For unless they see the sky/

But they can't and that is why/

They know not if it's dark outside or light.

---

"Diefenbaker!" Ray kicked into a sprint, knowing there was no way he was gonna catch something with four paws on snowy grass but determined to give it his best shot anyway. He rounded the fountain, heart pounding and legs burning as he tried to keep Dief in view. Not easy when he'd left his glasses back at the fucking apartment and the sun hadn't even made it over the goddamn horizon yet. "Dief!"

He squinted, trying to find an extra burst of speed from Christ knew where as he saw where Dief was headed. Blurry but still obviously person-shaped, the guy on the top of the hill clearly hadn't noticed he had seventy pounds of wolf bearing down on him, otherwise he wouldn't have been just goddamn standing there like that.

"Diefenbaker!" And fuck, it was hurting to breathe. All those cigarettes as a kid and after the divorce didn't seem like such a smart idea now, did they, Kowalski? Still, he'd been trying to get fit slowly and - newsflash! - racing across a freezing park at oh-fuck-it's-early in the morning wasn't exactly part of the goddamn regime. He scowled at the still not-moving figure. Was the guy deaf or just stupid? "Damn it, Dief, wait up will you?"

Too late, the guy turned round, just in time for Dief to hit him square in the chest. They fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and paws, Dief yipping like a goddamn puppy the whole while.

Ray shook his head, slowing to a run then a jog as he drew nearer and realised that the guy wasn't screaming or threatening to sue as he'd expected, but rolling around in the snow with Dief and laughing. Freak.

Since they were occupied, Ray took a moment to wait for his lungs to stop burning and his eyes to stop with the weird spotty thing before speaking.

"Hey," he managed finally. "You okay, fella?"

The blurry guy looked up, pushing Dief away with a gentleness Ray hadn't expected before hauling himself to his feet. And now Ray could actually see him, he wasn't blurry at all. In fact, Ray might go so far as to say he was pretty damn cute: about Ray's height, dark hair, nice blue eyes... Crap, he wasn't supposed to be doing this anymore.

"Sorry about my dog." Dief growled softly, and Ray smirked. "Sorry, wolf, although you'd never know it from that display just now." He held out his hand. "Ray Kowalski, and this sorry excuse for a lop-, lu-, wolf is Diefenbaker."

The guy smiled, and Ray mentally revised his opinion from 'cute' to 'way out of your league, Kowalski'.

"It's nice to meet you, Ray Kowalski." Big hand, warm, dry, rough. "And you, Diefenbaker." The guy dropped to his knees in the snow and buried his hands in Dief's ruff. Dief moaned and licked the guy's nose.

Ray shook his head, laughing. "You are so fucking easy, Furface. Just wait until Vecchio hears about this." And woah, okay, what was that? Ray had seen people flinch before, but never anything like that reaction. The guy looked like Ray had just kicked him in the stomach. "Hey, you sure you're okay?"

The guy straightened up, gave Ray the fakest fake smile ever, and nodded. "Just a bit winded, that's all." He shook his head, like Dief shaking off snow. "Do you mind my asking how you came by an arctic wolf?"

Ray shrugged. "He was my room-mate's first. He had him when I met him, said he was taking care of him for a friend who'd brought him down from Canada."

"A friend?"

"Yeah." Ray studied the guy carefully. There was definitely something queer here, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. For a start, he'd only seen Dief pounce on someone like that a couple of times before, and both had been carrying pizza. And b, the guy looked awful familiar for someone Ray had never laid eyes on before. He shook himself. "Yeah, this guy, a Mountie, turns up at the station with the wolf in tow. Guess he decided to stick around, 'cause he and my room-mate - Vecchio - they became buddies. Real tight, from what everyone says." He reached down automatically to scratch Dief's ears. The wolf might be supposed to be deaf, but he got real tense whenever Ray and Vecchio talked about this. "Anyway, some robber chick from the Mountie's past turns up, shoots Dief here, kills her accomplice, then makes off with the loot. And the fucking Mountie goes with her." Dief growled again, and Ray crouched down to ruffle his thick coat. "I know, Dief." He glanced up at the guy. "He doesn't like to talk about it."

The guy had a weird look in his eyes as he crouched down to join them. "You talk to him like he's answering."

Ray smiled a little. "Yeah. Sometimes I think he is. Weird, huh?"

"Not at all, Ray." He scratched Dief's ruff, and Dief licked his chin. "He's very affectionate."

"Tell me about it. The first time I met him I was washing wolf spit out of my ear for a week." Ray grinned stupidly at the guy for a second, then realised he was fucking freezing and covered in snow and mud. "Hey, look. I need to swing by my apartment and get showered and changed and stuff, but how about coffee later? There's a great little place just the other side of the park, me and Dief go -"

The guy was shaking his head. "That sounds delightful, Ray, Dief, but I'm afraid I must decline." His gaze flickered to the side and a slight frown creased his face. "I have something I must attend to this afternoon, and I ought to..." His voice trailed off, and Ray swallowed his disappointment.

"Hey, no big deal. Some other time, huh?"

"I'll look forward to it." The guy straightened up, brushing the snow off his pants and giving Dief a final pat. "Until then, Ray Kowalski."

"Yeah. Good to meet you." Ray watched him walk away for a second before something occurred to him. "Hey!" The guy turned, and Ray gave him his most charming smile. "You never told me your name."

The guy raised a hand and scratched his eyebrow. "Ah, so I didn't. My apologies." He smiled. "Fraser Pinsent." A final gesture, like he was tipping his hat, and he was gone, striding across the snow.

Ray looked down at Dief, who barked a question. Ray sighed and shook his head. "I dunno, buddy. I just don't know."

---

The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit him before he even reached their door. Stella. She hadn't been there when he'd gone to bed the previous night, but she must be there now; Ray would know that roast anywhere.

He took a deep breath, casting Dief a look before unlocking the door. Dief gave him a look that was suspiciously like an eyeroll, then shoved past him to check on the pastry situation. If Stella had come by this morning, there was a chance she'd stopped at the bakery on her way and Dief knew she always factored him into her calculations of how much to buy.

Ray followed at a more leisurely pace. He'd gotten used to Stella hanging out at their apartment, weird as it was, but had no desire to have a deep and meaningful with her at this time of the morning, particularly not when he looked and - ew - smelled like he did.

"Morning, Stel."

Stella looked up from the coffee press, frowning as Ray wandered into the kitchen. "What happened to you?"

Ray shrugged, glancing down at his mud- and snow-soaked sweatpants. "Just been out for a run with Furface."

"Where'd you run to? Milwaukee?" Vecchio appeared behind him, towel draped round his neck and a just-got-laid smile on his face. At least Ray had been gone long enough that he hadn't interrupted the lovebirds this time. "You left hours ago."

"Like you care." Ray decided his need for coffee was greater than his need to be clean and helped himself to a mug before turning round to face them both. "But since you ask, there was this guy -"

Vecchio's gaze flickered down to Ray's wet knees, and he pulled a face. "If this is going where I think it's going, Kowalski, can you spare us the gory details?" He nodded at Stella. "Not that I care what you do, but there is a lady present."

Ray almost choked at the outraged look on Stella's face. Stella and him had been friends before they'd been anything else; she knew he liked guys before he did. And though he'd never cheated on her while they'd been married, there'd been plenty of 'breaks' while they were at college. He sometimes found himself wondering if they'd have stayed together if they'd have kept those breaks up once they said 'I do'.

"I'll tell you everything later," he stage-whispered, winking at Stella and laughing when Vecchio threw his towel at him. "I'm joking, okay? I said I wasn't doing that any more, and I'm not. But there was a guy. I stopped to talk to him after Dief knocked him to the ground."

"He did what?" Vecchio frowned down at Dief, who was still nosing hopefully at the sacks Stella had brought in. "How many times I gotta tell you not to let him do that to people? One of these days someone's gonna pull a gun on him. Or you."

Ray shrugged, taking a slug of his coffee and scratching his neck as he thought about the meeting. "I dunno, Vecchio. It seemed like Dief knew him or something. Not like he was just some random guy, y'know?"

Vecchio eyed him narrowly; Stella just snorted. "You wish. Although things are worse for you than I thought if the wolf is playing matchmaker." Her voice was hard, but Ray knew she got it, got him in a way no-one else did or ever had.

"Just waiting for you to see the light and come back to me, baby." He grinned, only half joking. Things had been easier when they'd been together.

"Guys, please." Vecchio was watching them, looking like he'd quite like to be sick. "Not before I've eaten."

Ray laughed and set his mug down on the side before pushing his way through towards the bathroom. The room was still steamy from Vecchio's shower, but he was aching enough not to care as he shucked his sweats and stepped under the spray. He could joke with Vecchio and Stella now, although it had hurt like hell when they'd first got together. Not jealousy exactly - they'd gotten past that pretty quickly. Ray didn't really want The Stella back and Vecchio knew that, although it didn't hurt to keep him on his toes. Made sure he treated her right, appreciated what he'd got and all that.

Nah, it had hurt because having them around was like a big, cozy, loved-up reminder of everything he'd lost. He could be happy for them now, but it didn't change the fact that being single sucked. His parents barely spoke to him, his brother had his own life, and any friends he might have had he'd pretty much lost when he came out. Sad as it was, Vecchio and Stella and Dief? Basically all he had. And if that wasn't the most depressing thing he'd heard, he didn't know what was. Christ, he was pathetic. What sort of loser comes out as queer then carries on chasing his wife?

Not that he even did that any more. Not really. And he'd found out the hard way that one night stands weren't for him, although the job made it difficult to meet anyone looking for anything more. Thing was, this guy in the park seemed different. Hot, yeah, obviously. Ray's eyes might not work too good, but he was damaged, not stupid. He knew pretty when a deaf wolf ran into it.

He tilted his head forward, letting the hot water soak into his aching muscles and calm him. Think, Kowalski, think. Where'd he seen him before? Ray knew he didn't know the guy, but there was something... like someone he'd seen in a cafe, or passed in the street a few times, or -

"Photo," he said out loud, just as Vecchio stuck his head around the bathroom door.

"You talking to yourself again, Kowalski?" Vecchio was nothing more than a fuzzy blur through the shower door, but Ray flipped him off anyway. "We're headed out over to Ma's - you wanna join us for lunch once you're decent, you know where it is, okay?"

"Yeah, great, greatness, thanks." Ray had no intention of going, even though he liked Ma Vecchio, and even though it was kinda sweet that Vecchio thought to ask. He knew there was no way he'd get through lunch without blurting out what he thought he knew, and that was just never gonna end well.

He heard the squeak of expensive shoes on the floor as Vecchio turned to leave. "Don't get too excited. It's just lunch." Sounds of clothing being picked up and dumped in the laundry basket. Jesus, it was like living with his mom. "Catch you later, Stanley."

Ray turned off the shower and fumbled around for a towel, drying himself roughly before wrapping it round his waist and heading for his bedroom. He paused outside Vecchio's room, debating for a second if he ought to check or if he should just accept the fact he was going crazy and move on. Seriously, what were the chances of the guy he'd met this morning being the guy all Vecchio's weirdest stories centered around?

He looked at Dief, curled up on the sofa and watching him sadly. He'd been out of sorts since they'd left the park; even Stella's pastries apparently hadn't helped as much as Ray'd thought they would. "Whaddya reckon, Furface? Am I going nuts?" Dief sneezed and just looked at him, and Ray laughed. The wolf had a point.

Vecchio's room was perfect, neat and tidy, just as he remembered. And just as he remembered, the photo was right there on the dresser. Ray picked it up and studied it, chewing his lip as the mystery guy from the park smiled back at him. A couple of years younger, a bit thinner maybe, and a lot more groomed, but there was no doubting it was the same guy. Ray stroked his thumb across the glass. Fuck, but he was beautiful. Didn't look like the kind of guy who'd screw over his partner for a murdering scumbag. Then again, he didn't look like the kind of guy who'd flirt with guys in parks, and Ray was pretty sure that's what he'd been doing. Which made one or the other of them a lying bastard, although Ray wasn't quite sure which.

"So what am I gonna tell Vecchio?" He glanced down at Dief, who'd followed him as far as the door but no further, not after the ring-ding/satin sheets incident. Dief whined and lay down, head between paws, eyes huge; this had to suck for him as much as it did for Vecchio, although maybe not as much as it sucked for Ray. He set the photo frame down, giving it one last glance before heading to his own room, ignoring the way his skin prickled and his gut ached. Maybe there'd be some pizza left in the fridge he could have for lunch.

---

"How the hell does a kid go missing and no-one notices?" Vecchio sounded weary and pissed off. Considering they'd spent most of the day talking with blind people with memory loss, that wasn't so surprising.

Ray shrugged. He remembered a time when he'd got upset about this shit, but now it hardly even goddamn registered, which yeah, that sucked. Some kid was lying on Mort's slab - the least he could do was put some effort into finding out why.

"He worked down on Wacker, right? Maybe we could try the guys down there, see if anyone knows his name."

Vecchio nodded, turning a hard left and cutting off at least half a dozen cars. "Good idea. I'll hang back, you can -"

"Talk to my people?" Ray shook his head, smiling. "You're such a jerk, Vecchio."

It was a bit early for the rent boys and hookers to be out, but Ray had worked Vice long enough to know which coffee shops they favored. The first one gave them nothing, but the second one turned up a cute little Latino kid with buckets of attitude and not a whole lot of smarts.

"Oh yeah," he said, nodding when Vecchio showed him the photo. "That's Crystal."

"Crystal?"

"Um, yeah. Think his real name's Johnnie or something. What'd he do?"

Ray rolled his eyes. "Lead poisoning." He cocked his fingers in the shape of a gun, just in case Einstein here didn't get it.

He got it. "Fuck." Einstein shook his head. "That sucks, man. I mean, it sucks anyway, but he'd just got a new job." He made a face, suddenly looking a whole lot older than Ray had initially pegged him. "A real one, I mean. Some place up north. He was talking about getting a visa an' everything."

"Canada?" Vecchio shot Ray a look, then made a note. "You know if he got the visa, filled out the paper work, went to the Consulate, any of that?"

Einstein shrugged. "Dunno, man. Wasn't like we were close or nothin'. We just shared the same -"

"Landlady, right?" Ray bared his teeth.

"Right." Einstein eyed him for second, then smiled. And Jesus, did Ray have a fucking sign on his forehead or something?

But Vecchio was standing, throwing some money at the kid and heading towards the door. "You've been real helpful, kid. Get yourself a good meal or something, okay?"

Ray hurried after him. "You know he's just gonna spend that on drugs, right?"

Vecchio rocked his head from side to side. "Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll spend it on a burger. Maybe he'll spend it on a beer. What the hell does it matter?"

"Okay. Who are you and what the fuck did you do with my partner?"

Vecchio just smiled. "Let's call it my good deed for Easter."

Ray narrowed his eyes. "It's February."

"Jesus, Kowalski, give it a rest will you?"

And that was it, something was definitely queer. Vecchio never rolled over like that, never just let Ray win. "Stella's pregnant."

"What?" Vecchio actually stopped walking and stared at him, his eyes almost out on stalks. "No! What the hell's wrong with you?"

"You're the one acting weird!"

Vecchio held his gaze for a moment, then sighed. "It's just this case, y'know? Makes me feel old. Like, what's the point of it all? We work our asses off trying to keep the city free of scumbags, and at the end of the day you've still got some kid dead in a dumpster."

Ray didn't point out that Crystal, Johnnie, whatever had been found in an alleyway. He was guessing that wasn't the point. "You're only just realizing this? Every time we lock up one piece of scum, another crawls out of the goddamn sewers to take their place."

"Way to be optimistic, Kowalski." Vecchio shoved him lightly. "My own personal ray of fucking sunshine."

"Har-de-har." Ray shoved him back. "You're a riot, Vecchio. You want sunshine, go talk to your sister."

"I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon." Vecchio shot him a pained look, and Ray grinned, lowering his head. He liked Frannie and he knew Vecchio adored her, but a conversation with her was a bit like bashing your head repeatedly against a very sweet and very annoying wall.

Dief was waiting for them when they reached the Riv - Christ knew where he'd been, but Ray was willing to bet there was a street vendor somewhere missing some merchandise - and they all climbed in together, Vecchio making threatening noises about the upholstery and Dief's digestive system.

They were more than half-way to the Canadian Consulate when Ray remembered he had some news. "I, uh. I saw your Mountie," he said quietly, half-hoping Vecchio wouldn't hear him over the sound of the radio.

Vecchio turned purple, and Ray wished he'd kept his big mouth shut.

"You're shitting me." Vecchio glared at him, all wild eyes and flushed cheeks. It was a good look on him, although not so much that Ray couldn't see he was about to crash the goddamn car. "Crap." He threw the car into a side street, slamming on the brakes before turning to look properly at Ray. "Tell me you're joking, Kowalski. Tell me this is some twisted fucking joke you and Stella cooked up or something."

Ray shook his head. "No joke, Vecchio. Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have told you." Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Vecchio's anger melted, just like that. He squeezed Ray's arm, patting it briefly before dropping his hand. "No, no. You were right to tell me." He sighed heavily. "D'you know where he's staying?"

"No. I just -"

Vecchio waved his hand. "Course you don't. What was I thinking? You weren't paying enough attention to what he was saying, not when you were checking out his -"

"Hey!" Ray twisted in his seat, ignoring the whine from Dief in the back. "Look, I know he fucked you over, but it's not my fault, okay? And whatever you think of me, I don't go asking the address of every random guy I meet in the street."

"Anymore." But Vecchio was smiling faintly.

"Fuck you, Vecchio."

"In your dreams, Kowalski."

Ray snorted a laugh. Fact was, Stella would have his balls if she caught him so much as looking at Vecchio, and they both knew it.

Another whine from the backseat made him look round. Dief was watching them both worriedly, and looked about ten seconds away from climbing into the front seat to check on them. Ray reached back and ruffled his fur. "S'okay, buddy. We're not fighting." Dief whuffed softly and licked Ray's ear. "Hey, not the ears! What have I told you about the ears?"

Vecchio chuckled quietly. "You know, he used to talk to the wolf like that. Benny."

Ray hadn't heard that name before, but he could guess who it referred to. "Yeah?" He thought about how Dief had reacted when he'd seen Fraser, how Fraser had commented on Ray talking to Dief. Must have been hard for him to just up and walk away like that, 'specially after not seeing him for so long.

"Yeah." Ray restarted the car, turning back onto the street that would lead them to that stupid little piece of Canada. "Only he'd be all 'really, Diefenbaker, remember your manners'. Crap like that." Vecchio's hands tightened on the steering wheel, his leather gloves creaking. "It just about killed him when Dief got shot. Couldn't believe he abandoned him for that Metcalfe bitch after all that."

Ray didn't say anything, just carried on fussing Dief. He knew how close the wolf had come to dying, knew there was still a patch on his shoulder where fur wouldn't grow through the scar tissue. It worried him now when Dief went for a check-up; he couldn't imagine seeing him seriously injured. And yeah, okay, so maybe Ray had some parenting issues that needed addressing, but whatever. He loved the stupid mutt.

Vecchio didn't seem to expect him to answer anyway. "I can't believe he came back," he said quietly, like he'd forgotten Ray was even there. "Bastard owes me a car. And a house."

Yeah, there was no way Ray was touching that one. He couldn't even begin to imagine how that conversation had gone down once Ma Vecchio found out, but he bet it hadn't been pretty. Losing your best friend, then your house, then being yelled at by your mom was pretty much the definition of suckitude.

"I didn't get his number," he said instead. "But I got the impression he was sticking around. He said he'd see us again, right Dief?" Dief whuffed in agreement.

Vecchio nodded. "Question is, where? I mean, everyone knew the Mountie, but who'd put him up after all this time?"

Ray shrugged, his gaze fixed on the view out the window. He had no idea where Fraser was, or what he was up to; he just knew he wanted to see him again.

---

If there was one thing worse than chasing down useless leads, it was writing reports about chasing down useless leads. Three days of talking to street workers and associated lowlife, and they were no further forward than they had been. Even having a name hadn't helped, and the Consulate info had got them precisely nowhere - no visa application, and no record of a 'Johnnie' or a 'Crystal' even having rung for advice. All Ray had to show for that phonecall was a headache from talking to that freaky Mountie they kept on reception to scare people off.

Ray put his head down on his desk, letting the noise of the bullpen wash over him as he tried to organize his thoughts. He didn't even have Vecchio to hassle him; lucky bastard had been called in to give some evidence over some drugs record anomaly or something. The shouting could be heard even with Welsh's door shut, but Ray wasn't worried. He knew those IA clowns of old - if they'd had anything solid, they'd have taken him in already, not be hanging around asking dumbass questions.

"He gonna be okay?"

Ray looked up sharply, blinking to clear the headrush.

"What? Oh, hey, Frannie." Ray still wasn't used to Vecchio's kid sister working here, and he certainly wasn't used to those scraps of material she called shirts. Queer he may be, but blind he wasn't. Jesus. What had she asked? "Um, yeah. Yeah, he'll be fine. Welsh won't let them take him down. 'Specially not for something like this."

Frannie nodded. "Yeah. You think this is one of those set-downs?"

Ray frowned for a moment. "Set-ups?"

"Up, down, over, under. What the hell does it matter?"

Ray held his hands up in defeat. "You're right, it doesn't matter, okay? And yeah, I think it is. A set-up, I mean." He turned back to his computer, trying to ignore the curve of Frannie's hip as she perched on his desk. "Why won't this thing print?" He stabbed at the keyboard. "Make it print!"

Elaine appeared behind him, calmly leaning over his shoulder and pressing a key.

"Uh, thanks." Ray smiled awkwardly. He picked the report up from the printer, signed it and handed it to Elaine. "You're gonna have to tell me how to do that before you go, Elaine."

"If I go." She looked worried, and Ray wondered if maybe he'd read this all wrong. Was there something going on he didn't know about?

"Hey, you've done nothing wrong. Those guys are idiots, don't let them get to you. They got nothing." Ray left out the part about why he knew this, the part where he'd worked for them a few years before. It had been a rough time, when things were on the outs with Stella, and he wouldn't have taken the job only he'd stupidly thought the extra pay might convince her to stick around.

Elaine looked at him oddly for a second, then smiled. "Thanks, Ray Kay." And yeah, they were good. Elaine had been one of the first people to talk to him when he'd transferred here, and even though he'd fucked up almost immediately by asking her on a date, she'd forgiven him enough to become friends. It sucked that she was leaving, but she was gonna make a great cop, and Ray was secretly looking forward to going to her graduation. He found himself wondering what she'd been like with Fraser. She must have known him - had they been friends? Had she thought he was hot? Had he thought she was hot? Ray shook his head; he seriously needed to find someone else to obsess about.

Frannie was still looking worried, but it looked like Elaine had it covered so Ray turned back to his reports. He wished he still had some of Elaine's enthusiasm for the chase, some of her, whaddyacallit, optimism.

But she was just a kid, and Ray, well... yeah, not even slightly a kid. Whatever ideals he'd had when he'd dropped out of college and joined the Academy were long gone, buried under too many years of bad guys and bad coffee. All he saw when he looked at these notes was a dead rentboy no-one cared about. Yeah, he probably had a family somewhere, but they'd probably thrown him out years ago. And if they hadn't cared enough to stop him becoming a fucking prostitute, what was it going to matter to them that the poor sucker was dead?

By the time he'd finished typing, it was all over. Vecchio was in the clear, Welsh was looking smug from some old score that he'd settled, and the IA guys were on their way home. Ray sauntered over as casually as he could and nudged Vecchio's shoulder.

"You okay?"

Vecchio shook his head. "Your concern is touching, Stanley. Really. It gets me, right here."

"Fuck off, Raimondo. You were never seriously gonna get canned." Ray grinned cheekily. "I left you your share of the reports to finish, by the way. I'm doneski."

He laughed as Vecchio swore at him, then laughed harder when Vecchio went back to his already clear desk.

"One of these days, Kowalski, I swear -"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Ray turned his attention to Welsh, who was watching them from the door of his office. "You gonna buy us all a drink, Lieu? Raise staff whosit, morale?"

Welsh shook his head, but Ray could have sworn that was a smile lurking around the corners of his eyes. "Joe's on Madison. Be there by eight, or the offer's off."

"Wouldn't miss it, sir." Ray sketched a salute, turning away before he could see Welsh's response. A few beers with the guys, a few hours thinking about something other than dead kids and cute ex-Mounties, sounded pretty much exactly what he needed.

---

"Hi there."

Ray opened his eyes, nearly falling over as he straightened up from his stretch, but still unable to stop himself grinning at the guy he now knew to be Benton Fraser. He'd been going over in his head what he was going to say to him if and when he ever ran into him again, but now he actually saw him all that went out the fucking window.

"Hi yourself." He shook his head, trying to clear it. This was the guy who'd screwed over his best friend, not a potential shag.

Fraser leaned down to scratch Dief's ears, his gaze never leaving Ray's face. "I wasn't sure you'd be here," he said quietly, gesturing vaguely at the park.

Ray shrugged. "Me and Dief are here most mornings I'm not working early. Trying to get fit, y'know?" He left out the part about how he'd been here every morning since that first meeting. No point in looking too desperate, especially when he wasn't. Much.

"You look just fine to me." And okay, yeah, the blush was cute, Ray could give him that. He'd almost have believed this Fraser guy didn't know what he was doing had it not been for the blatant way his gaze trailed down and back up Ray's body.

"Thanks." Hey, a compliment was a compliment, right? Even if the guy was clearly deranged if he thought Ray's skinny ass was something worth looking at. Whatever. That wasn't why he was here. "Look, Fraser." Ray took a deep breath. "I know who you are. I mean, who you really are."

Fraser blinked, but the rest of his face stayed neutral. Ray had to give him points for that. "Oh?"

Ray smiled tightly. "Gonna play dumb, huh? Okay, Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. You first came to Chicago -"

"Stop." Fraser's face had gone pale, his eyes wide. "That's not -" His voice cracked, and he ran unsteady fingers across his eyebrow. "Please, Ray. That's not who I am anymore."

"Nah, it's not, is it?" And oh yeah, there it was. That flicker of anger that had been there ever since Ray had told Vecchio, ever since he'd seen that pain that just wouldn't leave his friend no matter how much time passed. "You're Fraser Pinsent, the guy who abandons his job and his friends and his wolf and everything he has to run off with a murderer." His voice was getting loud, but he didn't care. No-one was around this early on a Saturday morning. Hell, Ray shouldn't be around this early on a Saturday morning. "Do you have any idea what you did? Any idea how many people you hurt?" Dief barked, and Ray glanced at him apologetically. "And wolves. Sorry, Dief." Dief whuffed, and licked Ray's hand. Apology accepted.

Fraser sat down heavily on a nearby bench. Looking at him properly, Ray could see he was shaking, really shaking. The hell?

"Look, I don't know what's going on with you, and to be honest, I don't really care." Dief growled softly and Ray nudged him with his leg, blushing as Fraser looked up sharply at the sound. Looked like the guy hadn't lost the ability to speak wolf. "You be who you wanna be, Fraser, y'know? Make your own kind of music, sing your own special song."

The skin around Fraser's eyes crinkled slightly. "Even if nobody else sings along?"

Ray laughed, shaking his head. "No way. You do not know that song." The little he knew about Fraser the guy - rather that Fraser the Super Mountie - said he was clueless about pop or movies or anything.

"If you say so." But Fraser was smiling at him, some of the color starting to come back to his cheeks.

"I do." Ray flopped down next to him on the bench. "I want to be mad at you," he said quietly. "I want to hate you for fucking with my best friend."

Fraser sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before turning to meet Ray's gaze steadily. "You know I never intended for Ray to get hurt. Ray Vecchio, I mean." He frowned slightly. "How do the two of you manage?"

Ray shrugged. "We do okay. A lot of folks call me Ray Kay or just Kowalski, so it works. Vecchio calls me Stanley, but only when he's pissed I forgot to buy milk or something."

"Stanley - oh. Stanley Kowalski?"

"Yeah, okay, Benton. I heard it all before."

"Sorry, Ray." Fraser didn't look sorry, but Ray could live with that. "Are the two of you... are you partners?"

Ray was pretty sure that wasn't what Fraser wanted to know, but he answered anyway. "Yeah." He considered leaving it there, letting Fraser think what he wanted. "He's my cop partner, nothing more, okay? He might have the prettiest green eyes in Chicago, but he's not interested in me. Just my wife."

Fraser frowned. "Your wife?"

"Ex-wife. Whatever." Ray sighed. "Still can't quite wrap my head around the fact she's not coming back, y'know?"

"I believe I do, Ray." And fuck, Fraser was looking like he was about to start bawling any second.

"She left you, huh?" Way to change the subject, Kowalski. And this was none of his goddamn business anyway.

Fraser huffed something that wasn't quite a laugh, his eyes going distant and cold. "Not exactly. She, ah. She died."

Jesus. Ray had not been expecting that. He'd figured this Metcalfe chick for one of those cockroach types, the ones the cops kept going after but no-one could get them to stay down.

"How?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Fraser scratched his eyebrow, some kind of nervous tic or something. "She had a termination. It, ah, it didn't go as smoothly as it should have."

And okay, either this guy was the king of fucking understatement, or there was a bunch of stuff he wasn't telling. Women didn't die from abortions, not in this day and age. Not unless they were - oh.

"I'm guessing the guy who carried it out ain't listed on no medical register."

Fraser nodded tightly. "Woman, but otherwise yes, that would be correct."

Dief whined and shoved his nose against Fraser's hand, groaning as Fraser scratched his muzzle. Ray wished it were as easy for him to give comfort, wished he knew what to say to make this suck less. And wasn't that a kick in the head - he'd come here thinking he'd yell at the guy, maybe threaten him a bit, make him sorry for what he did to Vecchio. God knew he had enough he could use, starting with acting like there was still a warrant out for his arrest, even though he knew full well there wasn't. Instead he was sitting here wanting nothing so much as to give the guy a goddamn hug.

"I ought to go." Fraser shook himself, giving Dief one last pat before standing up. "I didn't mean to - I'm sorry, Ray."

Ray jumped up, grabbing Fraser's hand to stop him. "You didn't. It was my fault, me and my big mouth. I suck, I'm sorry."

Fraser smiled faintly. "You do not 'suck', Ray. You've doubtless heard many things about me, and about Vic - about her. It's natural to be curious, and given your close friendship with Ray Vecchio, I'd expect nothing less."

Yeah. Curiosity, that was what it was. Nothing to do with the way those jeans clung to Fraser's ass or how broad his shoulders looked in that jacket. Oh yeah, Ray was all about the curiosity.

He realized he was still holding Fraser's hand and dropped it quickly. "Still can't convince you on that coffee, huh?"

Fraser hesitated, staring down at the space where their hands had been, and Ray could practically see the wheels turning. The genuine smile he got when Fraser finally looked up was worth the wait though. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do."

---

"You had coffee with him?"

Ray flinched as Vecchio slammed the car door. They seemed to be having most of their conversations in the Riv these days. "Did I just say that, or do I have a head injury?"

"I don't believe you, Kowalski. My partner turns up after all this time, and all you can think about is getting him into fucking bed."

"Hey!" Ray shot him a glare. "That's not all I'm thinking about."

Vecchio glared back for a second, then laughed, shaking his head slowly. "You are something else."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

"Don't push it."

Ray grinned; he'd got lucky the day Welsh paired him with Vecchio. Yeah, the guy was an ass, but he was cool once you got past all the bitching and moaning. Not many cops would move in with their openly queer partner and not give a rat's ass what anyone thought.

"So where's the Metcalfe bitch?"

"Dead." Ray scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Sounds like she had an abortion using a rusty wire or something."

"Jesus." Vecchio looked pale, and yeah, Ray got that. Hard to think of someone you hated getting sick, getting pregnant, being human. "How'd Fraser take that?"

Ray shrugged. "How'd you think? He didn't say much about it, but he seemed pretty cut up."

Vecchio sighed. "Yeah, he would be." He started the car, face tight with something that looked a lot like worry. "He talk about his parents at all?"

"Nah. We just - I dunno. Talked about Dief, hockey, dancing, stuff like that, y'know?"

"Figures."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Him not wanting to talk about his family." Vecchio shook his head, his eyes focused on something Ray was pretty sure wasn't the road. "He was never exactly talkative about his past, other than goddamn caribou stories and stupid stuff his dad had told him. But I always got the impression things had been kind of weird after his mom died, y'know? Like he'd have liked a do-over with his own family." He sighed again. "Guess that's what the thing with Victoria was about. He thought she was his last chance or something, even though he had every woman in the greater Chicago area practically throwing themselves at him."

Ray smiled humorlessly. "Every woman, huh?"

Vecchio shot him a sideways look. "And a few guys." He tilted his head slightly. "I never asked, and he never volunteered it. But if you're asking me does he swing your way, I'd have to say yes."

"Good to know." Ray couldn't help grinning at that. "Not that I'd go there, of course. Too weird."

"Why?" Vecchio had stopped at a light, and was looking at him properly. "Look, I don't know what he's like now, but Benny used to be a good guy. One of the best, y'know?"

"Oh yeah. Screwing over your best friend and running off with a murderer speaks real well of the guy."

Vecchio shook his head, pulling away as the car behind beeped him. "That's not what I mean. Look, I can't tell you I'm not pissed at him. And am I glad the bitch is dead? You bet. But that's me. You weren't even on the scene back then."

"No, I just came in and picked up the fucking pieces afterwards."

"For which I thank you. Hell, if it hadn't been for you I'd probably be six feet under by now." Dief whined and stuck his head between them. Ray had almost forgotten he was there, and Vecchio looked as though he had as well. "Sorry, Dief. I know you were looking out for me." He scratched Dief's muzzle before turning his attention back to the road. "I'm not saying I want you to hook up with him. I'm not saying I don't. I'm also not promising that if you bring him back to the apartment I won't beat the crap out of him."

Ray snorted. "I'll bear that in mind."

Vecchio smiled faintly. "That woman, she... she did something to him, y'know? She was fucking evil, I'm telling you. And I don't know how far she dragged him down before she died." He parked the car neatly in his regular spot, sitting for a moment before turning to look at Ray, a whole world of hurt in those eyes. "Just promise me you'll be careful, okay? Find out what he's up to before you get too involved."

"You got it." Ray curled his hand round the back of Vecchio's neck, squeezing lightly, then grinned. "You know, if Welsh looks out the window he's gonna think all the rumors are true."

"Fuck the rumors." Vecchio closed his eyes, letting his head fall forwards for a moment. "You think I could care less what those morons think?"

Ray let his fingers brush the close-shaved hair at the base of Vecchio's skull, wondering when in his life this... thing with Vecchio had become normal. If he was honest, he didn't care about the rumors either; they were what they were, and what other people thought didn't matter a damn. Still, even by Ray's standards this was weird.

"Come on, Vecchio. Daylight's wasting, and that paperwork ain't gonna type itself." He gave a gentle shove as he moved his hand away. Dief growled softly and Ray sighed. He was so screwed.

---

It was official: paper work sucked ass. Ray swore and reached for the whiteout for the thousandth time since they'd got back. Across the desk, Vecchio just smirked at him then carried on typing.

"I hate you."

"Right back atcha, Kowalski."

It wasn't so much the typing of the reports that bugged him, although Ray secretly thought there was a special place in hell reserved for the person who came up with that system. It was the sense that none of it mattered. Like Vecchio had said, you could work your ass off in this job, but at the end of it all there was always gonna be lowlifes. Maybe his dad had been right - you couldn't wash the stink of scumbags off.

He didn't have to look up to know Vecchio was watching him. "What?"

"You wanna get some food? Maybe pick up a sub, then get back over to Jackson, see if we missed something?"

Ray stood quickly, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on before Vecchio could change his mind. "Let's do it. Come on, Dief."

They almost made it out of the bullpen before they ran into Welsh.

"Ah, Detective Vecchio. Would you be so kind as to step into my office for a second?"

Vecchio rolled his eyes at Ray and carried on walking towards the door. "Actually, Lieu, we were just -"

"It wasn't a suggestion." Welsh eyeballed them both. "You too, Kowalksi. It'll save Vecchio the trouble of telling you later."

Ray sighed and trailed after them, wondering vaguely what they'd done this time. He was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to piss Welsh off lately, but there was no way to tell for sure.

"The door, Detective."

Ray slammed the door behind them, then strolled over to the sofa, dropping onto it and pulling his feet up to rest on the seat. Damned comfy sofa, although there was no way he'd tell Welsh that. He looked at Vecchio expectantly. He got called first: this had to be something he'd done, not Ray. Unless of course Welsh had seen them out of the window...

"Something I can help you with, Lieu?" Vecchio's voice was all attitude, but Ray could hear the worry underneath it. That brush with IA must have shaken him up more than Ray thought.

Welsh was silent for a long moment, long enough that Ray shifted his gaze to the older man.

"Take a seat, Vecchio," he said finally.

"No thank you, sir."

"Suit yourself." Welsh tugged at his tie, a sure sign he was uncomfortable about something. Ray let his head fall back; if whatever it was was bad enough to make Welsh uncomfortable, Ray wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.

He heard Vecchio clear his throat. "Might I ask what this is about, sir?"

"You may." A heavy sigh, like the weight of the world was on Welsh's shoulders. "Word has reached me that a certain Canadian of our mutual acquaintance is back in Chicago."

"Canadian, sir?" Oh, way to go, Vecchio. Rule one of being a good detective - act like you don't know nothing and people will spill a lot more.

"Don't act dumb with me, Detective." Of course, it didn't always work, especially not with Welsh. "You know who I'm talking about."

Ray had had enough. "I've seen him." He sat forward, fixing Welsh with his best tough guy stare.

Welsh didn't flinch; Ray wasn't sure why he'd thought he might. "I see. Well, that would certainly explain the touching little scene I witnessed from my window earlier."

Fuck. Ray opened his mouth to answer, but Vecchio beat him to it.

"I appreciate the heads up, sir, but it's okay. I promise I'm not going to do anything stupid."

Welsh nodded slowly. "I'm glad to hear it, Detective. I wouldn't want to think that a member of the Chicago PD was going around meting out justice on his own."

"Of course not, sir." Vecchio smiled slightly. "I can't promise we won't have words when I do see him, but I can promise I'll leave my gun at home if and when the conversation occurs."

"And you, Kowalski?" Welsh turned his attention to Ray, who shrugged.

"No problem here, Lieu."

"Good. That's... good." Welsh didn't look convinced, but it didn't matter. Ray knew Vecchio wasn't lying, and that was good enough for him. "Now get outta here, both of you." He waved his hand in the direction of the door. "And Vecchio? I mean it. I hear any reports of mystery Canadians turning up in ER any time soon, you'll be wishing I busted you to traffic. Are we clear?"

"As crystal, sir." Vecchio shot Ray a look. "I'll meet you by the car."

Ray eased himself up from the sofa, making a show of stretching lazily before heading for the door.

"Kowalski."

Ray turned, bouncing slightly as he met Welsh's gaze. Something about talking to him always made Ray feel like he was in a boxing match, even if it was one he'd most likely lose. "Lieu?"

Welsh held his gaze for a moment, then sighed. "Kowalski, it's none of my business what you do or who you see in your spare time. But when it comes to this one..." He ran a hand across his face, looking very old and very, very tired. It suddenly hit Ray how much Welsh knew about all of them. For some reason, that made him feel better.

"I got it, Lieu. I've heard all the stories."

"I somehow doubt that." He turned back to the file on his desk, picking it up and staring at it for a second before opening it. "There a reason you're still here, Detective?"

Ray fled.

---

The problem with sharing an apartment with Vecchio wasn't that he couldn't get away from work. Ray had humped the job long enough to know that some stuff stayed with you no matter what you did to try to get rid of it.

Nah, the problem was that Vecchio had gone and fallen for Stella and that he was a nice enough guy not to want to rub Ray's face in it. Which boiled down to Ray spending most of his evenings alone, watching whatever crap was on TV and fighting the wolf for sofa space. And after the day they'd had? Ray really didn't want to be alone.

Dief whined a question, looking at Ray with worried eyes. Ray shook his head.

"Wasn't nothing we could do, Dief. Someone don't wanna be helped, you can't help them." Even though it was fucking obvious the woman needed out, even though it was fucking obvious she was being used as a punch bag by her lowlife pimp of a boyfriend. Six hospital admissions in the last month! Jesus. Ray just hoped she saw the light before she ended up on Mort's slab.

Dief growled softly, nosing Ray's hand.

"You're right, sorry. Hey, wanna go for a run to the store? Beer for me, donut for you - whaddya say?" That got a bark - Dief was all over the wallowing thing until food was offered. Ray grinned and went to get changed into his sweats. He grabbed his wallet, stuffing it in the zipped inside pocket along with his keys before heading out, Dief hard on his heels. It was starting to get dark, but the streets were plenty busy as they headed towards the park, Ray automatically scanning for trouble as he ran. A young couple arguing caught his attention, but he passed close enough to work out it was just a domestic and moved on, keeping one eye on Dief's wagging tail far ahead.

The park seemed dark and quiet after the noise of the streets, and Ray had to squint to make out Dief disappearing into the bushes, chasing something small and furry that Ray didn't want to think about. There were a couple of dog-walkers up ahead, no doubt enjoying the slightly warmer evening. Ray ignored them and just ran, picking up speed as he reached the corner. If he ran fast enough, he'd stop thinking, stop feeling everything except the burn of his legs and lungs. Stop seeing that kid on Mort's slab, that woman with her black eyes, those hookers down on Wacker. Stop -

"Fraser?" Ray skidded to a halt and turned, blinking to clear the sweat from his eyes as he made his way back to the bench. "Jesus, are you sleeping here or what?"

Fraser laughed, his teeth flashing in the fading light. "Not quite, Ray, although I could ask you the same question. You do seem to be here rather a lot."

"Happy coincidence." Ray bounced on his toes a few times, throwing a few punches as he danced round the bench. "That and the fact my apartment's only eight blocks that way."

"Ah." Ray could feel Fraser watching him, feel the prickle of heat in his face that had nothing to do with the exercise and everything to do with that intense gaze.

"You wanna -"

"Yes." Fraser was on his feet before Ray had worked out what the hell the end of that question was, his hand burning Ray's arm as he pulled him closer.

"We should -"

"Probably."

Ray shook his head, his own hand coming up to grab Fraser's arm and oh, nice, only Ray wasn't doing this, he wasn't looking for this, he didn't want this. Except for the part where he was and he did. Fuck it.

Fraser's lips weren't soft at all, but they were warm and firm and he tasted like tea and french fries and burnt sugar. He opened right up, wrapping his arms around Ray and pulling him closer until Ray was lost in the soft folds of Fraser's beat-up leather jacket.

And this was stupid, Ray knew it was, knew all about the note in his file and the warning from Welsh. But he needed this, Jesus Christ he needed this.

"My apartment's just over there." Fraser eased back, his breath hot on Ray's skin. "We could - that is, if you want to. I don't want you to feel -"

"Fraser. Do me a favour?"

"I - ah, certainly, Ray."

"Shut the hell up."

"As you wish." It was dark enough by now that Ray couldn't see Fraser's eyes properly, but he could hear the amusement in his voice.

He stepped back, falling into step beside Fraser as they headed for the gate. Dief barked suddenly and nudged his leg, making Ray jump. "Christ, Dief! How many times do I gotta tell you not to do that?" Dief groaned loudly, and Ray snorted. Good to know someone still had a handle on the important things in life. "Hey Frase, do you mind if we stop by the 7-11? I promised Furface a donut and he's not letting me forget it."

Fraser stopped walking and crouched down to look sternly at Dief. "I'd hoped you might have grown out of this habit by now, Diefenbaker." Dief shook his fur and whuffed softly, and Fraser pursed his lips. "Yes, well, maybe just one won't hurt." He was blushing when he straightened up.

Ray grinned. "That's blackmail."

Fraser gave him a heated look. "You'd rather he make good his threat?"

"Nope." Ray ruffled Dief's fur and picked up his pace. "That's why I wasn't even going to try and deny him."

---

"Nice pad." Ray whistled appreciatively as he followed Fraser into the apartment. There was no way Mountie wages had paid for this place, all sleek and modern with expensive-looking furniture and fancy fittings. Somehow, not the kind of place Ray had imagined Fraser living, and wow, he hadn't even realized he'd thought about that until just then. He wondered if this had been Victoria's, maybe paid for with the stolen money. Jesus.

Fraser glanced around the place nervously, like he was noticing it for the first time. "Ah, yes, I rather suppose it is." He smiled, stepping closer to Ray. "It belongs to my friend, Mark. He agreed to let me use it, and I'm aware enough of my situation to know how limited my options are in Chicago."

Ray released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Fuck, he was going to have to stop doing this, assuming Fraser was out to screw him over. One stupid mistake didn't make a criminal, he knew that. He was just lucky Stella had never filed harrassment charges.

"Guess they weren't exactly laying out the red carpet at the Consulate, huh?"

"Not exactly." Fraser's smile faded. "I called them today, as a matter of fact. Just to see how much trouble I was in, precisely."

Ray knew the answer to that; he'd already checked it out, pretty much straight after their first meeting. The murder charges had been dropped practically overnight, but the bail-jumping was a different issue. If Fraser hadn't been a Mountie, the judge might have cut him some slack, but as it was he'd made an example. Still, it wasn't the worst thing to have on your record.

"Would you have wanted to go back if they'd take you?"

Fraser looked at him oddly. "I - I hadn't considered that, Ray. I suppose the simple fact of the matter is, I don't know how to be anything other than what I am. Was."

And yeah, Ray knew how that felt. There was a reason he was still humping his job after all these years, and it wasn't just that he liked the badge.

Dief whined, butting up against Ray's leg. "Sorry, buddy. Nearly forgot about this." He took the bags from Fraser, dipping his hand in to get the donut and coming up with - oh.

Fraser blushed, and wow, Ray hadn't known there was that much blood in the human body. That was some shade of red.

He grinned, tossing the box at Fraser before distracting Dief with a donut. "S'okay. I kinda hoped that's where things were headed as well." He pulled another box from the second bag, waving them at Fraser before taking a step forward. "I bought them when I was paying for the beer."

"I didn't notice."

"You weren't supposed to." Ray's hands were shaking as he dropped the supplies back in the bag, his pulse racing. Christ, what was wrong with him? It wasn't like he hadn't done this before. Casual, Ray Kay. Cool, like Steve McQueen.

Yeah, right. That hadn't worked when he was a kid, and it sure as hell wasn't gonna work now.

Fraser was watching him closely, blush fading. He cracked his neck, and Ray suddenly felt like he was corrupting an innocent.

"You haven't done this before, have you."

Fraser looked guilty. "Not for a while." He stopped, eyes flickering to the corner of the room for a second. "I'm sorry, Ray. I'm not very good at this."

Ray smiled. Somehow, knowing Fraser was just as freaked out as he was made it easier. "We could stop talking about it. That might help." He slid past Fraser, making his way over to the small kitchen and dumping the bags on the counter. "You want a beer?"

"I don't -" Fraser cleared his throat. "That would be lovely, Ray, thank you kindly."

Thank you kindly. Who talked like that? Ray grabbed two beers and headed for the huge couch by the window, flopping onto it and kicking his feet up on the coffee table before he remembered he wasn't in his own apartment.

He started to sit up, ready to apologize for being such a slob. But Fraser pushed him back down, sliding onto the sofa next to him and looking a lot more relaxed as he took the second bottle. God, he looked good in that outfit. He'd lost the jacket somewhere between the door and the couch, leaving only a dark blue v-neck sweater that should have looked girly, but instead looked amazing. Ray looked like a hobo in comparison.

"You know, one of these days I'm going to meet you when I'm wearing something nicer."

Fraser took a sip of his beer, his eyes crinkling as he held Ray's gaze. "There's something wrong with what you have on?"

Ray grinned ruefully. "Ratty sweats and smelly sneakers? Yeah, I'd say so."

"I think you look delightful."

"Freak." Ray nudged Fraser lightly. "Seriously, you think I'm attractive?" No-one ever claimed he wasn't a needy bastard.

Fraser nodded. "Very much so, Ray."

Oh. Cool. He sat forward, taking one last sip of his beer before setting it on the coffee table, then took Fraser's beer and put it next to it. Fraser watched him quietly, just the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips as Ray leaned in and kissed him as slowly and sweetly as he knew how.

Fraser moaned, low and needy, his arm curling around Ray's waist as he eased them closer together. His other hand came to rest on Ray's leg, warm through the fabric of his sweats, making the hairs on the back of Ray's neck prickle in response.

Ray brought his own hands up, cupping Fraser's face and stroking it lightly with his thumbs. Hardly any stubble, then soft, soft, Jesus, so fucking soft. He slid one hand round, his fingers threading through Fraser's hair. Christ, that was soft as well; Ray's must feel like straw, with all the goddamn bleach and hair products he used.

Fraser didn't seem to mind too much if it did. His hands were in Ray's hair, tilting his head to a better angle and fuck that felt good, strong fingers massaging his scalp, sending shivers down his spine and making him squirm against Fraser. It had been way too long since he'd done this, way too long since he'd been held and kissed and touched like someone wanted him and not just a convenient body. Way too long since he'd wanted to touch someone back like that.

They moved together easily, and it was like the earlier awkwardness never happened, like Fraser was reading his mind and that was great, that was absolute, one hundred per cent greatness. Ray never wanted to leave this couch. Ever.

Fraser broke the kiss, his face flushed and his lips shiny and swollen. "We should -"

Ray didn't want to hear the end of that sentence, whatever it was. Didn't want to think about work, about bad guys, about his big empty bed. He brushed Fraser's hair away from his forehead, and Christ, even that felt good, such a simple fucking thing. Somehow they'd ended up mostly lying on the couch, Ray pretty much squashing Fraser although he wasn't complaining. In fact, Ray was fairly sure that was Fraser's hand on his ass.

"What?" he asked, leaning back in and pressing his lips to Fraser's.

Fraser arched beneath him, his legs parting until Ray was lying between them. "I have no idea," he murmured, rocking his hips up as his hand slid down Ray's back.

Ray moaned into the kiss, shifting his hips until the pressure felt - oh God, right there. Fraser's hands were on his back, under his shirt, then dipping inside the waistband of his sweats and stroking and - damnit, the stuff was miles away, over on the kitchen work surface and Ray really didn't want to stop, but there was no way...

"Stay. Right. There." He jumped up, nearly tripping over Dief in his haste to get to the kitchen. "Not a word," he muttered, shaking his head as Dief made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

By the time he got back, Fraser had kicked off his boots and was lying back on the sofa, drinking beer and looking like a fucking centerfold. Ray swallowed heavily, then slapped his own face and kicked off his sneakers before crawling back on top of Fraser.

"Hi," he murmured, straddling Fraser's hips and gazing down at him.

Fraser grinned and offered him the beer. Ray shook his head, watching as Fraser lifted the bottle to his own lips and drank. His lips were wet when he lowered the bottle, and Ray leaned down to kiss him, tasting the hops and barley and what-the-fuck-ever else beer was made from.

"Do that again."

Fraser obliged, holding some of the beer in his mouth this time so that Ray could share it, which was kinda gross but also really fucking hot. Ray heard the bottle landing on the floor, heard the beer emptying out onto the floorboards and wondered vaguely if he ought to do something. But Fraser's hands were on his ass, pulling him closer, and Fraser's tongue was in his mouth and really, Ray just didn't care that much about the floor. He fumbled in his pocket for a second before finding the lube and pressing it into Fraser's hand, feeling the hitch in Fraser's breathing as he finally caught a clue.

Then Fraser was pushing up into the kiss, his warm hands sliding Ray's shirt up and off. His hands were soft, only slightly callused on what Ray guessed had been his trigger finger when he'd been a cop.

Ray tugged at Fraser's sweater, breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over his head then leaning back in. And God, that was so much better. Fraser's chest seemed huge and solid against his scrawny one, although Fraser wasn't complaining which was either totally cool or totally weird. Ray honestly wasn't sure which.

He lifted up enough for Fraser to tug down his sweats, gasping as Fraser's lips touched his belly. They shifted awkwardly as Ray kicked his pants the rest of the way off, then Ray sank back down, pushing his hands between them to fumble with Fraser's jeans.

Fraser's hands were big and sure against Ray's body, his fingers slick and cool as he pressed inside. Ray groaned loudly, his body tensing for a second before accepting the intrusion. Whatever doubts he'd had about Fraser's virtue were gone; the guy knew what he was doing, and Ray could not have been happier about it.

The sound of a foil wrapper being opened made him shiver. Jesus, talk about your Palof-thingy response. He cupped Fraser's face, kissing him deeply as Fraser pushed into him, unable to stop the involuntary intake of breath. He always hated this part, that first feeling of too much, too goddamn much, even though he knew it didn't last.

Fraser had flopped back against the cushions, his hands burning where they clutched Ray's hips. Ray went with it, shifting into a better position and - fuck, this was all going to be over embarrassingly quickly if he didn't do something.

But Fraser had that covered as well, apparently, bringing one hand up to curl round the back of Ray's neck and drawing him into a long, slow kiss. Fraser's mouth was warm and wet and Ray found himself chasing the taste of beer again, only this time he was trying to get past it, trying to find the taste of Fraser underneath it all.

His legs were starting to tremble with the awkwardness of their position, so he moved, sitting up and tugging on Fraser's arm until Fraser got the message and pushed Ray onto his back. And oh yeah, that was better, lying on the cushions, his legs wrapped around Fraser's hips and his hands clinging to Fraser's shoulders. Fraser looked good from this angle, and yeah, okay, so he looked good from pretty much every angle Ray had seen him but whatever. Didn't make it any less true.

Ray let his head fall back on the arm of the sofa, shivering as Fraser dragged his lips down to kiss and lick Ray's throat. The guy seemed to have some sort of oral fixation going on, and Ray was all over supporting that, even if it meant getting teased by Vecchio tomorrow.

"Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser lifted his head, gazing down at Ray worriedly.

Ray raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"I'm not sure." Fraser's stubble was scratching against his, the sound bypassing Ray's brain and going straight to his dick. "I expected you to be more -"

"More what?" Ray pulled back enough that he could see Fraser was blushing. "You thought about this?" He moved his hips slowly and deliberately, grinning when Fraser moaned in response.

"You. I - I thought about you." Fraser dropped his head, his breath warm against Ray's collarbone. "How you'd feel, what you'd sound like - God - how you'd taste..."

Ray slid a hand up to Fraser's neck, stroking the soft curls there. "Reality not measuring up to fantasy, huh?" He tried to keep his voice light, but the look in Fraser's eyes when he lifted his head told him he hadn't quite managed it.

"Where the hell did you get that idea?" Fraser kissed him, slowly, deeply, and Ray was helpless to do anything but kiss back. "This is so. Much. Better."

And yeah, Ray had to agree with that, especially when Fraser changed his angle enough that Ray felt sparks all the way down to his goddamn toes. He made a noise that might have been a whimper and held on, meeting Fraser's movements and kissing him until they were both breathless with it and the kiss became little more than desperate gasps against each other's mouths. The feel of denim was rough against his foot as he slid it down Fraser's leg and back up; somehow he'd forgotten that Fraser still had his jeans on, and that was way hotter than it had any right to be. He clutched Fraser's shoulders and thrust up hard against his stomach, crying out his release seconds before he felt Fraser come deep within him.

He fell asleep with Fraser's arms around him and Fraser's breath warm and damp against his shoulder.

---

"Okay, first things first. I need coffee, and by that I mean actual coffee from a real coffee house and not that stuff from the break room." Vecchio picked his coat up and was headed out the door before Ray even got as far as the desk. He turned round and trailed after him, glancing back to make sure Dief had seen where they were going. "Second, we got a new case. Another prostitute, another alley, although this one's female."

"The alley?" Ray was having a hard time keeping up, in all senses.

"You're hilarious, Kowalski. Maybe when I'm done laughing you can explain to me just what the hell that thing on your neck is."

Ray bristled. "Don't tell me you never saw a hickey before, Vecchio."

Vecchio snorted, then grabbed Ray's arm and pulled him into the stationery closet.

"What the fuck?" Ray shook him off, tugging the light cord and fixing Vecchio with his best glare. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"What the hell's wrong with me? I'll tell you what the hell's wrong with me. I come into work this morning to discover you haven't been seen since last night. So I ring the apartment. No answer. I go over to the apartment, and there's no sign of you, no sign of Dief, and all your running stuff gone." Vecchio paused for breath. "Would it have killed you to leave a message saying where you were?"

Ray stared at him. "Jesus, Vecchio. I'm buying you decaff when we get to that coffee house."

"That's all you have to say?" Vecchio sagged back against the shelves, and wow, he looked really freaked out. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have yelled at you. I just -" He sighed heavily. "Oh, I dunno. Forget it."

Ray eyed him for a second, then leaned forward and hugged him. Vecchio hugged back briefly, then slapped his shoulder and shoved him away.

"Come on. Coffee. You're buying."

It probably said something about their relationship that nobody except Dief gave them a second look when they exited the closet. Ray nudged Vecchio as they walked towards the car.

"You were worried about me."

"Stanley..."

"You were totally worried about me. Do you know how long it's been since someone worried about me?"

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it."

Ray grinned. "I think it's cute."

"Christ." Vecchio shook his head, unlocking the Riv and climbing in. "I forgot how fucking annoying you are when you get laid."

Ray held the seat forward for Dief, then settled into the passenger seat, trying his best not to look like he was uncomfortable. "Hey, look -"

"You were with him, weren't you?" Vecchio was staring at his hands on the wheel. "Fraser."

"Vecchio -"

"It's okay." Vecchio shot him a tight smile. "Really."

Ray snorted. "Yeah, I can see that." Thing was, he didn't want to talk about it. Not just because it was Vecchio, but because - and Jesus, Ray couldn't even believe he was thinking this - it was new. Fragile. Like if he talked about it or joked about it, Fraser might disappear as suddenly as he'd appeared.

Vecchio was looking at him like he'd gone nuts, and Ray realized he had a sappy smile on his face. He scowled, but it was too late.

"You really like him, don't you?"

Ray snorted. "Yeah, I really, really do. D'you think he likes me too?"

Vecchio shook his head. "Well, you know what they say about girls who wear glasses, Stanley." He grinned, and Ray grinned back. They were okay.

"Look. You wanna get dinner with us tonight? I'll call Fraser, you call Stella..." Ray trailed off, blushing. A couple of dates and one night in the sack, on the sofa, whatever didn't make him and Fraser an 'us'.

But Vecchio was nodding. "That's not a bad idea." He rubbed the back of his neck, then smiled at Ray, a real one this time. "Somewhere with music. And I mean real music, not that crap you listen to."

Ray bristled, then nodded, letting the jibe go. "I can do that."

---

The crime scene guys were already there by the time they picked up Vecchio's coffee and got over to Munroe. Ray ducked under the tape, nodding at a couple of the investigators as he passed.

He stopped a couple of feet from the body, a couple of glances telling him enough. Young, white, dressed like a prostitute: the female version of the other kid. Fuck.

"Someone going after hookers?" he murmured, turning his back on the body and fixing his gaze on Vecchio.

Vecchio rolled his eyes. "Ya think, Kowalski?" It had been a while since they'd dealt with a serial killer, but two bodies in two weeks couldn't be coincidence, surely.

"Could be unrelated," he said, just to be a dick.

"Yeah." Vecchio crouched down to take a closer look. "You got a time of death yet?"

Ray couldn't see, but he could imagine the pissed look on the ME's face. "I left my crystal ball in my other pants, Detective."

"Yeah, well, soon as you can, yeah?" Vecchio glared at him as they started back along the alley. "Not a word, Kowalski."

Ray grinned quickly, then shook his head. "You ever wish you worked in a different division?"

"All the goddamn time." Vecchio nudged him. "Why? You thinking about going back to Vice or something?"

"God, no." Ray's job sucked ass, but nowhere near as much as going undercover as drug dealers and prostitutes had. "You?"

Vecchio shrugged. "I'd like my job a whole lot more if it didn't involve dead kids."

"Yeah." He stopped walking, staring at the ground by his feet, then crouched down, rummaging in his pocket for an evidence bag. "You read the autopsy report on that other kid, Vecchio?"

"Course I did." Vecchio crouched down. "Ugh, that's disgusting." He pulled a glove out of his pocket, picking up the discarded condom and dropping it into the bag Ray held out. "And it might be nothing to do with this - could have just been one of her other customers, or someone else completely." He marked the bag anyway, walking back far enough to hand it off to one of the CSIs.

Ray stuffed his hands in his pockets, head down. "And the other kid was a rent boy, so any signs of rape -"

"Probably just got noted as sexual activity." Vecchio kicked an empty beer can, swearing as it skittered across the alley. "Christ, we're not looking for a murderer, are we? It's a fucking rapist. These two kids were an accident."

Ray grabbed his arm. "Let's get back to the station, yeah? Talk to Mort, re-read the files on that other kid. See if there's been anything else, any open cases on rapes." But there wouldn't be, Ray knew it. Most cops didn't even investigate rapes involving hookers. Occupational fucking hazard, they called it, and yeah, maybe they were right.

"Times like this I miss Benny."

Ray stopped and stared at Vecchio. They'd been working together for over two years, and he'd never once heard Fraser's name mentioned in the middle of a case. Not like this. Stories about Fraser had filtered out over drunken nights in bars, or over pizza at home, or dinner at Ma Vecchio's. And yeah, Ray had read the files, knew that Vecchio and Fraser had been a hell of a team. But he'd thought that Vecchio liked him, thought they'd formed a partnership of their own. Hell, he thought Vecchio respected him.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

Vecchio rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Calm down, Kowalski. I didn't mean it like that."

"No?" Ray stepped closer, getting in Vecchio's face. "How the hell did you mean it then? 'Cause from where I'm standing, it sounded a hell of a lot like you were wanting your old partner back." He shook his head angrily. "You know what? Screw you, Vecchio. I'll make my own way back." He spun on his heel, setting off down the street without waiting for an answer. Fucking Vecchio thinking he was no good at his fucking job. Who the hell did he think he was?

He spun at the touch of a hand on his shoulder, raising his fist before he saw who it was.

Vecchio looked at him skeptically. "You gonna hit me, Kowalski? Go ahead. Come on." He folded his arms, waiting as Ray snarled but lowered his fist. "That's better. You ready to goddamn listen now?"

Ray narrowed his eyes. "Depends. You gonna try and tell me I can't do my job again?"

"No, and if you'd been listening in the first place, you'd know that's not what I'd said then either, you idiot." Vecchio sighed loudly as Ray opened his mouth to argue. "Did I ask for audience participation in this explanation? Didn't think so. Now shut your mouth and listen to me." He waited until Ray did so. "Okay. First thing you need to know - Benny was a damn good cop, okay? Yeah, he was a certifiable nutcase, but when it came to actual detecting? He left you and me in the dirt."

Ray scowled. "You're not making this any better, Vecchio."

Vecchio shook his head impatiently. "You're missing my point. Benny lived around here. He knew all the hookers and the trannies and the hobos, and he'd have been able to take one look at that girl and tell who she was, where she was from, what her goddamn GPA had been in junior year, which would have made our job a damn sight easier. That's what I meant when I said I missed him."

"He lived around here?" Ray raised his eyebrows. "And you let him?" He thought about the apartment Fraser was using and how that hadn't quite fit. This part of town didn't seem right either.

"Oh yeah, I selected the apartment personally." Vecchio shook his head. "I tried to tell him, okay? But he liked it. Like I said - certifiable." He smiled slightly. "You should know that if you're gonna be seeing him."

Ray looked away, cheeks burning. He ought to call Fraser, check if he wanted to go on what amounted to a double date with Vecchio and Stella tonight. With a bit of luck he'd say 'no'.

"Thanks for the tip," he said dryly, glancing back over at the crime scene guys. No-one was paying them the least bit of attention, which was probably a good thing. "Back to the precinct then, yeah?"

Vecchio nodded, looking tired. "Yeah," he echoed. "Let's see what Mort has to say."

---

A lot of things had changed in the years since Ray had joined the police. Hell, Ray had changed; but one thing had stayed the same. He hated going to the morgue, hated the smell of dead bodies, hated everything about the place - except Mort. Ray kinda liked him, even if he avoided him as much as possible.

"What the fuck is he listening to?" he demanded as they neared the bottom of the stairs, something loud and operatic drifting up to meet them.

Vecchio snorted. "Trying to broaden your musical horizons, Kowalski? It's called opera: it's what cultured people listen to rather than that ear-rot you like."

Ray grinned humorlessly. "Har-de-har. You're a real funny guy, Vecchio." He held the door open, letting Vecchio through ahead of him. "Hey Mort," he said loudly, keeping as far back as possible.

Mort looked up from the - ugh, body he was working on, his face breaking into a huge smile as he saw them. "Why, hello!" He beamed at each of them in turn, making no move to turn the music down. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, gentlemen?"

Vecchio glanced at Ray, then nodded towards one of the drawers where Ray knew they kept the stiffs. "That kid from the other day, Mort. The rentboy?" Mort nodded, and Ray took a step further into the room, keeping his gaze on anything other than the table.

"Yeah. We uh, we wanted to know if there was any sign of um. You know. Forced sexual activity." Ray winced slightly, hearing how dumb it sounded as he said it.

Mort looked surprised. "You think a prostitute was raped?" he asked, standing and walking over to his desk. He picked up a file, frowning over the contents before handing it to Vecchio, who was nearer. "There was bruising on the upper arms - here, see?" He gestured to what Ray guessed must be a photo in the file. "Given his occupation, it would be difficult to say which, if any, of his sexual encounters was unwelcome. But the bruising would imply that one of his customers at least felt the need to restrain him."

Ray shook his head impatiently. "Is that enough to say he was raped though?"

"Possibly, possibly." A thoughtful look settled on Mort's face. "I wonder..."

"What?" Vecchio was starting to look annoyed now as well.

Mort smiled and tapped the side of his head. "I should have realized this at the time." He held his hand out for the report, flicking through it before handing it back to Vecchio. "You see these marks around the young man's neck? This was caused by some kind of rope - a thin cord, perhaps, like a skipping rope." He shook his head. "I assumed that this was evidence of how he'd been killed, but..."

"But what, Mort?" Ray was seriously gonna lose it in a second. He needed to get out of here.

"Well. It is my understanding that some gentlemen find it pleasurable to... constrict the airflow when they -"

Ray winced. "Yeah, got it, thanks Mort." He frowned. "So wait, you're saying he did this to himself?"

Mort shook his head. "Is possible, I suppose. But the marks on the young man's fingers would seem to suggest that he struggled with the cord. That, and with the bruising..."

"Some fucker did it to him." Vecchio slammed the file shut, looking like he wanted to hurl. Ray knew how he felt. "Thanks, Mort. Look, there's another one headed your way - you let us know if you spot any similarities, okay?"

"Of course." Mort smiled and gave them a cheerful wave, turning back to the table as they left. The sound of his singing followed them even as the door shut. Ray shook his head, smiling slightly: there was a guy who enjoyed his work way too much.

"So what are we looking at?" He glanced over at Vecchio, seeing the tightness around his eyes. "Some freak show who gets his rocks off tying people up, right?"

Vecchio nodded slowly. "But why prostitutes? I mean, there are clubs you can go to if that's what you're into. And I'm not saying I like it, but doing it in a club has to be a lot safer than doing it in an alley with some hooker."

"Maybe that's part of the kick." Ray shrugged; he'd given up trying to understand how creeps' brains worked years ago.

"Yeah, maybe." Vecchio veered left into the break room, grabbing a cup of coffee and nearly falling over Dief, who'd been hassling the sandwich guy while they'd been downstairs. By the smug look on the wolf's face Ray was guessing he'd been successful. "Watch it, wolf breath."

Ray crouched to scratch Dief's ruff. "I was gonna suggest we went to the park for lunch, with the hotdog vendor." He smiled as Dief's ears perked up. "But I guess you must be full now, huh?" Dief grumbled, tail drooping, and Ray laughed. He wondered if Fraser had done this with Dief - the thing with the donuts suggested he had.

When he looked up, Vecchio was watching him, eyes dark with worry. "What?"

Vecchio shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking about that kid." He frowned. "Hey, did you ask Fraser about tonight yet?"

Ray pulled a face. "Yeah, on my super-secret psychic phone." He straightened up, grabbing a cup of his own and pouring some stale coffee. "We just spent the last two hours together, Vechhio - did you see me call him?"

Vecchio laughed, face clearing like that shadow had never been there. "Okay, okay. I'm gonna head out and see Stella, yeah? I'll be back in an hour - try to have made a decision by then, Kowalski." He downed his coffee, wincing at the taste, pitching the cup in the trash before leaving without waiting for Ray's answer.

"Make a fucking decision. Jesus." Ray finished his own coffee - and yeah, it was as disgusting as it looked - and threw his own cup away. "C'mon Dief. I'll buy you a hotdog."

---

The park was busier than he'd been expecting; Spring had finally sprung, and people were out and about on their lunch hours, making the most of it. Ray watched as Dief charged at a small group of ducks, laughing at his look of surprise when they started quacking and splashed into the water.

He made his way over to the hotdog vendor, hand fiddling all the while with his cell phone. Why was he putting this off? It'd had been good with Fraser last night, and this morning. There was no reason to feel nervous about calling him, other than the fact he'd never done it.

Taking a deep breath, Ray pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled, waiting impatiently for Fraser to answer, and hoping he hadn't remembered the number wrong.

"Hello, Mark Smithbauer's cellular telephone, this is -"

"Hey, Frase." Ray couldn't stop himself grinning at the sound of his voice. "You always answer your phone like that?"

There was a pause, then a low chuckle. "Well, yes." Fraser sounded a little embarrassed, and Ray grinned wider. "I'm not terribly used to having a cellular telephone of my own, although strictly this one doesn't belong to me, it belongs to -"

"Mark. Yeah, I got that, Fraser." Ray felt his smile falter. "Um. Look. I was wondering - are you free tonight? I mean, no problem if you aren't, and it's not a big thing, just, uh... "

"Ray. Ray. Ray!" Fraser's voice got progressively louder, and Ray shut up. "Are you asking me out on a, ah. On a date?"

Ray scrubbed his hand through his hair, watching as Dief tried and failed to pounce on a pigeon. "I guess?" He could feel himself blushing. "Only it wouldn't be just us. Vecchio wants all of us to go out for a meal." He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable 'no'. When it didn't come - when no answer came - he opened his eyes again. "Uh, Frase? You still there?"

"Yes, Ray." Fraser sounded shaken. "May I just ask, please - by 'all of us', do you mean yourself, me, Ray Vecchio, and your ex-wife?"

Ray wrinkled his nose. When you put it like that, it did sound pretty much like the worst suggestion in the history of the world. "Uh, yeah." He lowered his head, watching the skitter of small stones as he walked. "Pretty lame, huh?"

Fraser chuckled again, low and throaty, and Ray blushed deeper. God, what was wrong with him? He seriously had to stop acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. "I must confess it sounds... intriguing, Ray. And I was hoping that you'd, ah, want to meet up again." There was the sound of something clinking in the background, like Fraser was stirring a drink or something. "Though I must also admit that I had somewhat selfishly hoped it would be just the two of us."

And oh yeah, Ray was all over that. "I can tell Vecchio no," he said.

"No, don't do that, Ray." Fraser sounded more serious now. "I realized as soon as you mentioned his name that I would be forced to face my past sooner or later. It's as well to get it over with. And truthfully, I would like to see him again."

"You sure?" Ray wasn't convinced.

"Absolutely." He heard Fraser swallow; definitely a drink. "What should I wear?"

Ray chewed his thumbnail, trying to think where Vecchio might choose. Knowing him it would be somewhere fairly smart. "Uh... not jeans. You got any smart pants? Maybe a sports jacket?"

Fraser cleared his throat. "No, but I'm quite certain Mark will have. I'll find something, I'm sure."

"Great. Greatness." Ray found himself grinning stupidly again. "I'll uh. I'll pick you up, okay? Say about eight?"

It probably wasn't possible to hear a smile on the phone, but Ray was pretty sure he could anyway, even before Fraser spoke. "I'll look forward to it, Ray."

He ended the call, looking around somewhat dazedly. Unsurprisingly, Dief was waiting impatiently by the hotdog cart, and Ray hurried over to join him before the vendor got too annoyed.

"Food, then back to work," he told him sternly. Dief gazed at him unblinkingly, then snorted, unimpressed by Ray's attempt at normality. He accepted the hotdog though, inhaling it like he hadn't been fed in weeks. Ray ate his only marginally more neatly as he started heading back to the station, wondering vaguely what the hell he was gonna wear. "I am such a fucking loser," he muttered, canning the end of his lunch as he left the park. "C'mon, Dief. Let's get at 'er." The sooner he got back to work, the sooner he could stop thinking about tonight.

---

"You're sure about this?" Ray tugged at his collar, clearing his throat as he turned to face Fraser. He'd dressed smartly, yeah, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Fraser frowned. "About what, exactly?"

Ray waved his hand vaguely. "Y'know. This. The uh, date thing. With Vecchio."

"I'm going on a date with Ray Vecchio?" Fraser's frown deepened.

"No!" Ray shook his head in frustration - seriously, how dumb could one guy be? - before noticing the sly look on Fraser's face. "Bastard."

That earned him a smile, and Ray felt a knot inside him loosen. Maybe tonight wasn't such a godawful idea. He leaned across the seat, pressing his lips to Fraser's in a chaste kiss. It wasn't quite dark yet, but the parking lot was empty enough to chance it.

Fraser hmm'd softly, his hand coming up to curl around the back of Ray's neck as he deepened the kiss. Ray resisted for all of ten seconds, then relaxed, sighing into the kiss, bringing his own hand up to cup Fraser's jaw, letting his fingers brush Fraser's clean-shaved cheek.

"We have to, uh -" he murmured, breaking the kiss and gesturing towards the boat. Trust Vecchio to choose a fucking floating restaurant.

"I know." Fraser sat back reluctantly, his gaze still focused on Ray's mouth. "The, ah, the river cruise isn't long, is it?"

Ray shook his head. "Nah. Couple hours at most." He grinned cheekily. "Why? You got something else in mind?"

The look Fraser gave him was enough to melt goddamn icefields. "Yes, Ray. Several somethings, in fact."

"Uh." Ray blinked stupidly, feeling his face flush as he swallowed heavily. "Right then." He fumbled for the door handle, nearly falling out of the car in his haste. "Let's uh. Let's go."

The band were still tuning up as the waiter showed them to their seats. It had been years since Ray had been on one of these cruises; Stella had liked them, but Ray always found them kind of uncomfortable and pretentious. There were always politicians and Chicago royalty on board, which of course was exactly why Stella liked them, and probably Vecchio too.

He felt Fraser tense like he'd seen a goddamn ghost, and looked around to see what had spooked him. Vecchio and Stella were sitting at one of the tables by the railings, deep in one of those couple-y conversations, heads bent together and oblivious to their surroundings. They hadn't even noticed Ray and Fraser yet.

"Not too late to change your mind," Ray murmured. Fraser shot him a warm smile, visibly relaxing as he caught Ray's hand and gave it a slight squeeze.

"I'll be fine, thank you, Ray." His gaze drifted back to Vecchio. "I deserve whatever he throws at me."

Vecchio looked up as if he'd heard them, eyes widening as he looked at Fraser. Ray tried to read the expression on his face - this was his best friend after all, and they'd lived and worked together for a long time. But he couldn't. He glanced at Stella, reading her face easily; she was as worried as he was. Fuck.

"Hey Stella." Ray leaned across to give her a kiss. "Nice dress." He glanced back at Fraser, still standing there like a fucking cardboard cut out. "This is Fraser. I don't think you guys know each other."

Stella held her hand out for Fraser to shake, and yeah, there it was, the Mountie manners were just too strong for him to ignore a woman.

"Nice to meet you, Fraser." Stella smiled tightly, her gaze flicking between Fraser and Vecchio.

"Likewise, Ms Kowalski."

"Oh God, Stella, please." Stella's smile widened. "I think this evening is awkward enough without dredging that particular history up as well, don't you, Fraser?"

Ray laughed. Leave it to Stella to cut right to the chase. He slung his arm around Fraser's shoulders, forcing him to move. "She's right, Frase. Come on, let's sit down. Maybe Vecchio'll recover the power of speech if we're sitting down."

"Screw you." Whatever had been going on in Vecchio's head for the last couple of minutes seemed to have fixed itself, and he stood, finally, moving around the table until he was right in front Fraser. Ray took a step closer, inserting himself between them. "Back off, Stanley. I'm not gonna hurt your boyfriend." His eyes crinkled as he said it, and then he was flat out grinning, throwing his arms around Fraser and hugging him hard. "It's good to see you, Benny."

Fraser blinked at Ray over Vecchio's shoulder, looking as surprised as Ray felt. Of all the reactions he'd been expecting, this wasn't it.

"It's good to see you too, Ray." Fraser's arms came up, returning the hug awkwardly. "I... I missed you."

Vecchio released him, stepping back and sitting back down with a glance at Stella. "Yeah, me too, Benny. Me too." His face darkened. "I guess Kowalski told you about the house."

Fraser paused half-way to his seat, his eyes sad as he met Vecchio's gaze. "No, but I surmised what must have happened. I'm sorry you got mixed up in the whole thing, Ray, and I'm sorry your family suffered as a result."

Wow. Ray glanced at Stella, then back at Fraser. The guy wasn't gonna apologize for running off, wasn't apologizing for any of it, other than the fact Vecchio got hurt.

"Not your fault, Benny. She twisted you, dragged you down with her."

But Fraser was shaking his head, face all serious. "I know you want to believe that, Ray, but it's not true. I, ah. I was in love with her. I know what she did and I know what she was, but that doesn't change the fact that I knew exactly what I was doing when I went after her." He sat, casting Ray an apologetic look. Jesus. The guy meant it.

"So what, you thought you could change her or something?" Vecchio looked angry now. Confused and angry. "You thought the lying and the stealing and the murdering were just minor character flaws that you'd be able to overcome?"

Fraser shook his head. "I can't explain it, Ray. I just... I had to try. It felt like I'd been given a second chance."

And yeah, okay, Ray got that, he got that so fucking well. But this wasn't his fight, wasn't his history.

The band had started playing while they were talking, something slow and easy, little more than background music. He stood, holding his hand out for Stella to take. "You wanna, Stel?"

She frowned, glancing between Vecchio and Fraser, then nodded sharply. "Why not?" She grinned, stepping into his arms like she'd never fucking left. "Leave our menfolk to it, hmm?"

"You're real funny, Stel." Ray couldn't help smiling as he held her lightly, leading them into a simple waltz. He could feel Fraser watching them, feel the tension radiating from their table even as he closed his eyes and let the music sink into him. There wasn't anything he could do about Vecchio and Fraser; he just had to let them sort through it themselves, and hope there weren't too many goddamn pieces to pick up at the end of it.

Thinking about it was giving him a headache, so Ray stopped thinking and just danced, losing himself in the light touch of Stella's hands on his shoulders, the quiet rhythm of the music. This was easy - no betrayal and no anger. Just him and Stella and the music. When had it stopped being this simple? Ray really couldn't remember.

The touch of a hand on his arm made him jump, and he whirled round. "What the fuck -" He stopped, realizing it was Fraser and Vecchio, apparently done with talking and ready to dance. Ray kissed Stella on the cheek, only lingering a little before catching Vecchio's eye and winking. "Try not to tread on her feet."

"Fuck off, Stanley." Vecchio was smiling though, his eyes drifting closed as he waltzed Stella away.

Ray watched them for a second before turning to Fraser, running his hand through his hair nervously. He didn't have a problem with dancing with guys, but he suspected most of the citizens of Chicago wouldn't feel the same way.

Fraser smiled slightly, leaning close, his hand resting on the small of Ray's back. "We could dance later," he murmured, breath warm on Ray's neck. Ray just nodded, leaning slightly into the touch as they made their way back to the table.

---

"I wanted her to love me all the way."

Ray blinked sleepily and lifted his head to look at Fraser properly. He could barely see him in the darkness of the room, just a blurry sillhouette against the window. The rest of the evening with Vecchio and Stella had passed more or less without incident, and Ray and Fraser had headed back to Fraser's apartment, barely making it inside the door before the kisses and touches crossed the line into public indecency.

"Huh?" he managed, then wished he hadn't as the blurry shape tensed. "Hey." He crawled out of bed, not bothering to pull his shorts back on before padding across to loop his arms round Fraser's waist. "You ready to talk about her?"

He felt Fraser take a deep breath then release it slowly, relaxing against him. "I'd had girlfriends back home, growing up. They'd been lovely, delightful even, and I'm sure they've gone on to make some man very happy." He leaned his head slightly against Ray's. "Or some woman, I suppose. It never occured to me to ask, which now I think about it -"

"Fraser." Seriously, this guy had the attention span of a bug. "Get to the point."

"Sorry, Ray." Fraser's hand came up to pet Ray's hair, then dropped back down to his arm. "By the time I met Victoria I was quite bitter, I'm afraid. You see, I'd fallen quite badly for one of my fellow cadets at Depot, and it - well. It didn't end well. So I'd more or less convinced myself that I'd end up alone."

And yeah, Ray knew that feeling, knew it so fucking well. "What was his name?" he asked quietly.

Fraser tensed, then turned his head to give Ray an awkward kiss. "Steve," he murmured. "How did you know he was a -"

"Call it a hunch." Ray tugged at Fraser's arm until he turned, then kissed him properly. "So what happened?"

"With Steve?" Fraser settled his head against Ray's shoulder.

"If you like. Or with Victoria." Ray kissed his ear, feeling kinda dumb. "It's your story, buddy."

He felt Fraser smile against his neck. "True enough."

Ray waited for Fraser to continue, swaying slightly and tapping out a gentle rhythm on Fraser's back, his shoulders. He snorted softly; this was the dance they didn't get on the boat.

Fraser seemed to be thinking the same thing, his arms looping round Ray's shoulders in the position beloved of high school kids everywhere. He kissed Ray slowly and sweetly, humming some tune Ray didn't recognize as they swayed, one hand sliding up to play with Ray's messy hair.

"So?" Ray prompted, pulling back. He could spot a delaying tactic when he saw one - not that he had a problem with the kissing, of course.

"Steve broke my heart," Fraser said quietly. "I'll spare you the details, but I really was in very bad shape by the time I left Depot. Emotionally speaking, that is. Physically I was the fittest I've ever been, no doubt due to all the running I did when Steve and I... when it ended." He stepped away, walking over to the bed and clambering back in. Ray watched him for a second, then followed, settling himself up near the headboard, Fraser all warm against his side.

"Then what?" This was gonna take a long time if Fraser kept stalling.

Fraser shifted against him, moving so that his head rested on Ray's shoulder again. "Then I started my first posting. I threw myself into my work, and it was very rewarding. Being a peace officer in the far north was what I'd always wanted, and it didn't disappoint."

Ray kissed the top of his head. "You were lonely, weren't you?"

He felt Fraser nod. "Exceptionally lonely, Ray. I'd lie awake at night, exhausted from my work, but unable to settle my mind sufficiently to sleep." Fraser sighed. "It was around that time that I first discovered the meaning of... well. I, ah, believe the common term is, ah, 'sympathy fuck'."

Ray smiled into the darkness. The guy could do it, but he couldn't say it without stuttering and blushing. Ray wondered what it said about him that he found that completely adorable.

"Been on the receiving end of a few of those in my time," he murmured. Mainly from Stella, if he was honest with himself, but Fraser didn't need to know that.

"I find that hard to believe." Fraser took a deep breath. "Anyway, that's how it continued for the next few years. I'd move to a new posting, form an, ah, attachment with someone or another, but invariably they would move on, or someone would find out and they would decide I wasn't worth the risk..." He turned his head enough to kiss the hollow of Ray's throat. "I'm not, you know. I'm very difficult to live with."

Ray snorted. "Everyone's difficult to live with, Fraser, buddy. Anyone who tells you different is a liar." He thought about the fights he and Stella had had over the years. "You know, my marriage only started falling apart when we stopped being difficult to live with." He'd never really considered it before, but he could feel how true it was as he said it. "Stella and me, we used to fight like wildcats or something. We always made it up in the end though. Then one day we just... stopped fighting. I can't remember who walked away the first time, but one of us did, and it was game over after that."

"You still love her." It wasn't a question, but Ray nodded anyway.

"Yeah. Dumb, huh?"

Fraser lifted his head, sitting up and gazing at him in the darkness. "Not at all, Ray. You have a very loving nature, so it's hardly surprising that you would have difficulty letting go."

"Difficulty letting go." Ray huffed a laugh. "Yeah. Try 'stalking', Fraser. Stella says I never crossed the line, and I guess we're friends now, but for a while -" He broke off, embarrassed. Fraser didn't need to know all this crap.

Fraser was still looking at him steadily. "Your relationship wasn't what you thought it was," he said quietly, almost to himself. "You had a perception of what you were to each other, and when reality didn't match up to that fantasy, you refused to accept it."

Ray nodded slowly. Somehow he didn't think they were talking about him and Stella anymore.

"Because you couldn't handle the thought of being alone?"

"Yeah." Ray leaned forward, squinting at Fraser's face, trying to read his expression. It didn't work. Ray was half-blind during the day; at night he had no fucking chance. "That's what it was with Victoria, huh? You were in love with the idea of her, only the real person -"

"Was a murderer and a liar." And wow, okay, that was honest-to-God anger in Fraser's voice. Ray didn't need his eyes to work that out. "I kept telling myself it was all circumstantial, that she'd been set up, manipulated, used." He laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that had no fucking business coming from Fraser. "I guess I was the only one being manipulated."

And that was enough; Ray couldn't stand hearing any more. "You didn't deserve any of this, Fraser," he murmured, crawling into Fraser's lap and kissing him. "You fell in love, you got your heart broken. You fell again, and same thing happened. It's not your fault, Frase. It's not something you did." He pressed Fraser back against the pillows, kissing him all the while.

Fraser shook his head, and Ray could feel the dampness on his cheeks. "Everyone I love leaves me."

"That's not true." Ray propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at Fraser. "You said you got hassle when people on your postings found out you were queer, yeah? How much worse would that have been if you'd been shacked up with another Mountie?" He felt Fraser still beneath him, knew he was being heard. "Sounds to me like Steve was trying to protect you. And Victoria, in her own scumbag way, sounds like she at least attempted to shield you from what she was doing. Did she ever actually involve you in anything?"

"No. I just couldn't leave well enough alone. I needed to prove she wasn't who everyone said she was."

"There you are then." Ray leaned down, aiming for Fraser's nose but missing and kissing the corner of his eye instead. "And Vecchio stuck around, didn't he? He's mad as hell at you, but he didn't leave you." He thought, trying to put the pieces together. "How about Mark? You and him...?"

Fraser paused, and Ray could practically feel him thinking. "Mark and I... we weren't ever serious. We were friends, and we, ah, slept together on one occasion. But otherwise, no, there was no 'me and him'."

Ray nodded, warming to his theory. "So it sounds to me like you have a lot of people who want to take care of you, Frase. Even when you make it difficult for them." He tilted his head, thinking back to something Vecchio had said. "Your mom and dad - they died, right? So that's hardly them 'leaving you'. Not through their own choice, anyway."

"I know." It was barely more than a whisper, and for the first time Ray thought he got it. Fraser might be a man on the outside, but on the inside he was still a confused little kid, desperate for attention.

"You've got to let it go, Fraser." He leaned down, kissing Fraser gently.

"And you, Ray?" Fraser's hands were in his hair now, his breath warm against Ray's lips. "Can you let it go?"

Ray thought about his job, his life. About the case they were working on, about those poor kids who barely registered on the crime statistics, let alone with him. About the scumbags out there in the city, including the one that had killed two prostitutes and gotten away with it so far.

"Yeah." He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but if it involved being with Fraser, it couldn't be so bad. "Yeah. I think I can."

---

It was early enough that the precinct was still quiet when Ray got there, laden down with bags of pastries and a tray of the good coffee. He was in a good mood, even though he hadn't hardly slept - for good reasons, as well as the bad. Talking to Fraser had been cath -, caf-, helpful, and although they hadn't talked about what was gonna happen next, Ray still felt like a man with a plan.

First things first though - he had to make it up to Dief. He made his way over to his corner, unsurprised to find Vecchio already working, and equally unsurprised to see Dief's nose sticking out from under the desk.

"Morning," he said brightly, setting the tray of coffee down on the desk and winking at Vecchio. "Hey, Diefster. How you doing, buddy?" He knelt down, still clutching the bag of pastries.

"He's sulking," Vecchio told him, taking one of the coffees and sniffing it appreciatively. "I told him you got a new boyfriend, but he's not convinced."

Ray glanced around the bullpen, but it was just them. Not that he cared what people thought - he could just do without Dewey being an ass.

"Sorry I didn't come home last night, Dief." Ray fished in the bag, producing a pastry and holding it out for Dief to sniff. "I stayed over at Fraser's."

Dief eyed him narrowly, before inching out just enough to grab the pastry. He swallowed it in one gulp, gazing at Ray suspiciously.

"Playing hardball, huh? Okay." Ray sat back on his heels, opening the bag to peer inside. "Well, I guess maybe Frannie might like that extra pastry I bought..."

Dief whined a question, his ears flicking.

"You can smell him on me, huh?" Ray sniffed himself, and tried not to feel dumb over the fact he was having this conversation with a deaf half-wolf. "Yeah, the other night wasn't just a one-time thing. I guess you could say we're, um, seeing one another." A low growl from Dief. "No, he's not gonna run away again. I don't think so, anyway." He could hear Vecchio chuckling into his coffee. "Fuck off, Vecchio."

"Bite me, Stanley."

Dief had wriggled his way out from under the desk by this time, still watching Ray cautiously. Ray frowned. "What the hell's the matter with him? I thought he liked Fraser?"

Vecchio sighed. "He does. He just doesn't want to get shot again."

"Jesus." Ray handed the bag to Vecchio, kneeling up so he could bury his hands in Dief's ruff. "That's not gonna happen, Dief. Never again. Trust me?" Dief licked his nose, and Ray laughed. "I'll take that as a yes." He hauled himself to his feet, throwing Dief another pastry before taking a seat opposite Vecchio. "That the file on the hookers?"

"Yeah." Vecchio rubbed his eyes, looking tired as he shoved the file across the desk. "I've been staring at it for an hour. You take a look."

Ray flicked through the file, trying not to look too closely at Mort's photos. "Same markings as the first kid," he murmured, skimming the ME's preliminary report. He reached the page of notes from his and Vecchio's talks with the other local kids. Same old story - runaway, no-one knew her last name, probably didn't have any family or if she did they didn't care. No known address, but her friend reckoned she'd just gotten a job - wait. "The Canadian Consulate."

Vechhio looked up, frowning. "What the hell are you babbling about, Kowalski?"

Ray threw the file on the desk, leaping to his feet and pacing back and forth. "The guy! With the kids!" He flailed his arms about a bit to make his point. He'd known they were missing something, and there it was, right in front of them. "Both of them had applied for jobs with some I dunno, polar bear packing plant or whatever the hell it is, up in the northwest areas. So they'd gone to the goddamn consulate to get a visa or whatever the hell it is you have to do." It was so fucking obvious, Ray couldn't believe he'd missed it. "Come on, Vecchio, we gotta go talk to the Canadians."

Vecchio was on his feet and in front of Ray before he made it half-way to the door.

"What?"

"Think, Kowalski. We go charging in there, rattling cages, kicking heads..." He grinned, and Ray snorted. "We do that, and we lose our advantage. Come on, I know you got a brain under all that fluff you call hair."

Ray kicked the floor, grudgingly admitting that Vecchio had a point. Not out loud, of course. "Least I got hair," he muttered, grinning when Vecchio smacked him round the head. He made his way back to the desk, throwing himself down in the seat and kicking his feet up on the desk. "So what we gonna do? Wait for another hooker to get dead?"

"Yeah, that's a great plan, Kowalski. Get the hookers off the street by letting some scumbag kill them? Inspired."

Ray bared his teeth. "I don't see you coming up with any ideas, smart-ass."

Vecchio shrugged, swirling his coffee before downing the remains. Ray reached over for his own cup; he had to be having a bad day if he'd forgotten about coffee.

"I could go undercover."

Ray snorted. "As a hooker?"

"As a Mountie."

"Nah." Ray shook his head. "They know you at the consulate, or at least some of them do. It'd never work." He paused, draining his drink. "I could do it though."

Vecchio looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. "You think you can pass as a Mountie?"

"I think I can kick your ass."

"Whatever, Stanley. You know, Mounties are pretty smart -"

"You saying I'm stupid? I swear to God, Vecchio -"

"Smart as in neat, dumbass. Jeez."

"Oh. Yeah." Ray thought about Fraser and smiled. "I got someone who can help me with that."

Vecchio's face darkened for a split second, then the look was gone. "Yeah. Yeah you do."

The phone rang, cutting off Ray's next question. "Kowalski," he snapped, reaching across the desk to grab a pencil as dispatch rattled off a message. "Got it, thanks." He hung up, turning to Vecchio. "Looks like we got another one."

"Another body?" Vecchio stood, reaching for his holster.

Ray shook his head. "Nope - a live one. Young girl down at the hospital. Some guy interrupted the attack, called 911 and took off after the bad guy. Didn't catch him though - dispatch says he's at the emergency room with the girl." He pulled on his own holster, pausing only to gran a notebook and pen. "Hopefully he'll be able to give us a description."

---

"I might have guessed." Vecchio stopped walking suddenly, causing Ray to crash into his back and drop his cell.

"What the -" He crouched to pick it up, then looked up, scowling. "Fraser?" Ray glanced at Vecchio who was looking - yup, pissed as hell. "What are you doing here?"

Fraser smiled warmly, and Ray nearly fell over. He stuffed his cell in his pocket, straightening up hurriedly, hoping Vecchio hadn't noticed. Some hope.

"Well, Ray - and Ray - I was passing by when I heard the young lady, Alex, shouting and -"

"...jumped in to save the day, just like always." Vecchio smiled tightly. "Well thank you kindly, Super Mountie, but we've been somehow managing to fight crime without your help just fine for the last couple of years. So if you'd give your details to my colleague here -"

"Ray -"

"...not that you need to of course, since you two have been doing the horizontal mambo for -"

"Ray!" Now Fraser looked pissed, and wow, that was a whole new look on him. Ray folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, watching with interest. "My relationship with Ray Kowalski is none of your business, and I'd thank you not to refer to it again in that manner. I understand that you are angry with me, and rightly so. But if you can put aside your feelings on that matter for one moment -"

Vecchio shook his head. "No, Fraser, I can't. I can't put aside my feelings, and you know why? Because you don't get to do this anymore. You don't get to swoop in with your licking stuff and your 'please ma'am', 'thank you kindly'. I am a good cop - no, I'm a great cop - and I can do my job without you."

Fraser looked like he'd been slapped, and Ray took a step towards him, eyeing Vecchio warily. "Look, you two. I don't know what this is about, but there's a frightened kid in there, and someone should go and take her statement." He looked between them, then sighed. "Guess that'll be me then. Can you guys at least go and have your pissing contest where I can't hear you?"

He walked away, talking briefly with the nurse before making his way to speak to the kid. When he glanced over to the doorway, Vecchio and Fraser had gone. Jesus.

He stepped inside the treatment room, gesturing for the nurse to follow him. The girl was sitting up on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees, head bent forward.

"Alex?" he said quietly, keeping his distance until she looked up. "Hey. I'm Ray Kowalski; I'm a detective. How are you feeling?"

Alex smiled tightly. "Oh, just great, thanks, Detective. I'm having a fantastic day."

Ray snorted. "Yeah, sorry." He took another step into the room. "You okay with me being here? I mean, I can get a female cop down here to take your statement if you like."

Alex shrugged and looked away. She looked very young - Ray would be surprised if she were even a senior. He passed a card with Elaine's number on it to the nurse, asking her to call and get Elaine down here; since she'd graduated the Academy, Elaine was at a different precinct, but Ray was pretty sure she'd come and help him out. The nurse nodded, going over to the phone on the wall rather than leaving the room. Ray liked her immediately.

"So Alex, when you're ready, I want you to tell me everything you can. Doesn't matter if you don't think it's important."

"Why bother?" Alex scowled at him. "I'm a hooker - part of the job, right? That's what you cops always say."

Ray shook his head, forcing down his irritation. "I'm here now, aren't I? I'm listening, taking you seriously."

Alex huffed a laugh. "That's only because the Mountie called you."

"You know the Mountie?" Ray guessed she was talking about Fraser.

She nodded. "All of us know him. He used to hang out with us sometimes - hand out rubbers, buy girls clothes if they needed them, help folks find places to live, that kind of thing." She smiled. "Everyone thought he was nuts, but he seemed harmless so we let him hang around. Then he disappeared." She frowned. "No-one knew what happened to him, but he just stopped coming around. We figured he'd gone back home or something."

Ray smiled encouragingly. "But then he came back."

Alex nodded again. "Said he'd heard there was some bad shit going down." Ray guessed she was translating - he couldn't imagine Fraser saying anything like that. "Starts asking around, does anyone know of a john who likes it a bit rough, you know? Tells us all to be careful, work in groups, not go off alone."

Ray frowned, wondering what the hell Fraser had heard and where he'd heard it. He hadn't discussed the case at all, and he was pretty sure Vecchio wouldn't have.

"So what happened this morning?" he asked, trying to steer her thoughts a little.

"I was headed home." Alex rand a shaking hand through her hair. "Jesus, I wish they'd let you smoke in these places." She shook her head, visibly pulling herself together. "It'd been a slow night, so I figured I'd cut my losses, yeah? Only just as I start walking, I realize this guy is following me. Tall, built, real clean-cut, not the sort we usually get. Like, maybe six-two, six-three, and young. Looked like a, I dunno, an army officer or something. Real Officer and a Gentleman type."

Ray glanced up from his notepad. "Could he have been a cop?"

Alex shrugged. "I guess, maybe. But a real good-looking one if he was." She shook her head. "I should have known better. But he seemed so nice, y'know? Nice voice - bit of a weird accent - and all big words."

"White? Asian? Hispanic? Black?"

"White. Real pale skin, like a ghost or something." She smiled, looking embarrassed. "Sounds dumb, huh? Oh, and his hair was kinda dark reddy-blond - bit like yours would be if you didn't dye it."

Ray chuckled, making another note. "Okay, okay. Anything else you remember? Scars, tattoos, piercings?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Uh, maybe - there was a rough bit of skin on his left hand, like maybe he'd used to wear a ring or something. You know, when guys take their wedding bands off, you can always tell." She rubbed her own hand at the base of her ring finger. "Dead giveaway."

"I'll bear that in mind." Ray tapped his pencil on his notepad, frowning at his notes. He didn't want to ask the next bit, but it had to be done. "So, Alex. Can you tell me anything about what he did to you?"

Her face tightened, and just like that the high school kid was gone. "Yeah. Okay. So, we went in the alley, yeah? Dumb, I know, but like I said, he seemed okay." She paused, chewing at her fingernail. The nurse had drifted closer while they'd been talking, tidying the drawers or something but sticking close to Alex. Alex watched her for a few seconds before continuing. "Anyway, as soon as we get in there he gets this really weird look in his eye, like, I dunno. But it freaked me out, so I started back towards the street, y'know? Anyway, he had his hand in his pocket, and he brought out this bit of string or something - I couldn't see what it was." Her hands were shaking, and the nurse stopped what she was doing and came over to her, taking her hand and talking in a low voice until Alex nodded.

Ray gave the nurse a grateful look, forcing himself to stay quiet until Alex was ready to talk. Christ, he hated this - taking witness statements from frightened victims always sucked, but there was something about this particular crime that always - He heard a door slam outside the room, making them all jump, and looked up to see Elaine peering through the glass. He beckoned her in.

"Hey, Alex. This is my buddy Elaine. She's gonna talk to you now, okay? Just take your time, tell her anything you can remember." He stood up slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements. "You've been a big help," he told her honestly, before turning to brief Elaine on what they had so far. "Oh - one last question. Have you applied for a job in Canada recently?"

Alex looked surprised. "Yeah, couple weeks ago. I went to see the guys at the consulate last week. Got an interview week after next. How'd you know?"

Ray smiled. "Just a guess." He looked at his notes as he left the room, piecing things together as he walked. Could have been a cop, huh? Surely it wouldn't be anyone actually at the consulate? Ray shook his head to clear it. Now all he had to do was find Vecchio.

---

It wasn't a big surprise to find Fraser and Vecchio in a cleaning closet, but Ray couldn't help bristling anyway.

"Am I interrupting something?" he demanded, arms folded and face all attitude. Yeah, he was pathetic, but he didn't care.

"Ray!" Fraser looked genuinely pleased to see him, and Ray felt his annoyance melt just like that. God, he was so screwed.

"Have a nice chat?" he asked, because he wasn't quite through being a dick.

Vecchio scowled at him, although Ray couldn't help noticing it lacked its usual heat. "Yeah, Stanley. I'm all warm and fuzzy now." He glanced at Ray's notebook. "Solve the case?"

Ray bared his teeth. "Yeah, all by myself. Aren't I clever?" He shook his head, holding his hand up before Vecchio could tell him to go to hell. "I think we're onto something with the consulate.

"The consulate?" Fraser frowned. "Which consulate?"

"Yours, Benny." Vecchio shook his head. "Come on - you can come with us. We're gonna need your help anyway to make this joker pass for a Mountie." He ruffled Ray's hair as he passed. "Think the hat'll cover this mess?"

An hour later, Ray was beginning to doubt his claim that he could do this. He looked in the mirror, fidgeting with his hair and trying to adopt the posture he'd seen Mounties on TV use. They all looked like they had a stick up their ass.

He tugged his collar and moved his shoulders, screwing his nose up at the feel of sweat sliding down his back. "You used to wear this every day?"

Fraser smiled. "Most days. It's not the most comfortable of garments, and I must confess I took every opportunity to wear the brown uniform or civilian clothes."

Ray scratched his butt. "These pants -"

"Itch like hell." Fraser stepped closer, his arms sliding round Ray's waist. "It feels good to take them off after a long day," he murmured, his lips warm against Ray's ear. Ray squirmed and tilted his head to give him better access. "Almost... erotic."

"Fraser..." Ray tilted his head, kissing Fraser quickly before stepping back. "Not here, okay?" He waved his hand around the bathroom, trying to be stern and sensible and Mountie-like.

Fraser just grinned. "I think you'll do, Ray."

The ride to the consulate was all kinds of uncomfortable. The stupid clown pants kept bunching up in places Ray wasn't used to pants bunching, and the wool, as Fraser had said, itched like hell.

"Stop fidgeting," Vecchio hissed, before grinning at him in the rear-view mirror. "Oh, Stanley. You do look lovely in red."

Fraser twisted round to look at him. "Although I suspect Ray Vecchio is just teasing, he is in fact quite correct, Ray. Red really does suit you."

Dief whuffled, and Ray glared at him. "I hate you all," he muttered.

The consulate was darker than he expected, and mercifully cool. Maybe the Canadians kept it on icy to remind them of the tundra or something.

"Hello?" Ray squinted into the lobby, his eyes not quite adjusted to the darkness yet.

"Good morning, sir! Welcome to Canada!"

Ray took another step forward, recognizing the voice as belonging to the strange reception guy. Could he be - nah. He was properly blond, and Alex had definitely said the guy was reddy-blond. Besides, Fraser had managed a sketch - a pretty fucking detailed drawing, Ray called it - and the face shape of this guy was all wrong.

"Good morning, Constable." Ray smiled, trying to mimic Fraser's accent as much as he could, or at least not sound too southside. "My name is Constable Stanley Kunz. I'm on sabbatical from Ottawa - I believe Inspector Thatcher is expecting me?" Jesus Christ - how did people talk like this?

The young constable flat out beamed at him, like Ray - sorry, Stanley's arrival was the best thing that had happened in years. Maybe for him it was.

"Certainly, sir. If you'd like to follow me, Inspector Thatcher's office is right this way."

And okay, wow, now Ray was starting to see how a creep might get a job here. If they all just trusted anyone wearing the uniform... He tugged at his lanyard - Fraser had said he needed to make sure it was straight - and followed the baby Mountie down the corridor. His hand paused on the cord as he straightened it; those kids had been strangled with string. Could this be what he'd used? It'd make sense... except for the fact he wouldn't have been wearing uniform when he did it. Alex would have noticed, and she'd known Fraser was a Mountie, so obviously she knew what it looked like. Still...

"Thank you, Turnbull, that'll be all." Turnbull, that was it. Ray turned at the sound of a woman's voice, stepping out of the way just in time as Turnbull backed out of the room.

"You can go in now, sir." Turnbull smiled and winked. Freak.

Ray almost whistled as he stepped into the office, impressed with the fancy furniture and sheer size of the place. The woman behind the desk wasn't any less impressive, and Ray had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself grinning at her. Not easy when she was so blatantly checking him out.

He walked over to stand in front of the desk, settling into parade rest. Oh yeah, he had this down. "Constable Stanley Kunz," he said, keeping his gaze fixed on the wall just above her left ear. They hadn't had time to come up with a good cover story, hoping like hell that Ray would be there for a couple of hours rather than a couple of days.

"Constable." Thatcher eyed him narrowly. "What part of Canada are you from?"

"North-west Territories, Sir." Ray kept his gaze forward, pretty sure he was getting the accent all wrong, but sure that Thatcher was too much of a city girl to notice.

She nodded, and Ray relaxed a little. "That would explain the accent," she said dismissively, pressing a button on her intercom. "Constable Mulroney will show you to your office."

The door opened, and a tall Mountie stepped through, reddy-blond hair and built, just like Alex said. Ray swallowed hard, fighting the impulse to go and jump bogart all over the fucking creep, instead just nodding and following him out of the office.

"Hi," he said as soon as they were in the corridor. "Constable Kunz. Nice to meet you."

Mulroney smiled back, every inch the perfect Mountie. "And you, Constable. I do hope you'll enjoy your time with us. We're a small detachment, but a friendly one."

"I didn't realize you had peace officer duties here in Chicago."

"Not officially." Mulroney's smile got wider. "My predecessor had a very good relationship with the Chicago Police Department, however, so it behooved us to keep that in place."

Ray tried not to laugh, reminding himself that this creep was, in fact, a murdering scumbag and a rapist. But it was difficult to take him seriously.

"So how will I fit into this?" he asked, following Mulroney into what he was pretty sure must have been a broom closet at some point, but was now serving as office. "I mean the consulate, not the office. Although I'm wondering that as well..."

Mulroney laughed, and okay, Ray was really starting to get creeped out now.

"Your role is to process visa applications." There was nothing as he said it; no twitch, no guilt, no change in his voice, nothing. Either they'd got it completely wrong, or this guy was more fucking psychotic than they'd thought. "I'll show you where the forms are kept and where to place completed ones. It's really very straightforward; we'll have you up to speed in no time."

The phone rang, and Ray jumped in spite of himself. "Shall I answer?"

Mulroney nodded. "I'll make us some tea while you deal with that. Any problems, come and fetch me from the kitchen - it's just along the hall on the left."

Ray nodded, lifting the handset. "Canadian Consulate, Consulat de Canada, Constable Kunz speaking..." He waited until Mulroney closed the door behind him. "Okay, go."

"That was really terribly good, Ray. Most convincing."

Ray chuckled. "Yeah, I'm all over this polite Canadian shit, Frase. Now stick Vecchio on so I can talk bad guys with him." He heard the cell being handed over.

"Hey. You got him yet?"

"Oh yeah." Ray shivered. "He's creepy, Vecchio. I don't like him - he's like a goddamn Stepford Mountie or something."

"Murderer and rapist," Vecchio said simply. "They're not usually known for their people skills."

"Har-de-har." Vecchio heard the kitchen door slam, and lowered his voice. "Give it five, then send in the bait, okay? I gotta go." The door opened. "Yes sir, that's right, the United States does indeed have embassies in the province of Canada. There's really no need for concern. Have a safe journey, and I hope you enjoy your stay in our country." He could hear Vecchio laughing as he hung up. Bastard.

Mulroney didn't seem to notice anything wrong. "We get a lot of those kind of calls," he said, handing Ray his tea. "You'd be surprised how little Americans know about our country."

"I'm beginning to learn," Ray murmured, smiling when Mulroney looked at him. "How little they know," he clarified. "So, the forms?"

"Ah, yes." Mulroney set his tea on the desk, walking over to a file cabinet and pulling out a whole bunch of sheets. "The first one you need is..."

---

It was kinda embarrassing how easy it was in the end. Mulroney took the bait, asked the girl way too many questions about her family and background - no family, no kids, no steady job where people might miss her. Then it was just a case of following him and seeing what he did, and sure enough, the creep followed her down to Wacker.

Ray finished typing up his report with a flourish, realizing too late there was no-one to see it.

"Where the hell did they go?" he asked Dief, then realized Dief had gone as well. The fuck?

He set off along the corridor, pausing on a hunch outside the stationery closet. He opened the door, completely unsurprised to find Vecchio and Fraser sitting there.

Fraser smiled up at him. "We were just talking about you," he said, like that was a good thing.

Ray glanced up and down the corridor, then shrugged and stepped in, opening the door a second later to let Dief in as well.

"So, what's going on, kids?"

Vecchio scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "I got something to tell you."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got that memo weeks ago, Vecchio. What the hell is it?"

"I'm quitting." Vecchio looked a little shocked he'd just said it. "Me and Stel, we're heading down to Miami. DA's office offered her a job, and she took it. Starts next month."

Ray blinked. "You're going to Florida?"

Vecchio nodded. "Nuts, huh? I figure Stella'll hate the heat, but who am I to argue, huh? I can get work as a security advisor, so it's win-win."

"I can't believe you're going to Florida. Stella hates bugs. And old people."

Fraser nudged his arm. "This could be your opportunity, Ray." His voice was all earnest, and God help him, Ray had no defenses against that. "To let it go."

Vechhio was looking at them like they were crazy people, but Ray didn't care. He glanced at Dief, grinning as he looked back up at Fraser.

"'Cause if Welsh has to look for a new detective anyway..."

"Recruiting two isn't any more difficult. And Elaine's shown great promise - longterm he could look at bringing her back." Fraser was grinning as well.

Ray laughed. "Where would we go?" He didn't care, not really. "Hey, you're gonna need a green card."

"Stella pulled a few strings, I believe. I have a travel visa for a few months, then we could - "

"Go north." Ray couldn't stop grinning. He'd helped the kid, caught the bad guy, and now damnit if he didn't feel like he'd got the girl as well. Guy. Man. Whatever. He threw his arms around Fraser and kissed him, which of course was the moment Welsh chose to open the door.

There was a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of Dief's panting.

"Constable." Welsh said slowly. "I see you met your replacement."

"Ah, yes, Lieutenant." Fraser scratched his eyebrow, the nervous gesture somewhat ruined by the fact he still had his other arm around Ray. "That is, it's, ah, it's good to see you, sir."

Welsh's eyes crinkled in what might have been a smile. Hard to tell. "Detective Vecchio, I do believe you and I have a meeting scheduled. If, of course, you're done playing chaperone."

"Be right with you, Lieu." Vecchio turned to look at Ray as he stepped out into the corridor, his eyes still worried. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, Vecchio. I'm sure." Ray grinned at Fraser as the door closed, pulling him into another kiss. He'd never been more sure of anything in his life.

END.