarcasm and began to laugh again. He had to admit, Benny was the original nutcase in his life!

"I doubt it, Fraser, but maybe we can work on getting you a long, black leather coat."

"Understood."

The Italian sighed deeply as he made his way to the open table near the back of the restaurant. It had been a gruesome week. The belief that crime increases in the summer was being challenged. It was getting colder by the day and yet, the city seemed to be going mad. New cases had been popping up recently, which had him working overtime for most of the last month. The much anticipated arrival of Friday was a blessed event. He would now be able to stay away from the madness at least until Monday at noon. Still wired from all the caffeine he'd had earlier, he determined he'd have a nice lunch, eat a ton, work for a while longer, go home, bathe, then sleep for at least the next three days.

Maybe I'll take a nap in the shower.

Fraser would be joining him for lunch after a while, but Ray was just too tired to wait to order. The Mountie just might find him asleep in the booth at the rate his energy levels were dropping. Vecchio tried to calm his thoughts, but the four new cases that he had just been handed were still running around in his head. It was all laced with a thick coat of guilt. The incident of the murdered security guard had to be put on hold, since none of the leads they'd come up with were panning out. James had brought him lunch yesterday, which was the only bright spot in a very frustrating time. Ray had to tell him the bad news about there being no new suspects or developments. The only good thing was that there hadn't been another robbery at the mall. Plus, the Detective apologized profusely for not being able to get together with his old friend more often. Pace had been back in Ray's life for almost a month and yet, Vecchio had only been able to occasionally spend a few hours at James place after a shift, usually past eight p.m. Ray knew he simply couldn't call the man on his cell phone at some ungodly hour and pop by for a visit.

However, "J.P.", as Ray was starting to call him again, did not mind and still found time to play the occasional practical joke on Vecchio. The fake dog poop under his desk at the precinct was bad enough, especially since Ray bitched and complained about naughty wolves for a good five minutes. The Detective could've sworn Dief was laughing as hard as Pace. In any case, even the grumpy Italian had to giggle at the discount clothing coupons left on his desk for Kmart.

Such pranks were a pickup, a lighthearted reminder to not be so stressed, which these days was the norm. Ray's increasing tempter was unfortunately getting him a reputation. Elaine once even grabbed his snow white handkerchief and taped it to a pencil, waving it as the proverbial white flag. Vecchio could tell he could use a break. He grimaced upon recalling when someone jokingly suggested he needed to spend more time with alone the Mountie to ease all that negative energy. It took all of his willpower to not turn around and pound them into the ground like a spike. Didn't matter that person was his sister. The comment just hit too close to the mark, without Frannie realizing it.

In keeping with bad memories, the distasteful incident that happened the other night was still making him ill. It was around four in the morning when he and Fraser made it home after many hours of playing cops and robbers. Yet, the Italian was scheduled to be back to work by noon the next day. They both ate some warmed up sandwiches, took long, hot showers, then headed for bed. To Vecchio's utter shock, Fraser started to get frisky! The hypnotic warmth of the bed and steamy mood was causing conflicting symptoms in the Detective. He desperately wanted to sleep, but the opportunity to get laid was few and far between, so he was craving that just as much.

It made him angry. The Mountie was designating complete control of how, when and where they would have sex. What was the Detective supposed to do? Make out when he felt like crap? Although it hardly ever was the case, maybe, just maybe, Ray would have something else planned and did not appreciate being pressured to get it on at such a lousy time. Especially since Benny wouldn't ask it from him again for at least another few weeks. Half unconscious, with no energy left to fight, Ray told his lover the biggest white lie ever - that he wasn't in the mood.

The waiter arrived and Ray ordered a diet Coke and the scrumptious chicken wing appetizer with fries they had a reputation for. Union Street Eatery was a great place that catered to the gay clientele where one could get some food, over-priced coffee or something to drink. He searched the menu, thinking perhaps he should start eating a little healthier, seeing he and James were going to eventually go running together and he didn't want to be left panting and sweating like an out of shape slob. At least the exercise would burn off some of the strain and make him sane again.

For now, he was looking forward to this time with Benny before going home to collapse. He estimated his time left at the station for today shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. All he had to do was go over some witness statements and make a few phone calls. The snack came, complete with Ranch dressing for dipping. He bit into one drenched in white cream and looked up as the waiter placed another diet Coke down next to the one he already had.

"From the gentleman at the bar." the waiter said, pointing to the smiling young man with tanned skin, feathered dark hair and dark eyes. He was looking in Vecchio's direction. Ray swallowed the bite whole. He distractedly gulped some soda to wash the lump down, his eyes never leaving the generous stranger. The Italian didn't know this person. He didn't look familiar. Ray certainly did not know anyone that attractive who would give him a look like *that*. By then, the mysterious adonis was making his way over to Vecchio's table, beer in hand.

"May I sit down?"

Politeness sometimes demanded compliance, didn't it? Here was his chance to be nice! Ray spoke in a hurry. "Sure, but I'm meeting someone later."

"Oh." he said smoothly. "Is this someone special? I wouldn't want you to break my heart already."

Vecchio considered just who was this Benjamin Bratt clone? The man stood at about 5' 10" and looked like he lived in a gym, but his form was wiry and sleek, not bulky like he'd been pumping steroids. It couldn't be a joke from the guys at the precinct. None of them would even dare set foot in here. So why was a guy this gorgeous talking to him?

"Yeah, he's special." Ray said slyly.

The smile that could power the city did not lessen, making Ray's stomach quiver.

"Am I disturbing you?" His voice was as soothing as warm honey.

"No...not at all." Ray said dazedly.

"Steve." the guy said, his hand outstretched.

"Ray." he said, laughing a bit at the coincidental name and returned the welcoming gesture. Steve's skin was soft, but his grasp was firm.

"How do you drink that stuff?" he asked with minor disgust at Ray's sugar-free pop.

"Hate the diet stuff, huh? Well, you gotta' work your way up. Start with recreational use of diet seven-up, move on to heavy binges of the ginger-ales, then you get hooked on the really hard stuff - the colas!" Ray hoisted his drink at the last part, while smiling.

It worked. The other guy laughed, his smile somehow brighter. He sobered quickly, his eyes growing steamy. "Okay, I'll take your advice. I just wanted to let you know once I heard you were drinking the low-calorie stuff, that well, you don't need to improve a thing by my standards."

Was that a growl heard in his voice? And why was Vecchio letting Steve see his words had had their intended effect? The Italian's hungry eyes searching the others man's form was more than obvious. Why was Ray flirting with him?!

"I'll remember that." Vecchio stated, his own voice soft, yet husky. "I could say the same about you. Wouldn't want to mess with perfection."

Estimating his age, the muscled guy was probably in his mid twenties. Ray knew these types, figuring he was probably looking for a 'sugary daddy', an older companion who'd buy expensive gifts, take him traveling and set them up to live in some fancy penthouse. In return, the hunk would be a 'companion,' basically engaging in the legal form of prostitution. This meant he saw Vecchio as much older than he really was, most likely fooled by the Armani. It was flattering, even though he was being considered a geezer.

Steve broke the silence by saying, "Can I call you?"

There was a strange itch in him that did not want this to end, but it was getting a little intense. Ray heard himself saying, "Give me your number." The guilt and excitement caused his heart rate to soar, but outwardly he kept cool.

Steve took out a pen from his jacket pocket and eloquently wrote out his number on the back of a business card. As Ray took the card from him, Steve whispered, "Don't forget about me."

"I won't, I won't." Ray cooed, grinning.

The man stood, shook hands goodbye and retreated to the bar. Ray nearly groaned, Steve's hand was so hot to the touch. Vecchio took up another chicken wing, extraordinarily pleased at the little exchange that just transpired. It had been forever since anybody approached him with more than conversation in mind! The business card said the guy worked as manager for a record store and the bass player of a band. Ray nearly laughed out loud, thinking how rich, not to mention silly, it would be to date a hot-bodied musician. He took another sip of his drink, placed the card in his pocket and looked up with smiling eyes at his would-be suitor at the bar. There was a blur, then his view was blocked completely by the form in front of him. He had to blink before he saw it was Benny.

"Hello, Ray. How was your day?"

Ray shook his head to clear it. His thoughts had come to an abrupt halt and he could no longer see Steve. Fraser was here and it was time to have lunch. Ray found himself concerned that he could no longer see his would-be escort. Fraser was in the way.

"Hey, Benny."he managed at last.

"I see you ordered wings. Why do you have two drinks?"

Um...one is for you." he blurted out.

The Canadian shrugged, taking a sip of the liquid. Vecchio watched him. The Canadian had no idea that he'd been approached, that Steve had bought him a drink and that he'd flirted with him.

"I have something for you." Fraser said, looking mischievously at Ray.

"Really? What's that?"

Benny reached into his brown jacket and pulled out a magazine. It was called 'Vintage Car', issue #523. It featured an in depth articles on the Buick Riviera. One could read, learn about - or even search to purchase - nearly all makes and parts for the aforementioned car.

"My God, Benny! Where on Earth did you find this?! I've been looking forever for this issue!"

"That is not a concern. I know I promised it to you a couple of months ago and I'm sorry it took so long. I'm just glad you like it."

The Italian was excited over the magazine and began flipping through the pages, then set it aside so he could later absorb it in full. Fraser launched into a explanation of his recent extended work hours and threw in some details about how he had to counsel Jasmine about having her dog put to sleep. Also, the Constable Cooper needed his assistance in arranging for the delegates from that was arriving soon from Germany and the accommodations to be arranged.

While Benny spoke, Ray let his eyes periodically drift over to the magazine. Fraser had gone far out of his way to get this for him. It was more than what a simple friend would do, something likely done for a lover. But they weren't exactly lovers, now were they? They were extremely close, but not having sex - the opposite of fuck buddies. In love, but they rarely made love. Was that possible? Vecchio had heard of marriages where there was no physical release of lust. He never understood that. He and Angie had a good sex life, for the short time they were married. Vecchio did concede there was much fighting as well as lovemaking between them. Can you love someone and not want them at the same time? Fraser was living proof this was indeed a reality. The Mountie did love him. The sweet little gestures such as the magazine proved it. He just scarcely required licentious attention from the Italian.

But it wasn't as if Fraser didn't have a sex drive. Ray had woken up a few times during the night to find the Mountie pleasuring himself, making the Detective feel...out of place, like he was intruding on an personal moment and would therefore roll over and go back to sleep, leaving the Constable to his fantasies. It burned a deep hole in Ray's soul, a part of him wanting to demand to know just who Benny was thinking about, because it sure as Hell wasn't him. Except that the Italian felt his lover's thoughts were his own and despite their problems, he had no right to insist on such information. So this was his life. It wasn't bad by any means, but it was severely lacking. Considering it didn't have to be. The Detective had hoped that would change over time, but it did not seem to be getting better. If fact, it was getting worse.

"Are you all right, Ray?"

"Yeah, Benny, I'm fine. Just a little tired. Continue with what you were saying." he said a little tersely. He took another gulp of soda. From the one Steve had bought him.

Fraser shifted and Vecchio could see that the Steve had left. Why did his heart sink at that discovery? He remembered the magazine and tried to feel good about it. He was grateful, but it most likely was payment in lieu of sex. It made him wonder. Just what were he and the Mountie? 'Intimate friends' suited them best, but he'd hoped for something a little more substantial from Fraser, who had more than enough passion to offer.

Ray glanced at his watch. It was time to go back to work, and looking back on their time together just now, Vecchio could see that he'd been rather quiet. He'd let Benny do most of the talking and when silence began to grow thick, he'd mention something he'd pulled out of the air. The Italian had been trying to catagorize their being together. He was also preoccupied with the impossibility of what Steve had offered. It felt so damned good to have someone interested in him again. Be that as it may, with the extreme unlikelihood that anything would come of said encounter, it just reinforced the pressure the Italian had been experiencing lately. Ray was getting ready to go pay the bill when Benny snagged his hand.

"Hey..." smiling blue-grey eyes said to him. "I love you."

He feigned a happy face. "I love you too, Benny. Thanks for the magazine."

"Don't mention it."

They went out into the cold autumn air and made their way to the Riv. Just the thought of having to go back to work was creating a dull throbbing in his temples. Vecchio was shivering by the time they'd made in inside the car. The chill, as well as everything else, was irritating him more than necessary. He revved the engine and turned on the heater, trying to ignore his teeth chattering, as Fraser climbed in beside him. It took Benny an extra few seconds, making Ray snap, "Fraser! It's freezing! Close the door."

"Sorry, Ray. The seatbelt was in the way."

Benny stole an extra couple of glances at his lover. Ray tried to hide the impatience he was feeling. It was like being crushed between a rock and a hard place. Fraser outwardly had no idea why the Detective should be upset and that inconsideration made him even more angry. It was that causal indifference which got Ray smoldering inside. But he couldn't say anything, as it would just end in more useless words being thrown back and forth. And all for what? So Benny could act interested in the middle of the night?

The Italian kind of laughed as he pulled out into traffic, picturing himself ridiculously getting up the courage to call Steve, which would never happen, of course. On the other hand, to just entertain the fantasy might be enough fuel for a few 'self-help' scripts. The Italian wasn't unfamiliar with jerking off, God knows, with Benny having his own eternal version of 'not-tonight-I-have-a-headache.' With this new meeting in his memory and after a few visits with his palm, Vecchio just might be a little less mad at the entire world. The Detective dropped off Fraser and made his way back to the station, only to find his desk stacked up with paperwork.

"What the Hell is this?!"

"Welsh was the one who said for you to go over the files on the new cases again, so don't go getting even more of an attitude, if that's possible." Elaine informed him.

Shock, disbelief and frustration were making their home his Ray Vecchio's life and he was not at all joyful about it. That headache he was hoping avoid was coming on full throttle. He plopped down, slammed open the first file and cupped his throbbing head in his hand. Exhaustion was making the words blur and he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, which only resulted in dizziness. He realized he was clenching his fist and forced it open. The Italian was as tense as he'd been in a long time and was primed to yell at the first person asking a stupid question. Since he was so wired, it took him a few minutes to discover the case he was reading about was the one he was most familiar with. It was indignantly tossed aside, then he took up the next beige folder.

"Hey, Vecchio. Got change for a dollar? The vending machine is out of change." Elaine called.

The Detective bit his tongue, closed his eyes, sighed, then looked over at the pretty civilian aid. "Let me check."

He dug into his pants pockets, finding a few coins, then checked his jacket pocket. He felt something small, made of hard paper and rectangular. He pulled it out. It was Steve's business called, complete with home phone number. His stomach flipped at the guilty recollection of flirting with the beautiful stranger. He stared at the card like it was the oddest creation known to man.

"Well?" Elaine inquired, having walked up to him by now.

"What? Oh yeah, here."

He handed her the money, his eyes never leaving the card in his hand. He barely remembered taking the dollar from her.

This guy wanted him. He couldn't deny it. The fact it was for the most superficial reasons stirred him deeply . The handsome man was willing to sleep with him based on looks alone, which caused his pulse to kick into overdrive. It was one thing to fantasize about a cute woman you saw on the street or because the guy behind the deli counter smiled at you while taking your order. Such episodes were entertaining, yet sadly fell short in the realism department. It was different when you took pleasure in the belief something just might happen. And now he literally held that power in his hand.

Staring a hole in the card, nervous and giddy, picked up the phone. He put it back down, thinking how ridiculous he was being. Ray had never done anything like this. He could never tell Benny. It would upset the Hell out of him. But carrying on behind his back wasn't possible either. What if this guy was a lunatic? What if he was for real? He picked it up again, dialing three of the seven digits. He hung up. What if the guy wouldn't use a condom? There was the possibility of contracting...something. His libido and conscience were having an all out tug of war and he wasn't sure he was going to survive the fight. A rising feeling of dread, a sinking sensation assaulted him. It was a lost opportunity that never really was, like a child who's cheap toy had just broken.

You stupid imbecile! What the Hell are you thinking?

The more he considered it, the more it became depressingly apparent this could not happen. It wasn't just out of devotion to Fraser, but the fact it would be too much trouble and was far, far too risky. It just wasn't worth it. Which left him back at square one. A vice was closing in around him and he suddenly felt like he was sitting on pin and needles. Shaking, he was shaking, he was so upset. Pissed and disgusted, he crumpled the card and threw it in the wastepaper basket, thinking that was where he might as well put the rest of his sexual life - right there in the garbage, with the last chance of an attractive person wanting him and just look forward to living forever with The Ice Mountie. He stood abruptly and collided with someone, slamming right into them.

"Whoa!" James said. "Gotta' get to fire, Vecchio? What's your hurry?"

"No-nothing." Vecchio stammered, stepped back. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Oh, I just thought I'd see if you were still drowning here. You okay? You look kinda' rattled."

"It's nothing. No, not really." Vecchio replied, still startled.

"Good, cause I wasn't in the mood to hear you whine. Wanna' come by my place for a beer?"

Vecchio's ire nearly erupted. He simply could not leave at the moment. Every ounce of him was screaming to get the Hell out of there, to spend some time with his silly friend. That way, maybe his hormones would stop making him a nervous wreck. Thinking he deserved at least a bit of a compromise, he said, "No, I really can't right now, James, but let me come by in a couple of hours. I promise."

"Sure. Bring the Mountie. Even if it's just so I can look at him."

Ray laughed, and was surprised by how good it felt. It told him just how intense his depression had gotten as of late. He had the sudden urge to be alone with his childish accomplice, to be able to swear, burp and tell off-color jokes without a red-faced Constable asking for explanations or casting judgmental looks. "No, this time you'll just have to put up with just little 'ole me!"

"Oh, God! I am going to be bored to tears! I'd better call the hookers over now."

"Right, like you'd pay for anything better than what walks on Rush street."

Pace's mouth dropped open. "Ooo-oo! Me-ow, now *that* is that Ray I know! See you then, hon!"

James made a kiss sound and bowed on his way out. Smiling, Vecchio shook his head and turned back to his mound of work. Elaine, who had witnessed his little meeting, walked past him and said, "Hmm. Maybe I should tell Fraser you're seeing someone else."

It was out before he knew it. "You would first have to interrupt him re-setting the leg of a giraffe."

"...what?" she asked, befuddled by the curious statement.

The Italian rolled his eyes. "Never mind. Let me finish this mess, okay?"

He tried his best to not look at the clock, but the slow passage of time was ever present. Finally, after an hour and a half of reviewing the cases, he called it quits. It was either that or burst into flames from impatience. He simply couldn't do this anymore. He had to get out of this place or he was seriously going to hurt somebody. His head wasn't pounding like before, considering it had moved behind his eyes, instead of penetrating his skull. The Italian stood, trying to get up enough strength to grab his coat and headed for the door.

"Elaine, I am, as of right now, officially gone. Anybody wants me for anything and they'll have to call the morgue for someone more up to it."

"Right, I'll remember to tell the Lieutenant that."

"Oh, you're such a big help."

The cold seat of the Riv helped soothe his tired and aching muscles. He wrenched his head from side to side, trying to work out the tightness from his neck and reminded himself it was over - for now. He could go over to James, have a beer, relax, talk, then go home and sleep without having to worry about chasing the bad guy for a couple of days. All he had to do now was go pick up Benny, drop him at the apartment, then leave for Pace's place. Fraser wouldn't mind staying home alone. It would give him the chance to read or shine his boots or go over his serge with a magnifying glass and tweezers.

Or, God forbid, think I might want him.

A wave of pain swept through him, but he pushed it away. Vecchio was not going to let his yearning ruin this weekend. He wasn't sure how he was going to pull that off, and yet he would find a way. Feeling like there was a heavy cloud hanging just above, he pulled out of the precinct parking lot and headed towards the Consulate. While at a stoplight, he rolled his window down to get some of the cold air, hoping it would help ease his headache. Regardless of the late October weather, it was a typical Friday night in Chicago, with all the usual nightclub patrons and other working stiffs simply enjoying their time off. Music blared from cars and shops, loud horns sounded and there was the occasional scream, sometimes in protest, often in laughter. The mood on the street was at the same time both relaxed and spirited. The night was just starting and soon the Windy City's after hours life would be jumping.

Ray shook his head at them, wondering where on Earth did they get their energy? He wasn't a teenager anymore, that was for certain, and it was getting difficult keeping up with the next generations. Heck, it was hard keeping up with Fraser and they were nearly the same age! In the past, he and Pace would hang out until the wee hours every now and then, but it still wasn't without sleeping in for most of the next day. It was the one sure way Ray knew he could never become an alcoholic. Four beers and he was toast. "JP" wasn't far behind, becoming quite sauced at the limit of five.

Maybe I never was that young.

He reached the building where Benny worked a little early. He was tempted to go inside and get him, except that would mean he'd have to talk to Turnbull and maybe even Thatcher.

Nope. Just don't have the mental resources tonight. I'll just wait.

It was the most bizarre combination of emotions. Extreme fatigue mixed with too much caffeine, blend in a toxic level of unfulfilled desire, add a dash of sheer will to stay awake, then bake until burnt. He thanked God he usually did not experience such a poisonous combination. Vecchio wondered if going over to James would be such a good idea, considering he was so worn out. Still, he knew he owed some quality time with Pace, since he'd been all but neglecting the man lately. Then again, the Detective could tell he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon either, still hyped up from the demands of the last few weeks.

Well, James wouldn't have a problem with me spending the night. he presumed.

The thought of stretching out in bed, any bed, caused Ray to close his eyes and hang his head forward. Soon enough, Fraser was lightly tapping on the glass.

"Good evening, Ray." the Mountie greeted, as Dief hopped into the backseat.

"Hey ya', Benny."

Vecchio pulled out into traffic, trying to see past the big white mop of fur hogging the rearview mirror.

"How was your day, Ray?"

Vecchio knitted his brow. "How do you think, Fraser? It's been Hell for weeks."

"Of course. I'm sorry."

Ray closed his eyes for a second. "It's okay, Benny. Work was overwhelming, as usual. How was your day?"

"Fine, fine. You will be glad to know my work hours will be altered soon. They will revert back to the normal schedule."

"Nothing is ever normal in our lives, Fraser, but thanks for letting me know. By the way, I'm gonna' go over to James for a while tonight."

"That's fine. There is the possibility I will need to accompany the Inspector to Ottawa this weekend. That should, however, only last for no longer than a day."

"Oh yeah, is this the thing with Constable Cooper?"

"That's right and - Ray! Look!"

"What?!"

"That corvette has no renewal tags. That's a crime we should investigate."

"What?! Oh, come on, Fraser. Let it just be."

"Ray, we could at least inform the driver that-"

"Okay, okay!" Ray snapped as he maneuvered behind the vehicle. "Fraser, call in the license plate."

Fraser did so, stupidly calling out the letters of the plate using words longer than necessary. "...platitude, atmosphere, zone."

Elaine's voice crackled over the radio. "What? Please repeat that, Fraser."

Enraged, Vecchio snatched the mouthpiece from the Constable and said, "Elaine, it's plate number, 684 peter, adam, zane."

"Give me a minute." she answered back.

The Italian gave the Constable a nasty look and continued behind the other car, when Elaine came back on the radio, "It checks out, Ray. Nothing's been reported."

Ray's stomach tightened a bit as the corvette turned directly onto the side streets.

Oh, God! A residential district.

If a chase were to ensue, it would become extremely dangerous if they remained in this area. Vecchio could feel a cold sweat coming on, the kind that came every time they were in a pursuit and the fool being followed ran stop signs, ignored red lights and turned corners without pause. It was then the Detective saw the school out of the corner of his eye.

"Damn it!" He yelled and hit the brakes.

"Ray! What are you doing?!"

"Stopping, Fraser. What does it look like?"

The cop and Constable watched as the blue automotive went sailing into the night.

"But, why?!" The Mountie blurted.

The Italian looked at his lover like he was from another planet. "Why?! Do you even know where we are in the city, Fraser? We're in a *neighborhood*. With kids and families and a pet dog and a cat they shouldn't be putting out at night. We are NOT going nearly a hundred miles a hour to catch an idiot doing nothing except cheating the DMV!"

"Ray, I know the tag violation may not seem severe, but we need to-"

"No, we don't, Fraser! Can't we just go home and have a nice, uneventful, evening for once?!"

"Ray, if we go south on Buchanan, we should be able to pick up the trail, stop the driver and be home in a short while."

"Do you have any idea how tired I am?! I can't do it, Fraser! I won't."

There was the most sinister pause before the Mountie spoke again. "Didn't you say you were going to spend time with James?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Then how can you say you're too tired to do what's right?"

The fuming wrath he'd previously kept in check reached it's zenith and ignited. He swerved in his seat, screaming at the Canadian, "Who the fuck do you think you are, Fraser?! What the Hell is the matter with you?! You've got everything in the fucking world and yet it's still not enough! I am sick of it! Do you hear me?! SICK of it!"

The man in the brown uniform simply stared straight ahead, his face displaying regret, but that was it. And that's how it would be for the rest of the night. Once Vecchio's voice was raw from yelling, the quiet Constable would go home, take up a book, bury his nose in it, like nothing ever happened. But tonight, Ray was having none of it. Even Dief shrank back, after detecting the heated altercation erupting.

"I want an answer, Oh Mighty Mountie! What the fuck more do you want?! You have everyone trailing around after you, but you'd never give anyone that satisfaction! The world worships your heroic duties that never fucking end! And anybody in any relationship with you has to be a criminal or insane, but you always seem to find enough fools for the job!"

"I refuse to talk to you in a state like this, Ray."

"Then get out! Get the Hell out of my car!"

"Let's just go home."

"Why? So you can pout all fucking night that I didn't run over some kids to get to that car?! Fine, if you won't leave, then I will!"

And with that, Vecchio exited the Riv, leaving the keys in the ignition. Benny got out the passenger side and started after the irate Italian. "Get away from me, Fraser!"

"Ray, just listen to reason."

A fragile barricade crumpled within him and Ray swung around to face his approaching lover. Fury exuded from him and he could feel the red-hot tide taking him over. The cop clenched his teeth, hissing, "Get...the Hell...away...from...me, Fraser, so help me God!"

Fraser stopped, his expression remaining impassive. The Canadian was implementing his usual strategy, waiting for Ray to calm down so they could go back to being his fuck-up version of a couple. The two men stood under the lamplight, staring at one another, on a quiet street. It was lined with old, large, two story houses, with both a front and backyard, and probably attics and basements as well. It was the kind of place where Ray grew up. How on Earth did he get so far away from that time? Given, his youth was never easy, but it wasn't this bad either. Or maybe it was and he just couldn't remember because Benny had made him so happy at the start. What had changed so drastically over the last short years to turn them into something close to his parents?

He suddenly got the mental image of him yelling and screaming at a brick wall, for all the good this was doing either of them. For the first time in their relationship, he could see the yawning cavern that was fanning out between them. His heart was aching, like it could understand the grief he was feeling. The expanse of the Grand Canon looked tiny compared to the gap separating them. The familiarity of a solitary existence, the gaping wound of aloneness, besieged the Detective and he shivered. He did not feel a part of Fraser, like a mate or a pair or a couple. His face blazing, hot tears filled his eyes.

"Go...to...Hell." Ray snarled and stormed off, hoping the noble Constable would let him be.

The sad fact was, the Canadian was impossible to get away from. And an incredible, numbing fear came over Ray as he marched off. If the Mountie caught up with him and placed his hands on the cop, Vecchio would have to surrender. There was no way he could hit his lover. It simply wasn't in his makeup. And yet, the mere idea of the Detective relenting caused him to start screaming inside. The mental jolts of terror were damned near physically painful. Hyperventilating, tears streaming down his face, he prayed Fraser would back off. As soon as he hit the corner, his heart soared even more after spotting a cab. He hailed it down, hopped in and after a minute, he looked back. He didn't see the Riv, meaning Benny wasn't following him. Ray told the driver to go to the precinct, but that was not at all where he wanted to be. The pathetic truth began to dawn on him.

He had nowhere to go.

There wasn't a single person at which he could spend the night without too many questions being asked. A decent hotel was just too damned expensive and Ma's place was out of the question, since everyone would know in an instance that he and Fraser had quarreled. Watching the streetlights illuminate the inside of the taxi as they passed street after street, completely drained and weary, he acerbically mused he shouldn't have thrown Steve's card away after all. Then, he just about passed out upon remembering his pledge to go see James. To say the least, the Detective was no longer up for a Pace-sized helping of juvenile antics and blue humor. Nor did he want the man to know of the fight that just happened. And yet, he'd made a promise.

"Driver, take me to 812 West Fourteenth, where they built those lofts about a mile from the police station."

"You mean the renovated factory?"

"Right."

"Yeah, it's a bunch of overpriced apartments now."

"I know. I have a friend who lives there."

END