Teaser: remember what the diamond thief said to Victoria about her partner--"Remember, there's nowhere to hide if I want to find him."

No Place to Hide

by: M-A

There were times that Ray Kowalski really wished his lover--and unofficial partner--carried a gun. Wished he could just say 'Rack that bad boy and cover me!' This was one of those times.

Ray suspected that Fraser wasn't joking when he said the reason he remained gunless was the legalities involved. He knew Fraser had carried a gun back home and had, in fact, guarded his home with a rifle. The image of Fraser with a rifle made Ray smile. And feel a tad horny, which was utterly inappropriate since he was in the middle of a shootout and his freak of a lover had no way of covering him. Ray didn't really want to go out into the hail of bullets. The only reason he considered sending his lover into it was that bullets seemed to bounce off Fraser. The Mountie had been shot no less than three times when he was Vecchio's partner, but, except for a thrown out back and being roughed up by some goons, Kowalski's Fraser was invincible. Ray, on the other hand, was not. He had yet to be wounded in his time with Fraser and he knew the inevitable would come. Hopefully, it wouldn't be today. Fraser had hinted that he had a surprise waiting for Ray at home. Something that involved cherries and whipped cream.

"Ray?"

Ray turned towards the sound of the most beautiful voice in the world. He had no idea how many times Fraser had called out his name. "What?"

"Should I go?"

"No! Stay here!"

"You have the gun! You cover me!" Not waiting for his lover to protest, Fraser ran out into the storm.

"Dammit, Ben!" Ray screamed, his words drowned out by his own firepower. He heard one of his aggressors scream and fall. And then his Ben, his strong, invincible Ben fell.

Everything happened in slow motion. The blowback cleared. The thunder of gunfire was silenced. Ray ran to his lover.

"Ben!" he yelled in a panic, ignoring, he knew, all procedure.

Fraser sat up, not looking even the least bit dazed.

"I'm okay, Ray!" he reassured his partner who had his hands all over him, checking for a wound or blood. "It just grazed my belt." Sure enough, Ray found a large scar marring the smooth surface of Ben's Sam Browne. So close, too close. He let out a strangled sound. "Ray...?"

"Thank you, God," Ray murmured. "Thank you, God."

They were still safe. For now.

~*~

"Ben, that *tickles*!" Ray complained as Fraser continued to squirt whipped cream around the detective's erect penis.

"Almost done," Fraser promised, reaching for the jar of maraschino cherries. He pulled one out by its stem, placing it on the tip of his lover's cock. "There. A perfect Ray sundae." Ray snorted. "Don't move! You'll ruin it!" Fraser exclaimed.

"What are you going to do with it?" Ray asked.

"Eat it. Then wash it down with your cum." Ray's eyes widened with shock.

"Oh, you're an evil Mountie!" Fraser moved up to kiss his lover softly.

"Shall I start? I'm feeling rather... thirsty."

~*~

Ray was still impressed by how *good* sex with Fraser was, even after a full year of being lovers. He loved how Fraser had no inhibitions in bed and was willing to try just about anything. Although neither man would have before imagined becoming bonded for life with a partner of the same sex, they found that they fitted together somehow.

It was never easy. Polite people said nasty things to their face. Rude people talked behind their backs. But it was in moments like these, as he snuggled bare skin to bare skin against his lover after a bout of mind blowing sex, that Ray understood just how important was this relationship he and Fraser fought to keep above water. The sex was secondary, basically the cherry on top of the proverbial cake. It was the cuddling that was so good, just being in each other's arms as a feeling of sheer peace and oneness with the world overcame them both. Nothing could go wrong in Ben's arms, Ray was sure of this. No matter how crazy life ever got, if he could retire to Fraser's warm, soft embrace every night, he could face anything.

Fraser was snoring softly. Ray knew his lover well enough now to know that this indicated that Fraser was more than slightly sated by the night's lovemaking. Ray had thought the cherries and whipped cream idea was cliched and a tad kinky at first, but he was glad they'd gone through with it. He would never look at another piece of his mother's cherry cake the same way again. Fraser's craving for variety in their sex life never ceased to amaze him. Ray suspected his lover was trying to make up for nearly forty years of celibacy, minus the odd encounter here or there. Encounters that were always more bitter than fulfilling. Incredible how two lives which had been marred by such darkness were able to create a blinding light when united.

"Ray?" Fraser asked sleepily. "Can't you sleep?" Ray looked down to look his lover in the eye. Fraser was adorable. There was no other way to describe it. Sleep erased all the tired lines in his face, making him look like a little boy. There were pillow marks on his face and dried drool had collected at the corner of his mouth.

Instinctively, Ray reached over to ruffle Fraser's hair.

"I rather watch you sleep," he answered finally.

"Oh," Fraser said, not being able to say anything more coherent. He snuggled more closely against his Ray, wrapping the blankets more tightly around himself. "I love you," he murmured before falling asleep again.

"I love you, too," Ray answered, making himself comfortable as he wrapped his bony arms around Fraser's torso. "I love you so much."

~*~

"I still don't think it's fair," Fraser argued the next morning as he sat up in bed, blankets pooled around his waist.

Ray finished pulling on his tee-shirt before answering. "Ben, baby, we can't expect them to make our schedules coincide."

"I think they're doing it on purpose," Fraser pouted which made Ray smile.

"Be a good little off duty Mountie today and we can use my handcuffs tonight."

Fraser's eyes lit up. "But what am I supposed to do with myself all day?"

~*~

In the old days, he would have gone to the precinct. But he wasn't exactly welcome there anymore. Not that people were openly hostile or anything, not anymore. It was just hard working under Francesca's blatant contempt at seeing Fraser and Ray together, or under Dewey's under-his-breath wisecracks about 'queers'. Welsh and Huey seemed okay with the arrangement, but they were only two allies in a sheer school of hostile fish. Most of the cops at the twenty-seventh fit the proverbial 'police officers are homophobes' cliche all too well.

Oh, Fraser and Ray were discreet. Hadn't exactly come out in as many words to their coworkers. But things leaked out and rumours were passed around. Neither man wanted to deny the rumours, preferring to be able to live openly, choosing the burden of contempt over the burden of secrecy.

The situation at the Consulate wasn't much better. Probably worse. Turnbull couldn't say two words without tripping over his tongue, always afraid to make a faux-pas and refer inappropriately to the relationship between Fraser and Ray. As for Inspector Thatcher, her manner turned even more icy than before and she had no qualms in handing Fraser the most menial tasks she could imagine. Someday, Fraser hoped to find the courage to tell her that it was she, not him, who had denied them the hope of a relationship. As she had dawdled and played her games, Fraser had found someone with more to lose by loving the Mountie, but also with more courage than Thatcher had ever shown. In the end, Fraser knew he had found his happy ending with the right person. He couldn't have imagined such

happiness with Thatcher.

~*~

"I dunno. You can clean the place. You're always complaining about what a slob I am," Ray suggested finally. Fraser rolled his eyes. "Or you could go to a museum. Or to a movie. Or to the precinct with me." Fraser shook his head.

"Not yet."

"Welsh has been asking about you."

"He's a good man, but I think we've let enough time pass for things to change. They haven't. I... I don't have the energy, Ray."

"I know, baby, I know. Try to have a good day, okay?"

"I'll try," Fraser said with a teasing smile.

Once Ray had left, Fraser dressed and padded barefoot to the kitchen to make breakfast. When his eggs were done, it was just about time for the mailman to have passed, so he put his food in the oven to keep it warm and hurried downstairs. He was hoping his latest issue of 'National Geographic' magazine had arrived so that he could read it while enjoying a leisurely meal.

"Good morning, Constable," the landlady greeted him in the lobby where she was mopping the floor.

"Good morning, Mrs. Terrence," he answered. "Has the mail passed?"

"Indeed it has."

Fraser opened his mailbox and was disappointed to find only bills and one letter without a postmark. It was addressed to him. Curious, as he did not recognize the handwriting, Fraser slit the envelope open, absent mindedly saying goodbye to his landlady as he headed back upstairs.

Sitting in front of a plate of eggs and toast, Fraser read his mysterious letter.

'Constable,' (it said)

'We're old acquaintances. Meet us in the alley behind your building when you get this.'

It was not signed.

Fraser's curiosity was obviously piqued. He weighed his options. He could ignore the letter or go see who it was who wanted to meet him. The handwriting was unfamiliar, so the letter could very well have been written by someone who had a grudge against him. Then again, the alley behind the apartment building had entrances on two main streets and was always kept free of debris. Moreover, there were entrances into various buildings and shops lining it. There really

wasn't much danger in meeting the strangers there. Swallowing the last of his breakfast, Fraser got his Stetson and exited the apartment, locking the door behind him.

He left the building through the rear door leading into the alley, figuring that this would provide him with an escape route. No sooner had Fraser stepped outside than a heavy object slammed into the back of his head. He dropped like a stone, losing consciousness in the wake of mind numbing pain.

~*~

The same pain which had knocked him out woke Fraser up sometime later. He was firmly bound to a chair, the rough ropes cutting painfully into his wrists and ankles. He didn't recognize his location. It appeared to be the ever cliched warehouse--grey, damp, and dusty. He was thirsty. His head throbbed so badly he could barely think, much less assess his condition and make a plan to extirpate himself from the situation he had foolishly walked into.

He'd lost all sense of time. A full day could have passed for all he knew. It was day as sunlight streamed through dirty windows high up the warehouse walls. His injury had drained the Mountie of all his energy. His head drooped with sleepiness until his chin rested against his chest. A door creaking open forced the head back up again.

Two men entered the room. They were tall--at least six feet--and strongly built. Their clothing was dark and without distinction. They each wore a ski mask which made them look identical."Finally awake," one sneered, his voice raising alarm bells in Fraser's mind. He knew that voice. If he could only place it... His head injury made all thought foggy and it was difficult to focus. He tried to access the special place in his mind where he stored voices, but he couldn't reach it. If only he could sleep a little more."What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice not as strong as he would have liked, even a little slurred thanks to his minor, self-diagnosed, concussion. He resisted an urge to struggle against his bonds. He had to keep his calm. Now that he and Ray were lovers, he had everything to live for. This wouldn't be a replay of the Warfield case if he could avoid it at all. "Who are you?" he asked again when he got no answer the first time, managing to control the shaking in his voice. The speaking goon ripped off his ski mask, giving the Mountie a clear glimpse of his face. Fraser's heart sank. "You." Yes, Him. The last time they had met, Fraser had stolen thousands of dollars worth of diamonds from him and had escaped in a hail of bullets. Fraser had never been so scared in his entire life, even more so than the last time he had faced this man. Now, he had so much to lose.

The goon sneered. "I told your partner. No place for you to hide if we want to find you."

Oh, god, Fraser thought frantically. End this nightmare now! I laundered that money for a good reason and now this... "What do you want from me?"

"We want you to make an exchange. You don't and everyone knows what you did. No one crosses us, Mountie. No one."

"I have nothing to hide," Fraser challenged, not prepared for the goon coming forward and taking a swing at him. The fist collided with his nose, spewing blood. Fraser let out an involuntary moan as stars exploded around him.

"Nothin' to hide, that's good. A cop like you who launders money for his pretty little lover won't stop for a second before getting the dope we need." Finally a glimmer of hope... Maybe if he could convince them he was really was dirty He had laundered the money to save Ray, not to help Victoria, but the goon needn't know that.

Right now, Fraser had to do whatever was necessary to get himself out of this mess, even if it meant deceit.

"Okay--" Fraser gasped as he was hit a second time. "I'll do it," he managed to make out.

"I knew you'd say yes," the goon said with a note of self-satisfaction in his voice. "Men like you always say yes. You make the exchange same place as last and we'll pick up the stuff after.

We got a deal?"

"We have a deal," Fraser answered.

"Good. You cross us again and that pretty boyfriend of yours gets it. Only we'll use bats, not fists." The goon emphasized his statement with a few punches to the Mountie's torso. It took Fraser super human strength not to let out a groan. "And we'll let the cops know exactly what you've done."

"I--" Fraser's response was cut off by a punch to the jaw. "I," he tried again once he'd recovered his breath. "Don't want them to know. I won't cross you again. I get your point. Just leave my husband alone."

Goon two made a leering face. "Your husband, how cute." Goon one laughed in agreement. "Okay," number two continued. "We'll drop you somewhere. Just be at the exchange for three."

"I'll be there," Fraser promised.

Something hard slammed into the back of his head again.

~*~

The goons barely let the van screech to a stop in front of the twenty-seventh station house before throwing their now conscious burden out of the vehicle where it literally bounced upon impact with the sidewalk. Fraser could not contain his groan as already bruised shoulders bore the brunt of the impact. Uniformed officers milling outside rushed to his help as others raced after the van. "Get an ambulance," one of the cops screamed.

"No!" Fraser exclaimed, struggling to get to his knees. "Help me inside and get Louise St. Laurent!" The officers looked at one another. "Inside!" Fraser repeated frantically. Finally, two cops reached down and pulled Fraser to his feet. His knees threatened to buckle, but he gritted his teeth and managed to stand somewhat upright. He took a cautious step, then another. "Please run ahead

and get Louise St. Laurent," he nearly pleaded with the third officer. She hesitated for a moment then ran inside. Fraser, with generous help from the two officers holding him up, slowly followed her inside.

By the time Fraser had made most of his way upstairs, the news of his predicament had spread like wildfire throughout the station. Ray was halfway down the stairs to meet his lover. "Ben!" he cried, rushing over to warp a protective arm around the man he loved, almost shoving aside one of the uniformed officers who had been escorting Fraser. "What the hell happened?" Oh, god, let him be all right! he pleaded. He'd never seen Ben look *this* bad before!

"Not now, Ray," Fraser answered wearily. "I must talk with Louise St. Laurent."

"She's on her way, Constable," Welsh said from the top of the stairs. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"No! I must speak with her first. It's imperative that I speak with her first! It'll be too late afterwards!"

"Ben, what's going on?" Ray asked in bewilderment. He had never, in his entire relationship with Fraser, seen the Mountie act like this.

"Please, Ray, I have to wait for Ms. St. Laurent. Just help me upstairs, okay?" To press his point, the Mountie almost doubled over as pain wracked his chest.

"No way!" Ray exclaimed. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No!" Fraser yelled, forcing himself to take a step up the stairwell. "You're not listening to me!"

Ray almost stumbled back in shock. Fraser had never yelled at him like that. "Okay, baby, she's on her way. Calm down." Ray didn't even notice he'd used an endearing term for his lover in public. "Don't tell me to calm down!" Fraser burst out, taking another step upward.

"Ben... Yelling at us won't help. Come on up," Ray soothed, even more worry flooding him as Fraser made no attempt to apologize for his outburst. With a bit of coaxing, Ray managed to lead his lover upstairs.

No one thought to make a sniggering comment as Ray and Fraser entered the Bullpen holding one another tightly. The Mountie looked like he was ready to keel over.

"Room two!" Huey yelled from his desk. "That's where she's meeting you!" Ray thanked the detective and led his lover there. Inside, Ray tried to make Fraser as comfortable as possible.

"Why don't I get you cleaned up, first, baby?" Ray suggested.

"No time," Fraser gasped. "Let me deal with St. Laurent first."

"Ben, you're scaring me. What the hell's going on?" Fraser looked down, shame preventing him from looking his lover in the eye.

"You'll know soon, Ray. I promise. Just not now. I don't have the energy. All you need to know now is that this was my fault."

"Like the Warfield case was your fault," Ray commented sarcastically.

Fraser shook his head. "No, Ray, not like the Warfield case at all. Just wait a little longer. Please."

Ray gave a resigned nod. He reached over and squeezed Fraser's hand. "I'll be outside, okay?"

"Thanks, Ray."

~*~

Louise St. Laurent arrived at the precinct a few minutes later, her displeasure at being called away from an important case being evident on her stern features. She hoped that this would be good. That maybe the Mountie would confess to being a serial killer or something so that she could *finally* finish taking him down. He was dirty.

She knew it.

While she entered interview room two cool and poised as always, she became visibly shaken by Fraser's bloody, battered appearance. "What's this about, Constable? Couldn't you have taken the time to clean yourself up, first?" she asked disapprovingly, her voice frosty.

"It's about the Metcalf case, ma'am," Fraser said quietly.

"You're right, this couldn't have waited," St. Laurent agreed. Oh, this was going to be good, she thought. A confession after all this time! "What about the Metcalf case?"

"It's about how the diamonds were recovered, ma'am. I, uh, I used some of the money from the robbery to get them." St. Laurent raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise, although she really wanted to dance with glee. Finally, something solid on the Mountie! Her intense dislike of him superceded anything else at the moment, even prevented her from wondering why Fraser was in the condition he was in.

"You know what that is, don't you, Constable?" Just to rub a little salt in the wound.

"Ma'am, I've been a cop for sixteen years. I know what money laundering is," Fraser answered shortly. Ooh, I can get him testy! St. Laurent thought. Even the Mountie has a short fuse! "Of course. How does this tie in with today," she continued, her voice still controlled. "The men I took the diamonds from... They couldn't use the money. At least, it wasn't worth to them the price of the diamonds. So I just took them. The diamonds, I mean, and I ran. They, uh, contacted me today, told me to make another exchange or they would reveal anonymously that I'd attempted to launder the money. As you can see, they thought physical force would persuade me. Of course, it wasn't necessary. I agreed right away to get the drugs for them, just so I could get out of there alive. I had no intention of ever doing the exchange. I brought you here to let you know about the exchange going down this afternoon--I was hoping to nab them-- and also to confess my actions in the Metcalf case, so that their attempts to blackmail me would fail. Also to show to the Law that I have nothing to hide. My motives in doing the first exchange were not criminal."

St. Laurent nodded thoughtfully as she continued to jot down a few notes. Damn, her case on this one would be weak! Face it, Louise, she admitted finally. You're never going to get him. No judge would take this to court. She'd just have to get the Mountie some other way.

"What are the details of the exchange today, Constable?" she asked finally. At least, she could get *something* out of this.

"I meet the dealers at a warehouse--one twenty-eight Water Street--and I come alone. I do the exchange and then they pick up their goods."

"At the warehouse?"

"At the warehouse."

"You'll do it of course. We'll have a team waiting outside."

"Yes, ma'am."

St. Laurent gathered up her notes. "I'm going to talk to Welsh," she said. "Don't leave the station."

"I won't."

Barely a minute after St. Laurent had left the room, Ray flew in, carrying a first aid kit.

"Ray, I can tell you what happened, now," Fraser said, exhaustion forcing his head down into his hands.

"Talk while I clean you up."

"No, I need your full attention, Ray. This won't be... easy."

Ray stopped dead in his tracks, "Okay, baby, now you're scaring me. What the hell's going on?" He sat down on a chair opposite his lover.

"I told you about Victoria."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't tell you the whole story. Victoria was going to set Ray up. She, uh, planted a key at his place, a key that opened a locker full of the stolen money. I had to stop her by gaining her trust. She needed me to make an exchange for her."

"An exchange?"

"Some of the robbery money for diamonds."

Ray gasped. "You did *what*?"

"Ray, I laundered some illegally obtained money. Well, I tried to. They wouldn't take the money so I just grabbed the diamonds and ran. Today, they took me for a twofold purpose: to teach me a lesson and to have me make another exchange. I will make that exchange, but for the purpose of arresting them..." Fraser continued for a moment not noticing the darkening look in his lover's eyes. Then he finally saw his lover's expression. "Ray, what's wrong?"

"What's *wrong*?" Ray repeated, his voice shaking. "You just told me this was a revenge thing. Not because you tried to bring `em to justice, but because you double-crossed them!"

Fraser's eyes widened. "Ray... I, uh, I don't understand your reaction."

"You can't just drop a bombshell like that, Fraser!" Ray roared, calling his lover by his surname for the first time in many months.

Fraser reached over to take Ray's hand, but Ray pulled away. "I gotta think, Ben. I'll be at home."

"Ray..." Fraser whispered as the foundation of his world crumbled around him.

"Later." Without another word, Ray stormed out of the room.

Fraser's head dropped into his hands.

Minutes later, a quiet knock was heard at the door. "Fraser?" Huey called softly when Fraser didn't acknowledge his knock. "Can I help you get cleaned up?" Fraser's gut twisted. Huey was the only person left who seemed to care.

It was a long moment before Fraser looked up slowly, the strain he was under making him look at least ten years older. Huey didn't comment on the fact. "Fraser?" he tried again.

"I'd appreciate your help, thank you," Fraser finally answered, his voice void of any emotion.

Huey had done this once for Gardino, so he was able to confidently pull peroxide and bandages out of the first aid kit. "I need you to look at me," he coaxed when Fraser didn't respond to his preparations. In answer, Fraser mechanically turned his body towards Huey.

Huey was no miracle worker, but Fraser did look much better when he limped out of interview two a quarter of an hour later. St. Laurent came up to him. "We're all set up. Go do your thing, Constable."

Fraser couldn't look her in the eye. His head felt so heavy.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you have the money?"

"They slipped it into my back pocket." He reached behind him to feel the burning bundle there.

"Let's do it, then."

~*~

The warehouse hadn't changed in the least, except perhaps for being a little more dusty. Although there were cops all around the building, Fraser had never before felt so alone in his life. Ray... What would come of them?

His steps echoed in the cavernous building. "Stop right there!" a voice boomed. It took all Fraser's willpower not to jump out of his skin. "Hands up!" Fraser complied. He heard someone come up behind him. "Spread your legs." Once Fraser had done so, the man behind him patted him down. "Got the cash?"

"My back pocket," Fraser answered, arms still raised. The man reached for the bundle. "Give me my package first," Fraser ordered.

He felt the man hesitate. "Me first or no deal!" Fraser repeated a little more forcefully. A long moment passed.

"Give me your left hand." Fraser lowered it, reaching out behind him. The goon slipped a package into it. He then ripped the bundle of money out of Fraser's pocket. "Stay right here and count out loud to one hundred," he ordered before retreating.

While Fraser counted, the CPD brought the goon down a safe distance away from the warehouse.

"Ninety-nine, one hundred," Fraser finished.

"You got the stuff?" Fraser literally jumped this time.

"Yes."

"Drop it and go outside." Fraser complied. Outside, the sun's glare nearly blinded him. Rather than being purifying, it felt like it was mocking him. Once Fraser was safe, the CPD moved in on the warehouse very quickly, arresting everyone inside.

~*~

Back at the precinct, Fraser sat in interview two, giving his statement to Welsh. "Have the men been identified?" he asked.

Welsh nodded. "John Simons and Paul Rubins. Rubins is the one who had it out for you."

Fraser made no comment on that fact. "May I go, now?" he asked finally, feeling a bone deep weariness. "Ray and I had an argument and I wish to make up as soon as possible."

Welsh slid some papers over to him as he nodded. "Just sign your statement, Constable. Ms. St. Laurent informed me that you are free to leave afterwards."

"Thank you, sir." Fraser's hand shook as he signed the form.

As he made his way out to the street, Fraser realised just how far away home felt when he was in such bad shape. Maybe Ray had decided to come for him... A sob threatened to choke him when Fraser stepped outside and found the street empty.

He had to hold it together. They'd had fights before--had even come to blows--and it always blew over. Ray just needed time to cool down. And Fraser, too, he realised. His heart was still racing as adrenaline flowed through him. It had been a horrifyingly long day and he sensed that although the sun was starting to set, it was not over, not yet at least. He felt so old, older than he'd ever felt, older than he'd ever imagined he could be.

The long, painful walk calmed him a little, allowing him time to reflect on his situation. He was in no legal trouble, St. Laurent had made this quite clear. No, his only problem was in his relationship with Ray. His lover's reaction had been utterly unexpected. Ray wasn't like Vecchio. He'd never expected Fraser to be perfect, and even encouraged imperfections in his lover. Maybe Ray was at home preparing for a long talk, doing the same sort of contemplation. Fraser could not allow himself to think that this was something they would be unable to work through.

Arriving at the apartment house, he allowed himself the luxury of riding the elevator. He just wasn't in any condition to tackle a five flight walk up today. Arriving in front of their door, he unlocked it and entered the apartment cautiously.

"Ray?" he called into the depths. There was no answer but he could hear movement in the bedroom. "Ray?" he called again. What he found in the bedroom turned his insides into a knot. "Ray, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doin'?" Ray answered, still tossing Fraser's things into his rucksack. "I'm packing your stuff."

"Why?" Fraser's voice shook. Ray looked up, anger making his nostrils flare.

"Why? You dare to ask me *why*? Maybe `cause I found out today I'm married to a *stranger*!"

"Ray, I haven't changed! I'm still the same person you knew!"

"*My* Ben can barely launder his shorts, much less money!"

"It wasn't about money laundering!" Fraser exclaimed, his voice rising a notch.

Ray finished filling up the bag and tossed it at Fraser who let it fall at his feet. "Get out. Give me time to think about it."

"Ray, *please*! I love you!"

"I love you, too. At least I thought I did. I don't want you here right now. This is still my place!" Fraser could barely swallow past the lump in his throat.

"Can't we talk? Please, Ray?" His lover's begging did not mollify Ray in the least.

"I'll talk when I'm ready. Now, *get out*!" Tears nearly blinding him, Fraser reached down, fumbling for his pack, trying to ignore the pain in his injured ribs. Shouldering the pack, he headed out of the apartment, not daring a look back at his lover.

~*~

He'd walked a few blocks when he realised he had no money. His wallet was still in the jeans folded over the chair in the bedroom. Ray hadn't thought to pack them. Despair almost flooded the battered Mountie. He hurt everywhere, from the tips of his toes to the depth of his soul. And now he had nowhere to go. Not caring who could see him, he sank to the kerb, hunched over, hands over his eyes. The sobs he withheld threatened to overwhelm him. Alone... he'd never felt so alone in his life. If only Ray had let him explain... If only he had loved Vecchio a little less... If only he had loved Victoria a whole lot less--or not at all. If only... The causality of life nearly took the last of the little breath he had left. Squaring his shoulders, Fraser fought some air back into his lungs, weighing the few options he had. Perhaps Inspector Thatcher would allow him to reside at the Consulate until Monday, when he could go fetch funds at the bank. That thought was nixed in the same instant. She knew enough about his personal affairs now. He didn't want her to know his lover, the man whose worth he had so valiantly defended, had thrown him out into the street without a thought for the Mountie's well being.

Fraser continued to walk aimlessly, his legs taking a familiar path without his being conscious of it. Tears finally slipped past his defences, their saltiness making his facial abrasions sting. He didn't bother to wipe them away. The pack cut into his shoulders, worrying at well abused muscles. He knew he'd be in a bad way the next morning and barely able to move. Perhaps he could sleep on a park bench. The worst that could happen would be that he'd be asked to leave or maybe arrested. A night in a cell sounded better than a night on a park bench. A honk suddenly made him grind to a halt.

"Fraser!" a familiar voice called. Fraser turned in the direction of Jack Huey's voice. He slowly made his way up to the detective's car. Huey took in the picture the Mountie made. It didn't make many of his detective skills to figure out what had happened. "You got anywhere to go?" he asked softly. Fraser shook his head. "Get in. My couch is a pullout." Fraser's mind screamed at him to refuse the invitation but his body begged for him to accept it. A night at Huey's meant a hot shower, too. Yes, he'd go. Wordlessly, Fraser folded himself into the passenger's side, resting his pack on his knees. Huey started the engine again. They drove for five minutes before Fraser spoke up quietly.

"He forgot to pack my wallet." Huey didn't turn to look at the woebegone Mountie.

"We'll get to my place and you can see what else he forgot to pack. I'll go get them for you, okay?"

"Thank you."

Huey's apartment was loft style, the bedroom area a raised platform at the rear, above the kitchen. The living room area was to the right of the entrance. Huey motioned towards it. "You can sleep there. Bathroom's across the hall and there's sheets and towels there. Fridge is stocked. Make yourself at home." Fraser gave a tiny nod, going over to the couch and sitting gingerly on it. Huey

could tell the Mountie was hurting. "You want an aspirin?"

"Please."

Huey would have been shocked by the acceptance of his proposal if he had any shock left in him. "Check out what else you're missing while I get the bottle for you." He came back a few minutes later with the water and pills to find Fraser putting things back into his pack.

"Just my wallet," he said sadly. "And the jeans they're in."

"I'll be back in a few. First, you wanna talk?" Fraser shook his head as he huddled on the couch. "I, uh, Fraser, I've known you longer than Ray. Maybe if you can tell me what exactly set him off, I could set him straight..."

Fraser answered, his words muffled against the arms he rested his head on. "He doesn't trust me anymore."

"Because he found out you laundered the money?"

Fraser nodded. "He says he doesn't know me anymore. I... I just want it to get better. Please make it better?" The Mountie's childish tone almost broke Huey's heart. Fraser had been through too much today. More than the average person could go through without breaking. He recognized the signs of imminent collapse in the Mountie's sad words.

"I'll try to talk some sense into him," Huey promised. "Why don't you take a shower and grab a bite to eat while I'm there, okay?"

Fraser didn't respond as he drew his knees even tighter against his body.

The drive to Ray's took Huey precisely sixteen minutes. Up on the last floor of the building, he didn't hesitate as he reached Ray's apartment. He knocked firmly.

"Who's there?" Ray called.

"Jack. Let me in." It took a moment before the lock was slid back and the door opened.

"Wha'd you want?"

"Fraser's wallet and jeans," Huey answered when he could see Ray. "And I wanna talk to you."

Ray actually paled. "He called you?"

"No. I found him walking on the street, crying. You know, you take the cake, Kowalski." Huey took a step into the apartment without being invited. "You find out your lover's the most loyal sonofabitch you'll ever run across in your life, and you kick him out."

"Jack--"

"Let me finish. I've known Fraser for three years. Seen it all. Liked him and respected him and hated him--loathed him--sometimes all at the same time. But one thing I never doubted about Fraser was his loyalty to Vecchio--his loyalty to his friends. Fraser finally told us the whole story today. That if he hadn't laundered that money, he couldn't have set Metcalf up, clearing not just him, but Ray, also. Do you know he also trashed Ray's house to get at a piece of evidence that would have put a nail in his coffin? Fraser did all that, went against everything he believed in, for a *friend*. Hell, he even tried to get two mobsters who threatened Vecchio to take one another out. Can you imagine what he'd do for you, his *lover*? You'd better make sure what you toss out is replaceable before you trash it, Kowalski. Now, give me his wallet, and take a day to think about what I said." Shocked speechless by Huey's outburst, Ray could do nothing but obey.

When Huey arrived at home, he found Fraser curled up on the fold out bed, sound asleep. There was a wet towel hanging in the bathroom and a dirty plate and knife in the sink, so he knew the Mountie had made himself comfortable. He suspected they'd be house mates for a while and was glad Fraser was willing to make himself at home in his apartment. It would make things so much easier.

Fraser looked so... sad as he slept. It was obvious he'd cried himself to sleep. Huey's heart almost broke. The Mountie had been through so much in the name of 'love' already. He didn't deserve this. Huey was surprised to find that he felt anger towards Ray on Fraser's behalf. Ray had such a short fuse. That combined with his poor self-esteem made him a walking time bomb for a blowup of this nature. Normally, Huey would be sure that Ray would eventually come around, but not this time. He understood Ray's shock at Fraser's confession, he knew it had rocked his own world that Fraser had been able to launder money for Vecchio but not steal Milk Duds. But that just made him a better man in Huey's book. Why couldn't Ray see that?

~*~

Fraser woke to the smell of coffee. He stretched cautiously, low moans escaping his throat as he forced badly bruised muscles. He hadn't had a bad night like that in a long time and he didn't feel the least bit rested. Huey gave him some privacy, not greeting the Mountie with coffee until Fraser had visited the bathroom, taken another shower, and dressed in his sweat suit.

"How many eggs would you like?" Huey asked, stirring something in a saucepan.

"Not hungry. Thank you," Fraser added as an after thought.

"One it is," Huey responded pointedly.

"I'm just going to stay here today, if that's okay, Jack," Fraser said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Sure, Fraser. As I said, make yourself at home. If you want, I've got cable and a decent movie collection."

"Thank you."

"Uh, Fraser, he loves you. He'll come around."

"I hope so."

~*~

As Huey was giving Fraser suggestions for passing the day, Welsh answered his telephone. It was St. Laurent. "They made bail," she informed him.

"They what?!"

"The judge had to set it. It's not like they're being accused of murder or anything."

"Dammit! You know what they're going to do!"

"I did my best to convince the judge, Lieutenant. The best she could do was set a high price. They met it. They're being released as we speak." Not bothering to respond, Welsh slammed the phone down, picking the receiver up again to dial Ray's number.

"This is my day off and it had better be good," Ray mumbled once he'd managed to figure out how to answer the device ringing shrilly in his ear. It had been a bad night for him, too. He had forgotten how empty a bed without Fraser was.

"Kowalski, they made bail. You and Fraser had better watch your backs."

"Fraser's not here." A pregnant pause.

"Where is he?"

"At Huey's. We had a fight."

"I see. I'll try him there."

"Don't bother. I'm going over there to talk to him."

~*~

After a long hot shower and three cups of M&M's sweetened coffee, Ray pulled on some clothes that didn't smell too rancid and headed out to Huey's. He still felt angry and betrayed. He'd just discovered a side of the man he considered his spouse that he had no idea existed. A side his lover had even gone so far as to pretend didn't exist. He truly believed his anger was justified. Besides, his internal voice tried to rationalize with his conscience, couples fight all the time. Good for stirring up the blood, bringing a freshness to the relationship.

As Ray pulled out into traffic, he did not notice the blue sedan tailing his GTO.

~*~

By the time Ray arrived at Huey's, he was feeling even more angry, rather than appeased. He wanted to have an all out fight with Fraser.

Why? his conscience kept on asking. Why must you hurt him?

So that he'll know how much it hurt me that he got hurt like this, he finally had to admit.

No, he never wanted to go through this again. He never wanted to see his Ben bloodied and broken like this. It had been bad during the Warfield case and he would never forgive himself for not being by Fraser's side, for not having predicted what Warfield would do. But what had happened the day before was produced from the dark side of Fraser. No matter what his motives for doing the initial exchange were.

It scared Ray that such a darkness could reside inside his Mountie. That he could love the sort of woman who would put him through that. This, Ray finally admitted, was what bothered him the most. That Fraser could have allowed himself to love such an evil person. Oh, Ray had always known about Metcalf, but never that she had driven Fraser to *that*. And what bothered Ray even more was that Fraser allowed himself to be dragged down to the lowest level he could sink.

Then, finally, Huey's words echoed in his mind. Ray knew he had to make a very important choice. Whether to let Fraser's revelation ruin their relationship, or to consider it just a blip in the road. Had to decide whether all their good moments made up for this very, very dark one.

~*~

When someone knocked on the door, Fraser chose to ignore it. He felt too sore to move and the couch was so comfortable. But the knocking became more persistent. Finally, the visitor spoke up. "Ben, it's me! Open up! We gotta talk!"

Ray? Ray was here? Was he forgiven then? Or had Ray come here to continue the fight?

"I'm coming!" he called, forcing himself to his feet. Fortunately, the door wasn't very far away. Unfortunately, Ray had just made an important decision in his anger.

"I don't know you, Ben," Ray greeted his lover when the door swung open. He didn't allow himself to become emotional over Fraser's haggard, battered appearance.

Fraser's heart sank. "Ray... How can I convince you that nothing has changed?"

"Everything has changed, dammit!" Fraser flinched at this. "This was like a whatcha call `em? An epiphany! Ben, I discovered that you have a price! How the hell else am I supposed to take it?!"

"Ray, please, I'm just a man. Vecchio was my best friend..."

"You've never done anything like that for *me*!"

"I've never been in a position to, Ray! And I hope that you'll never be faced with such a decision."

"Why Vecchio and not me?"

Anger finally flared up in Fraser. "Are you jealous, Ray? Is that it? Vecchio was my *best friend*. You're my *lover*. Can't you get that through that thick skull of yours?! It's *you* I want! I'd do *anything* for you! What can I do to prove it to you?" Fraser finally lowered his voice. "I miss you, Ray. I miss making love with you. I--"

"I still don't know you," Ray answered coldly, his words figuratively slapping Fraser.

Tears welled up in Fraser's eyes. "I guess I don't know you either, then. Never knew you, in fact." He tried to swallow the despair and pain welling up in him, but failed miserably. "So, is this good-bye?"

Ray nodded. "Yeah."

Fraser starred his lover in the eye for a moment before looking down. Wordlessly, Ray stepped outside.

He immediately regretted his words.

The bullet that came then prevented him from going back inside and making his world right once again.

~*~

Inside Huey's apartment, Fraser heard nothing. A silencer was just that.

But he could not ignore the loud *thump* against the door. Brushing away tears which had escaped his rigid control, the cop in Fraser forced him off the couch and out of his self-pity in order to investigate the noise.

Something leaning against the door tumbled backwards into the apartment once the Mountie had pulled the door open.

Fraser's blood ran ice cold as he gazed at Ray's bloodied, inert form. There was a small hole in his torso, just below the ribs on the right side.

"Ray!" Fraser cried, dropping painfully to his knees as his hands flew out to feel for a pulse. "Oh, thank you god!" he exclaimed when he found a pulse that was weak and thready, but there. "Ray! Can you hear me?" Fraser received no response. He bolted back into the apartment to call 911.

The cry of 'Officer down!' brought rescue workers faster than any combination of 'fire, murder, rape' or any other emergency. An ambulance was outside Huey's apartment, its crew racing upstairs, within three and a half minutes.

The paramedics worked quickly, giving Ray an oxygen mask to help his laboured breathing, as well as temporarily bandaging the wound. "You know him?" one of the EMT's asked as he took down notes.

"He's my husband," Fraser responded, his voice shaking with shock. "I don't know what happened!"

"You're going to have to stay here and wait for the cops I'm afraid."

"No! I'm going with him!"

"Sir, the ambulance will be full. You can come down once you've given the police your statement." As though on cue, a team from the sixteenth division pounded up the stairs. This time Fraser could not contain his tears.

"Please..." he begged. "I have to be there when he wakes up! Please!" A cop took over.

"Come on, Constable. Give us your statement and we'll drive you right over, after." Fresh tears flowed as Fraser admitted defeat."Okay." He watched helplessly as Ray's motionless form was transported out of the building and the ambulance wailed away.

The cop led Fraser back into Huey's apartment, motioning for the others to canvass the other apartments. Sitting on the couch, he pulled out a notebook and pen. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked.

Fraser shook his head. "No. I... Er... We were having an argument. Or continuing an argument. He stormed out. Moments later, I heard a thump, like a body dropping. So I went out to see what happened. And I found him." His voice choked up. "Can I go see him now?"

"We're just going to finish talking with the neighbours." A cold feeling of realisation settled itself in Fraser's gut.

"You think I did this, don't you?" The cop chose not to answer. "Look, couples fight all the time! I love that man out there, officer!"

"Constable, I'm just a cop. My job is to get the details. Then we let the DA sort `em out. We're gonna have to talk to your, uh, husband, when he wakes up. Then you can see him." Fraser's face became a mask of emotional pain.

"Just let me see him soon... Please?"

~*~

It was *hours* later that Fraser was finally allowed to go see Ray. The officer from the sixteenth who had taken his statement drove the Mountie to Cook County himself. He assured Fraser that Ray was all right, had given a statement, and that Fraser was clear of any suspicion.

"Who did it?" Fraser asked.

"He wanted to tell you himself." The knife in Fraser's gut continued to twist.

He rushed into the emergency room as soon as the cop had stopped the car, flagging down the first nurse he passed. "I'm looking for my husband!" he exclaimed frantically. "Ray Kowalski! Have you seen him?"

"Calm down, sir. Detective Kowalski is right behind that curtain over there and he's going to be just fine. The doctor's with him and will give you details."

"Are you 'Ben'?" the doctor asked as Fraser approached Ray's curtained off area.

"Yes. Can I see him? How is he?"

"He's all right, sir. It was just a minor wound. The guy who shot him had either a bad aim or a poor shot, I'm pleased to report. Detective Kowalski lost a lot of blood and is feeling very weak, but he's just fine. He dozed off again after giving his statement, but he should be waking up in a minute or two. I want him to stay here for a few more hours, to make sure he's okay, then you can take him

home."

"Thank you, doctor."

~*~

The vigil seemed interminable. But, finally, Ray's eyes fluttered open.

"Ray?" Fraser said quietly. "Ray, it's Ben. Can you hear me?"

"Ben?" Ray made out, his voice raspy. "What..."

Fraser clasped Ray's hand. "Ssh... I'm here, Ray."

"I'm sorry..." Ray persisted.

"I know you are, Ray. It's all forgiven." Fraser reached down and kissed Ray's cool brow. "I love you..."

"I love you, too... It was..."

"Who, Ray? Who did this to you?"

"Rubins... Rubins did this." Exhaustion finally overtook Ray. His eyes closed of their own volition as his breathing became shallower. A feeling of deep tenderness overwhelmed Fraser to be replaced by a seething fire of rage. Ray had never done anything to Rubins. All that had happened was between Rubins and Fraser. And, of course, Victoria. Ray should never have been caught in the proverbial cross fire.

I'll get him for you, Ray, Fraser promised. I won't let him get away with this.

Fraser gave Ray another light kiss before heading out to the nurse's station to ask for a pen and a piece of paper. He headed back to Ray's area to write his lover a letter.

It was a hard one to write. He had to make sure Ray understood why Fraser was going to do what he planned. He had to convey as much love and feeling as he could in a page when he couldn't even do it when he spoke.

Finally, after many aborted attempts, Fraser had a letter he was satisfied with. He folded it and carefully wrapped Ray's hand around it, so that his lover would know it was there the second he woke up.

~*~

A half hour later, Fraser arrived at his and Ray's apartment, coming to fetch the one thing Ray hadn't packed and that he hadn't thought to ask Huey to pick up.

It felt heavy in his hands, and warm.

But the bullets felt very cool as he loaded them into the chamber one by one.

~*~

He knew the CPD was combing the city in search of Rubins. He also knew Rubins would not be found by them. No, he was a clever crook, a career criminal, and Fraser would have to think like him to find him. Most cops had never crossed the line into a world Fraser was now too familiar with. He could find Rubins because for a fleeting time, he had been just like him.

Rubins would want an abandoned building in an abandoned part of town. A place where the most unsuspicious activity was usually the most criminal. Fraser played in his mind the sound of the last van ride he'd taken with Rubins, factoring in his own disorientation while mentally formulating a map of Chicago. There, all the clues finally fit together. Rubins was in the south west end of town. He now knew almost exactly where to go.

~*~

This part of town felt isolated and cut off from the rest of Chicago. Empty storefronts sat beside dying businesses. Spanish was heard more than English. If Rubins was hiding here, he'd have to come out for supplies at one point. Fraser was willing to wait the rest of his life for Rubins, but that didn't mean he couldn't help himself a tad. He went into each open business, asking questions in broken Spanish, giving the best description of Rubins he could. Fraser was shocked to discover that despite his uncanny ability to remember the most minute detail, Rubins' face in his mind was covered by shadows. He could never make up a sharp, crisp picture of him.

Finally, his luck won out in the early hours of a foggy morning. Only a mere seventy-two hours since he had last woken in Ray's arms. That life felt very far away. Now, there was only Rubins and him in the whole world.

A young man in a corner store swore he'd seen a guy fitting Rubins' description running down an alley between two buildings--one abandoned, the other lived in.

After paying the youth for his information, Fraser ran out into the street, racing in the direction the man had indicated until he found the alley off Cermack. Carefully, he edged his way down it, knowing that boarded up windows rarely were so. At the end, the alley seemed to stop, but there was a fence off it, to its right. Fraser scaled it without difficulty, adrenaline taking away the edge of pain brought on by his injuries.

He found himself on a cement threshold, a worn metal door before him. When he pulled the handle, the door gave way easily. He stepped inside, careful to close the door gently, so as to not announce his presence.

He had found it. The scent was so familiar. The thought was ghoulish, but Fraser could swear he could smell his own, long dried, blood amidst the dust. He made his way down a long, dark corridor, reaching a door which was partially open. Peering into the room, Fraser saw Rubins sitting on a chair, his back turned away from the hall.

Quietly, Fraser slipped into the room, burying himself in the dark shadows behind the door. He knew Rubins could not see him there.

He let out an eerie whistle which seemed an echo of the sound the wind makes in a snowstorm. "Who's there?!" Rubins called, whirling around.

"Constable Fraser," Fraser answered confidently, stepping out of the shadows, his thirty-eight caliber Smith and Wesson revolver trained on his intended victim. Rubins wasn't a stupid man. He knew that if he pulled out his own weapon, he was done for.

"How `bout you put the gun down, Mountie. We can talk this through."Fraser shook his head as a cold, almost inhumane, look flashed in his eyes. "This was between you and me--and Metcalf. My husband had nothing to do with it. You just made this intensely personal."

Fraser's voice was utterly flat. Rubins had never heard words more threatening.

"You won't shoot me. You're going to let me walk right out of here." The tone of Rubins' words undermined their choice. He was a very scared man.

This gave Fraser courage to continue. "So that you can come after Ray and me again?"

Rubins had the audacity to sneer. "Maybe."

Fraser's lips curled in a feral smile. "You see, I can't stand for that. I don't much care what happens to me, but I care deeply what happens to the people I love. I laundered money to protect my best friend. And I will kill you to protect my lover. Give me your cell phone."

"I don't have one."

"Give it to me!" Rubins' hands trembled perceptively as he dug into his pocket for the device. "Put it on the floor and kick it over," Fraser ordered. Once it was by his feet, Fraser slowly sank down to pick it up, always making sure his gun was aimed at Rubins. Once his fingers brushed against the phone, he snatched it and stood up again. "Any last words?" he asked, dialling a familiar number.

"I'll meet you in hell."

"Perhaps you will," Fraser answered, his voice suddenly calm once more. The person at the other end of the line finally picked up.

"Welsh."

"Leftenant, it's Constable Fraser. I'm at forty-four Cermack. I'm about to kill Rubins."

"Constable--" The line went dead.

A minute later, a new tenant of forty-two Cermack, still uncertain of what was normal and not for this neighbourhood, made a frantic phone call to 911.

"Someone next door just fired a gun! Three shots! No, I'm not hysterical! I haven't lived here long but I *can* tell the difference between a gunshot and a firecracker!..."

Fin