1. Chapter 1

They were ten minutes too late. Ten minutes – not even a coffee break, almost as long as some of the more torturous stop lights in the city, according to both Rays. Ten minutes and the blood that spilled across the floor and dripped from the railing of the makeshift ‘fence’ served as testament to their failure. Two lives gone, both violently, both needlessly. Fraser stood over the tarp covered bodies as sentry and witness.

“Good thing we left Dief behind.” Ray came up next to him, ironically the calmest person in the chaos of the warehouse. Around them police officers were tearing the place apart for evidence of other crimes, and dogs barked angrily from their crates on the other side of the room. Ray sighed, his head dipping, his blond spikes luminescent in the cheap florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. “Kaplan didn’t have a choice, Frase,” he said quietly.

Fraser nodded, knowing it was true. “Blood lust. He was insane with it.” He spoke in agreement and confirmation.

“Kaplan?” Ray frowned.

“No, Z-Boy.”

“The dog?”

“Yes.”

“Trust you to know his name already.”

Fraser waved a dismissive hand towards the chalkboard hanging from one of the steel support columns. On it was written the names of the last contestants, a heavy weight bruiser named Chrysler and the new challenger, Z-Boy. Both Rottweilers, both listed as 115 pounds.

“They were declaring Z-Boy the winner as we came in.”

“So, uh, Chrysler was already…”

“Yes. Bleeding out, or close to it in any case.” Fraser turned to look at Ray, feeling old and useless. “I know Officer Kaplan had no choice but to shoot him, Ray. Amidst all the chaos of the raid, there was no telling what Z-Boy might have done, had he not been…stopped.”

“We got the others, Frase. They’re not going to be used for fighting any more, okay? We lost two but there are least twenty dogs over there we saved.” Ray pointed, but Fraser shook his head.

“No, Ray, we’ve doomed them as surely as these two here.”

Ray frowned, thinking, and Fraser was grateful for his intellectual agility – not as swift as his vocabulary, but far more trustworthy. “Shit. They’re going to have to put them down.”

Fraser nodded again, turned, and left the building without speaking to another soul. Ten minutes late but it hardly mattered; every dog in the building was as good as dead. Fraser walked the many blocks to their apartment, wondering how in the hell he was going to explain this case to Diefenbaker.

---

After Muldoon, and the Quest, and finding Franklin’s crew, and the television interviews and the book deal, Fraser was approached by the RCMP and given carte blanche. He was their poster boy now, and in a quiet phone call to Meg Thatcher he asked her what exactly that meant. His former superior officer understood the politics much better than he did. They were cautious friends now, a privilege Fraser did not want to abuse, but he truly had no idea what the RCMP expected of him now.

“They expect you to play along. Ask for a promotion, the usual. And you can, Fraser, you can ask for anything now and they will give it to you. So you need to be sure you ask for what you really want.”

“I am not particularly keen on a promotion.”

“Understood. I imagine you hoped to retire out as a constable in some remote posting.”

“The thought had crossed my mind. I deemed it…suitable. Once.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

Fraser paused, because her simple question made his answer concrete, and real, and unavoidable. “Thank you, Meg.”

“My pleasure, Ben. Remember to write.”

So Fraser went and asked for the promotion he did not want, and the posting he knew he would hate, because it was the only way he was going to get what he really needed: Chicago, and Ray Kowalski. Ray Vecchio was in Florida and whatever combination of events that lead to Fraser losing his first Ray – and Fraser was not entirely certain it was inevitable, although he could not figure out what he could have done differently, even in retrospect – he was determined not to lose anyone else to the vagaries of circumstance. Not if he could help it.

He demanded the directorship of the Chicago consulate, and after a minor and behind-closed-doors uproar in Ottawa (Thatcher informed him about that, chuckling with an evil note to her voice, and Fraser did not ask for details), he got it. They leapfrogged him to Inspector and forced him to do a major public relations campaign about his promotion, and it cost him his ‘liaison’ status with the Chicago Police. But he got a stipend for ‘hard ship duty’ which paid for the overly large three-bedroom apartment (“You need an office, Frase” “On the contrary, Ray, I think you need a dumpster”) he now shared with Ray. They were talking of retiring to Canada in fifteen years, which Fraser considered a fair exchange, and they planned to spend their vacations in Inuvik (despite Ray sounding very much like Ray Vecchio in his complaints about it).

Dief was mostly pleased that his pizza allowance went uninterrupted.

But today, with the arrest of the dog fighting ring, and the certain doom of the dogs, Fraser was not particularly happy with Chicago. The only reason he was directly involved at all, given his exalted status, was that one of the organizers was a Canadian citizen who had been sneaking fighting dogs back and forth across the border. Knowing in part what they would find in the raid, Fraser left Diefenbaker locked up in the apartment, risking the possibility of a spilled bladder over the chance of Dief following them and proceeding to attack the dog handlers under arrest. Which, Fraser sighed as he unlocked the door, was a decision he might come to regret. He tried not to indulge his more vengeful nature, but those criminals probably deserved a good throat ripping. He hastily stashed that thought away, unseemly and uncivilized as it was.

“We stopped the malfeasants, for which you should be pleased.” Fraser intoned as he explained the situation to Diefenbaker, who was not pleased at all. “I know, and I regret that we were unable to break up the dog fighting business earlier. But…you must understand, Diefenbaker, that those dogs will all be put down.”

The wolf sat down, affronted.

“They are trained fighting dogs. Trained and bred for aggressiveness, trained to kill. They cannot simply be adopted out.”

Dief whined.

“While in theory that is an excellent idea, I’m afraid they are hardly suited for living in the wilds…they are used to being fed and cared for, and would not survive long. In any case, I doubt the Chicago authorities would want it known they released a pack of trained killer dogs into the woods.”

More whining.

“Very noble of you, but I don’t think they would accept your offer to teach them to hunt. No…stop it, Diefenbaker. There is simply nothing we can do, other than take refuge in the knowledge that we have stopped the dog fights for now, and saved the puppies who were in line to be trained up next.”

Dief stomped out of the room, probably to go soil the bed linens to show his displeasure (he was sadly predictable in some ways), but Fraser did not have the heart to stop him. He would simply change out the sheets before Ray got home, and be thankful for the rubber mattress cover that was so reliable at keeping a variety of bodily fluids at bay.

When Ray got home he was subdued and depressed, and Fraser no better. There were times when innocents died on the cross of others’ sins, and even police officers had to stand by in helpless grief. Fraser fixed a simple dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches (one of Ray’s genuine comfort foods), and they sat eating with the television off.

“You changed the bed sheets out early.” Ray said listlessly.

“Ah. Well. Yes, it seems Diefenbaker took issue with the resolution of the case and…”

“Oh.” Ray kept chewing.

It was a quiet, restless night. Fraser left the bedroom door open so Diefenbaker could hear them make love – or even spy in, which bothered Ray tremendously but always gave Diefenbaker a sense of comfort and belonging. Fraser kept Ray distracted from the open door as best he could, loving his with his mouth and tongue until Ray simply rolled over wordlessly and let Fraser take him, pushing into his body forcefully and mercilessly, allowing them both the release of emotional and physical obliteration, if only for a moment. They slept deeply, and Fraser was not surprised to wake up later with Dief twined between their legs, his heavy head on Ray’s hip. Fraser stopped himself from ordering Dief off the bed, instead running his hand over Dief’s head and scratching at his neck.

“I’m sorry.”

Dief whuffed in understanding and closed his eyes again.

---

The following day it was back to Consulate business for Fraser, who had several dignitaries due in the following week from Taiwan. With some polishing and no little amount of bullying, Fraser had groomed Turnbull over the past year to an acceptable level of usefulness, in no small part through Ray’s urging. That Ray seemed hell-bent on matching up the younger Mountie with a still-Mountie-enamored (yet very pregnant) Francesca Vecchio was only part of Ray’s plans, Fraser was certain, but he dared not look a gift horse in the mouth. He did wonder, though, that if – as Ray claimed – ‘consulate duty’ was the acme of ‘husband training’, what exactly that meant for Fraser himself.

Dief certainly had his own opinions, which Fraser refused to humor.

“We are not getting any puppies, and you must stop this ridiculous campaign.”

“But sir, the pitter patter of little feet? The adoring eyes, looking to you for guidance and affection? Certainly we can sacrifice our own comforts for the sake of the next generation.” Turnbull pleaded Dief’s case, leaning in over the desk with his own puppy-dog eyes wide with sincerity while Dief sat at Fraser’s side, his head propped adoringly on Fraser’s knee.

“No. Both of you, out. I have far too many forms to complete and the caterer…”

“Sir, please…”

“Constable Turnbull, you are dismissed. And take…HIM with you.” Fraser pushed Dief away and they growled at each other. “No, absolutely not. I don’t care about your biological clock, it has been ticking away healthily for years. Need I remind you that you are the proud father of five, count them, five litters. Any more and…” Fraser motioned his fingers to mimic a pair of scissors, and Dief fled from the room.

“Whoa there! Hey boy, what…? Turnbull?” Ray stood to the side of the door to avoid being trampled by the retreating dog and Mountie. “Hey, what’d you say to them?”

“I threatened castration.”

Ray’s hands moved to cover his crotch. “Jesus, don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry, Ray. Not you, of course.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ray nodded but kept his hands in front of himself and approached the desk warily.

“So what brings you by today? Any problems processing McGuire?”

“Nah. In fact I just came by to drop off the forms you need to request extradition.” He moved one hand to awkwardly pull crumpled paperwork out of his jacket.

“Really, Ray, I have no intention of castrating anyone today.” Fraser sighed, and Ray moved his other hand away from his lap slowly and cautiously. He stood there, and something about his manner set off alarm bells in Fraser’s mind. “Ray? Why are you here?”

“I just called to say I love you?”

“That’s a terrible song.”

“Glad you said so. I’d hate to divorce you over something like that.”

“Given that we are not legally married, it might prove difficult anyway.”

“I visited the dogs.” Ray spilled the words out quickly, shuffling up to the desk and studying the stapler for signs of life, his hand stuffed into his pockets in a failed attempt to keep still.

Fraser’s smiled faded. “Ray, don’t torture yourself. There’s nothing we can do.”

“I know that. I know that, I do know that.” Ray nodded, and chewed his lower lip. “But, you know, I thought…just, no one has ever been nice to them, you know? So I thought I’d stop by, say hi, just…be friendly.”

Fraser did not like where this was going. “And?”

“They’re lost causes, Frase. You were right. They are…they aren’t even dogs anymore.” Ray tapped the desk, and Fraser considered pointing out that biologically, of course they were still dogs, but he thought better of it. He knew what Ray was trying to say.

“They’ve lived corrupted and brutal lives. It is a tragedy, but there is nothing we can do.”

“Yeah…” Ray stood up straighter. “Well, there was this one, this rottie bitch, get this: named Daisy. Who the fuck names a fighting dog Daisy?”

“I…don’t know. It does seem incongruous.”

“Uh, yeah. That.” Ray nodded, looking out the window behind Fraser. “She was polite, smart. You could see it in her eyes, like Dief: she knows what’s going on. She gets it.”

“Still…”

“She’s got this scar, on her back leg. They say it is from a fight but I don’t know, I don’t buy it. Not a claw mark. Just…she laid there looking up at me. She didn’t expect anything from me, didn’t hate me, wasn’t scared. Just looked at me like she understood. And I…I…” Ray waved his hands and Fraser was out of his chair, coming around to pull Ray into a hug. Ray clung to him, not crying—not yet, at least—but breathing deeply, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He was obviously shaken by Daisy’s plight, and Fraser couldn’t help thinking of the Botrelle case and Ray’s helpless, endless self-recriminations.

“I’m sorry, Ray. I’m so sorry.”

Ray nodded, bobbing a bit in Fraser’s arms, then pushed back and tried to look tough. Fraser had privately started calling it Ray’s ‘McQueen Posture’ – slouched, hips canted, head held high but looking off to the side. He pursed his lips and sniffed. “I guess I tried, right?”

“That you went at all is a testament to…”

“Yeah, right. I tried.”

Fraser shook his head. “It is a tragedy. Even Dief was shaken.”

“Hey, where did he go? Did he just leave?” Ray took advantage of the change in conversation and looked around.

“He demanded a personal day. I believe he wanted to spend some quality time with various canine companions…” Fraser helplessly waved a hand around, trying to relate both his understanding of Dief’s unhappiness and his own displeasure with the wolf’s cavalier attitude to the job. Not that Dief wore the serge or could even grasp the idea of an oath of office, but it did gall Fraser sometimes when Dief just refused to show.

“Yeah, I get that. I get that…you know, you could stop being jealous of the wolf and take a day off yourself.”

“I am not jealous, I am fully understanding and supportive…”

“Right. Tell me you did not put him on diet kibble for the rest of the week.” Ray smiled, and Fraser was willing to take any hit to his pride to see that.

“The circumstances are not related.” Fraser huffed, playing for the straight-laced attitude that Ray usually enjoyed poking at.

“Sure, Frase.” Ray laughed lightly, despite the shadow in his eyes. Fraser realized his mood was not going to lift any time soon, but accepted the small success he could grab. “Hey, I gotta go, okay?”

“Of course Ray. Pass my regards on to Welsh.”

“No can do, buddy, he’s still pissed you aren’t liaison anymore, even if he refuses to admit it.” Ray laughed again and sauntered out. Fraser watched him go, wondering what on earth he could arrange to make Ray feel better about the dog case, and coming up with nothing. Eventually he sat back down at his desk and began mindlessly shuffled the paperwork that never disappeared. When the phone rang he answered without looking up from the form in front of him. Turnbull learned a long time ago only to transfer in the most important calls, which usually meant either Ray or Ottawa.

“Inspector Benton Fraser, Consulate Director. May I help you?”

“Benny?”

Fraser looked up, feeling his controlled reserve smashing apart. “Ray?”

“Good to hear your voice. Been…it’s been a while.”

“Over a year.” More accurately, 17 months, one week and five days since Ray had told him to ‘go get his man,’ but Fraser did not think Ray would appreciate the clarification.

“Yeah. Long time.”

“Yes.”

“Benny…I…you busy?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I’m always busy, but I’m more than happy to set some time aside for…Ray? Is something wrong?” Fraser exhaled and leaned forward in his chair, figuring something was wrong, and fearing it was mob related. He had already started calculating the fastest route to Florida before Ray spoke again.

“Why else would I call, right? Only if something was wrong.” Ray sounded angry, and Fraser back peddled instinctively.

“Well, no, of course not. We’re friends, and friends call…”

“No, you got it right the first time. Something’s wrong.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ‘ah.’ Some things never change, I guess. ‘Ah.’”

“Ray…”

“I’m getting divorced. I hate that damn bowling alley, I hate Florida, I’m a walking piece of Italian toast down here. I’ve had a sunburn every day for a year now, that’s just from driving the car to the shop and back. Jesus Christ, I’ve been miserable, and it’s not Stella’s fault, okay? It’s me, it’s my fault, I should never have married her right out of being undercover for so long. Someone should have stopped me, I needed someone to slap some sense into me and I just made this stupid mistake…”

“And I wasn’t there for you.” Fraser breathed out, the familiar disappointment spreading through his chest and heart. “I’m so sorry, Ray.”

There was a long pause, and finally he heard Ray sigh. “Yeah. But, you got your own life and…Stanley. I get that. I just…dammit.”

He did not bother correcting him about Ray’s name. He could feel Ray’s desperation and confusion through the phone line.

“Ray, I am your friend and partner, always. A lot has happened over the last few years, but I’m…here for you. Please. If you need help, just tell me.”

“I need help, Benny. I really need some help, here.” His voice cracked with the weight of exhaustion and stress.

“Anything, Ray. Anything.”

---

“WHAT?”

“He’s my friend, Ray, and…”

“You two haven’t talked in almost two years!”

“Nonetheless, we…”

“He DUMPED you!”

Fraser closed his mouth and opened it again, feeling like a guppy fish. “No, he did not. We were never involved in such a way that he could ‘dump’ me, as you say. It was never like that.”

“The hell it wasn’t!”

“I assure you it wasn’t. We are friends.” Fraser briefly closed his eyes at the memory of that friendship, which he had for so long wished was something more, and for so long resigned himself to fact that it was simply never meant to be otherwise.

“Bullshit.”

“Ray, I do not appreciate the insinuation that I am lying to you. I…”

“You talk about him as much as you talk about Victoria.” Ray spun in the middle of the living room and pointed an accusing finger at Fraser. “And when you do, when you talk about either of them, you get that same fucking look on your face. So don’t tell me, don’t even TRY to tell me, it wasn’t ‘like that’!”

Fraser stalled, the truth of Ray’s accusation hitting him like a hammer. He sat down and rubbed his hands together while Ray paced the room, boiling with fury. Finally Fraser took a deep, calming breath. “It really wasn’t like that, you know. I loved Victoria, and she betrayed me, tried to ruin and destroy me. Yes, I loved…I loved Ray Vecchio.” Fraser paused and stood up, walking over to look out the window. He had put his love for Ray Vecchio behind him, or he had tried, but clearly he was not as successful as he hoped. It was disappointing to know that he was so transparent, that he was only feeding into Ray’s insecurities. “But as you perhaps might have noticed, as he married your ex-wife, he is heterosexual. Determinedly so. And as a result, my affections would be…unwelcome. I never told Ray how I felt. A wise decision, I think.”

Ray flopped onto the couch, a miserable expression on his face. Fraser walked over, going to his knees in between Ray’s legs. “I love them still, even as you still love Stella. She is a part of you and you treasure that, and I understand. So please understand my love for them – it is the love of lost opportunities, of what might have been. But HERE, here I am yours. As I hope you are mine.”

Ray looked up at him, tired and sad. “Sap. You are a big girly sap, Ben.”

“Yes.” Fraser nodded solemnly.

Ray gave him a weary smile but raised his hand to cup his face. Fraser leaned into the touch, closing his eyes, and they remained there until Dief started fussing about dinner.

That night, Fraser closed the bedroom door for their lovemaking, and let Ray determine their actions and pace – it was predictably frenetic, although surprising quiet. Ray settled on frottage eventually, but left off his usual litany of curses and exclamations, and Fraser did not ask about it afterwards. Ray left early in the morning, long before he was due at work, but Fraser did not ask about that either. He simply got up, packed his bag, and took a taxi to the airport.

---

“He’s beautiful, Ray.”

“Yeah. He’s just the best cat ever.” Ray beamed like a proud father as the Maine Coon butted his head against Fraser’s hiking boots. “He was a runt, so the breeders dropped him off at the emergency clinic. Better than drowning him, I guess. Anyway Tony, the kid you saw at the front counter? Works there on the weekends. I talked about getting a cat and next thing I know, I got this little furball rolling around on my desk.” Ray’s smile could have lit up Chicago, and Fraser smiled back and tried not to grunt as the cat sat on his foot. The runt of the litter, perhaps, but ‘the little furball’ was at least twenty pounds now. Fraser was grateful for the steel toe cap on his boots. The cat looked up at him with narrowed green eyes. Warily, Fraser nodded in acknowledgement of the greeting.

“Smart too. Smart as Dief, I bet. That cat can read, I swear to you.”

“Really? That would be most…unusual.”

“Yeah, but I’m telling you, he likes the comics. Especially that one, Get Fuzzy? Loves it.”

“Ah. And his name…?”

“Mack.”

“Mack? Like the truck?”

“Nah. For Machiavelli.” Ray grinned.

“Oh.” Fraser looked back down at the cat on his foot. “Greetings, Machiavelli. May I have my foot back?”

Surprisingly, the cat promptly got up and wandered towards Ray’s feet. The breed was known for its larger-than-average size and for its beautiful long-hair coat, and Machiavelli was no exception. He was a gorgeous cat, mostly dark tan with a white mane and stripes of black low-lights down his back and rear legs, but with a bright splash of ginger across the right side of his face.

“I suppose you’re getting him in the divorce.”

“Yeah. And not much else.” Ray sighed.

“Is there a disagreement about the settlement?” Fraser asked, trying to be tactful, but hoping that Ray was not simply giving up and allowing Stella to have everything.

“Not really. And you think the cat’s got claws? You ain’t seen Stella in action. No, I’m taking what she gives me and running back home.”

“I’m glad you asked me to help you.” Fraser watched Ray carefully as he paced, reminded of all the times he watched him at the 2-7 or in his apartment on Racine, cataloguing Ray’s smooth stride and easy grace. He was still a very attractive man.

Fraser realized he was staring and looked around for the cat in order to distract himself. It had been a very long time since he had warred with temptation, and he was not quite prepared to do so now.

“Not much to help with, honestly, not taking the furniture or anything. My wardrobe, my computer, some odds and ends. If I’m moving back in with Ma…I don’t need much.” Ray’s voice faltered a bit and he sat down on the flowery, pastel-colored couch. The house was nicely decorated in what might loosely be called a Caribbean theme, but Ray simply looked out of place in it. Machiavelli gracefully leapt up and insinuated himself on Ray’s lap, and Fraser tried unsuccessfully not to think about Bond villains as Ray lovingly stroked the cat’s fur.

“Still, I’m glad you asked.”

Ray looked up at him, his green eyes sparkling with emotion. “I needed a friend. You’re about all I got. And I haven’t treated you right…for a while.” He focused back on the cat.

“Please don’t say that, Ray. We’ve both…had our reasons.”

“Yours is better than mine.”

“Not really. I understand that my taking up with another man came as quite a shock to you, and you had just come out of a long and emotionally distressing undercover mission, not to mention getting shot, and…that the man in question was, so to speak, your…replacement.”

“Don’t think the irony of that doesn’t kill me every day,” Ray said with a sardonic smile, and Fraser felt himself grinning foolishly.

“It does seem ironic.”

“Not to mention unfair,” Ray muttered, looking down, and Fraser faltered.

“What?”

“Nothing, Benny, just saying…loads of irony, here. Loads.”

“Of course.”

“Look, I have to tell you…Stella? She won’t like you being here.”

Fraser sat down across from him. “Is that why you asked me to come?”

Ray started, and the cat jumped down with a grumble. “Sorry, Mack, sorry.” Ray reached down to pat the cat’s head in apology and turned to Fraser, his face a mask. “No. I asked you because you are my friend. You got that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay.” The mask slipped and Ray leaned back on the couch, studying Fraser. “Maybe my motives aren’t too pure. I guess I got to be honest about that. But no, I need you here as a friend, and I mean that.”

“Thank you. But what do you mean about your motives?”

“Ahhh…hell, Benny. This marriage was doomed from the start, okay? I want you to understand that. But I didn’t know it, not for a long time. Not until I starting cheating on Stella.”

Fraser sat back, stunned. “Ray…”

“I know, look, I know. It’s not something I’d do…I never cheated on Ange, or on anyone else I was with. Believe me, I judge myself worse than you do. But that’s how I knew, that was my wake up call. Hello? Cheating on the woman you supposedly love? Something’s wrong.”

Fraser sat quietly, unable to argue that point, and still disappointed that Ray would sink so low.

“Yeah, I can hear you thinking from here, Benny.” Ray sighed.

“So my being here is to assure her that you are not leaving her for another woman.”

“Um, no.”

“Oh.” Fraser frowned, confused.

“Okay, partly. Partly to convince her that I’m not leaving her for anyone else. She doesn’t like you much, but she knows you’d never cheat on Kowalski. She told me so. You’re here because you are the only person I could ask to be here that she wouldn’t accuse me of fucking around with.”

Fraser nodded as if that made sense, then stood up abruptly, feeling himself start to shake. “Ray…Ray….”

Ray looked up from the couch, exhaustion written clearly on his face. “Yeah, Benny. Go ahead and ask.”

“The…person…you cheated on Stella with. The…person…” Fraser felt himself faltering again, and unable to look at Ray. He fell into parade rest and stared at the wall, instinct taking over.

“Jesus, look at you. Can’t even ask me. Okay, the person, who was actually three persons, two of whom were guys. Guys of the male persuasion, okay?” Ray closed his eyes. “I know you won’t judge me for that, anyway.”

Fraser remained at rest, trying to think. “Were you…always?”

“Just quit tiptoeing around the subject, why don’t you? Jesus.” Ray rubbed his face, keeping his eyes closed. “Ray Vecchio 101: yeah, I fooled around with guys as a kid. Just a few times. Then I decided to become a cop, and being queer, or half-queer? Not an option. Like giving up chocolate for Lent, right? Not easy, but once you do, you don’t think about it anymore. Then…”

Fraser waited for his name, waited for confirmation, waited for what he needed and what he feared, but it never came.

“Vegas. It messed me up, and believe me, Armando was one crazy motherfucker. Coke parties, orgies, boys, girls…I drew the line with the underage ones, managed to make it sound like Manny found God a little bit after the ‘accident’, but I could only push that angle so far. I lost count, Benny. Christ, I lost count of how many people I fucked. You been with, what? Three people? Four, maybe? My list was hanging steady at sixteen, fifteen of whom were women, when I went to Vegas. Busted that many nuts the first week I was there. Always wore a condom, always played safe, but damnit…at some point something snaps and it doesn’t even matter anymore. It’s just like…eating fast food. Empty calories, empty fucks. I mean I get how hookers do it now, because…I get it.”

Fraser realized he was staring at Ray with his mouth open. He pulled himself together and made himself sit down on the couch. Mack jumped back up and lay down between them, as if trying to protect Ray, and glared at Fraser over his shoulder.

“He is my friend, and I am here to comfort him,” Fraser said to the cat, realizing he was over-enunciating as if talking to Dief, as if every animal who could understand him was half-deaf. He shook his head and turned to Ray, putting a hand out to rub his shoulder.

“I had no idea.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. It was…messed up. I did worse, Benny, things I will never tell a living soul about, not even in confession. The sex was just fallout. Something I did to pass the time, and I didn’t realize what it was doing to me until it was too late” He looked up. “The Feds paid me. They paid me, and I wonder if I just got so used to being a whore that I can’t stop acting like one now.” Ray hugged himself, looked out the window to the perfectly manicured lawn.

“You aren’t, Ray. You were doing your duty, and the FBI is at fault for putting you into that corrupted, soulless place. You did you best, under the circumstances.” Fraser tried to imagine a job where ‘your best’ included large quantities of mindless, drug-addled sex with people you did not even know, and failed.

“Yeah. I did my best, and we took down one of the largest crime syndicates in the West. I did my best, Benny, and…here I am, divorcing the best woman I ever met because I can’t keep my dick in my pants.” Ray laughed, but it was an empty sound.

“Is that really why?”

“Hell no.” Vecchio rubbed his neck, obviously trying to think it out. “The cheating is just, well…fallout. The symptom, not the disease.”

“Very astute observation.”

“Sure, astute as all hell. That’s me.”

“So what is the ‘disease’, then?”

“Losing myself, Benny. I forgot who I was, and now I’m not sure I know who I am.”

Fraser had no answer or solution to that, so simply kept rubbing his shoulder. Finally Ray relaxed and Mack relaxed in tune with him, and Fraser sighed in relief.

“Ray, I’m so sorry. I can’t judge you…I don’t approve of you cheating on your wife, of course, but…I think I understand.”

“Nah, you don’t understand. But hey, I appreciate you trying.” Ray grinned at him, a lazy, beautiful grin, his eyes dark green from emotions and stress and Fraser thought he looked like a Roman lord at his ease, majestic and brilliant and sly and elegant. Fraser leaned forward and moved his hand up Ray’s shoulder to his neck, rubbing his thumb over Ray’s jaw. Ray turned and looked at him, stunned.

“Benny…” Ray froze, and Fraser froze, and Mack hissed. Fraser bounced up off the couch while Ray stared at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I…”

Ray had not moved, but his eyes narrowed shrewdly in a look Fraser had never seen before. “That what you want, Benny? Cause I got that.”

Fraser’s sense of shame dropped into a state of horror. He did not know this man on the couch. At all. To even offer such a thing was far beyond any concept he had of who Ray Vecchio was. His expression must have shown, because the man blinked and suddenly Ray was back.

“Forget it, Benny. I mean that. Forget it.”

“Ray, I…”

“I need you, Benny. I need a friend. Don’t ask this of me. Because I’d do it, I would, and…”

“I…I can’t.”

The look was back in a flash. “That’s right, because you’re a better man than I am. I forgot that about you.” Fraser realized that this was an aspect of Armando, the cold expression and the lifeless eyes. Ray was shutting him out.

Even so, Fraser felt his anger rising, as usual at the most inopportune time. “I would never suggest that. I don’t believe that. Your problems are greater than simply cheating on your wife. This isn’t who you ARE.” Fraser spun to look out over the lawn again, which upon closer inspection looked overly manicured and ridiculous. All that was missing was a plastic pink flamingo, and at this point Fraser felt like planting one into the damn ground himself. How could Ray have let his life become this?

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Ray sighed behind him.

Fraser turned to look at him, and was nearly overcome by the sight Ray’s emotional devastation, written on his exhausted body and face, and Fraser cursed himself for crossing that line. “Ray. I’m sorry, my actions were…well, not appropriate, in any case.”

Ray looked up, unsmiling, but Armando was not there either and Fraser took his victories where he could.

“Makes two of us, Benny.” He frowned, and then seemed to rouse himself. “Let’s just move on, okay? Get some dinner and figure out how we are getting back to Chicago.” Ray stood up in a fluid motion and walked out of the room, Mack on his heels. The cat glared at Fraser with every step.

---

“Ray, things are…complicated.”

“Yeah? What’s so complicated about Stella dumping his ass? Believe me, I know exactly how simple that can be.”

“It’s my understanding that the dumping is mutual, in this case.”

“Hey…he do anything? He hurt her?”

Fraser could hear the defensive, protective posture over the phone. “Whatever happened is between them, Ray.”

“Okay. Okay, fine. When are you coming home?”

“We are planning to head out on….Ray? Where are you?”

“Nowhere, I’m nowhere. Just…out. Okay?”

“I hear dogs. Are you at the vet? Is Diefenbaker alright?”

“He’s fine, and we are not at the vet. Here. Woof or something, Frase thinks I got you sick.” Ray’s voice went distant and Fraser thought he heard ‘and no telling or you won’t see pizza for a month’ before a familiar woofing-bark came over the phone, reassuring him of Diefenbaker’s good health. “Okay? You heard that? He’s fine, he told you he’s fine, right?”

“Yes, he did. Thank you.”

“So…when are you coming home?”

“As I was saying, we’ll be leaving here on Monday, as traffic will be less hectic for the drive back.”

There was a very long pause, and Fraser held his breath, knowing full well the game he was playing with Ray. “Monday? Traffic? …‘We’? Shit, wait, Ben…you and Vecchio are driving back together?”

“Yes, we are. Ray doesn’t have a lot to pack, and it can fit easily into the trunk and the back seat of his car. We plan on coming into Chicago sometime late Wednesday…Thursday at the latest.”

There was another long pause, and Fraser waited for the outburst of jealous denial and rage, and ordered his thoughts accordingly. He heard Ray snort and held his breath.

“Cool. That’s cool. Just keep me posted. Hey, Vecchio’s got a cell phone, right? What’s that number?”

Stunned, Fraser had no answer.

“Frase? Fraser. Fraser. FRASER!”

“What? Oh, sorry, yes, Ray’s phone number, ah…” He gave it, and they hung up, and immediately Fraser called the 2-7 and asked for Lieutenant Welsh, because something was going on and he needed to find out what.

“Ah, Constable. Thank you. Glad you returned my call so promptly.”

Fraser blinked, and nodded at the wall, and finally recovered. “Certainly, sir. Always…available for you. Sir.” Fraser tried not to sound as confused as he felt.

“Yes, well, given Detective Kowalski’s mood, I was uncertain as to whether he would pass the message along.”

“His mood, sir?”

“Yeah, that mood he gets into when he thinks he’s right and decides to make my life difficult.”

“Ah, that mood. Yes sir.”

“So you are going to talk to him about this?”

“About his mood?”

“No, about what he thinks he’s doing with those dogs.”

“Those…dogs…” Fraser trailed, hoping to catch up.

“The impounded dogs? From the dog-fighting bust?” Welsh’s words were slow and patient, but the tone of his voice was not.

“Oh, I was unaware of any involvement on his part. I know he visited them…”

“He visited them, he’s talked to the press about them, he’s going to get on Oprah next if this keeps up. I’ve already had to put a formal reprimand in his file for going to the press outside of the CPD’s PR department. He is not supposed to be talking to reporters. I do not want to keep filling his file with negative paperwork, Constab…Inspector. He’s a good officer, and a fine detective, so would you please tell him to leave the dog thing alone?”

“I’ll try, sir.”

“Good. One more thing, Con…Inspector.”

“Yes sir?” Fraser felt the onset of a headache.

“Francesca stopped by for a little talk. So tell Vecchio that if he wants his old job back, he’s already a week late.”

“Yes. Sir.” With a final, “Thank you, sir,” Fraser hung up. He knew he should call Ray back, but in truth (and he knew this shamefully well) he was a coward. He simply did not want to know what Ray was doing to save those poor, miserable souls. He figured Ray knew better than attempt to ‘break them out’, given their vicious natures which even he had admitted to, but that was small comfort. Ray was already testy with him about his visiting Ray, however, and as Fraser reminded himself: he was most certainly a coward.

---

“So he didn’t give you shit about this?” Ray asked as they got into the car. They were headed off to dinner at an Italian restaurant Ray favored (“It ain’t Ma, but the minestrone isn’t bad”) before Stella came home from her law practice.

“No, actually…surprisingly, no.” Fraser fiddled with the vents, never imaging before in his life that he would be so grateful for air conditioning in February.

“YOU going to give me shit about this?” Ray turned to look directly at him.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Fraser tried to think back to any point where he might have complained about driving back, or having Italian for dinner.

“Us, together. Sharing hotel rooms. Won’t Kowalski get suspicious?”

“As far as he knows, Ray, you are 100% heterosexual. He certainly won’t find out any different from me. And no, I have no problem sharing a hotel room with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I know you. You’re a gentleman.” Fraser smiled, and Ray barked out laughing.

“Hey, I’m glad one of us thinks so!” He snickered and put the gar in gear.

The weekend was spent sorting and packing and avoiding Stella, who stayed out of the house for the most part anyway. At one point Fraser found himself in the garage with a box of clothes Ray was giving to charity when she pulled her Lexus up and got out.

“Constable.”

“It’s Inspector now, Mrs. Vecchio.”

She twitched at the name, and Fraser saw her flick her eyes around the garage. She was as elegant and coolly controlled as usual, but she stood with an unfamiliar awkwardness. “Oh. Congratulations on the promotion. I didn’t know.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for coming down. Ray…needs a friend, right now.”

Surprised at the compassion held in Stella’s statement, Fraser nodded. “Yes, I suppose anyone would. I’m glad I was able to help.”

She fiddled with her keys. “Did he…did he tell you what happened?”

Fraser straightened up. “What occurred between you and Ray is your private business. I am simply here to assist him with the move back to Chicago.”

She nodded, but pursed her lips. Then she squared her shoulders and gave him a look more suited to her role in the courtroom. “Ray doesn’t lie. He’s a good man. But Armando…he’s a bastard, a lying, cheating bastard. If you’re Ray’s friend, you’ll stop him.”

“Stop him?” Fraser faltered.

“Stop him from lying. Someone needs to make him stop lying. Make him face up to the truth. Keep him from hurting himself…and others.”

“Mrs. Vecchio, I’m Ray’s friend, I can only assure you of that.”

“It’s Dunaway. Not Vecchio, not Kowalski. Dunaway.” She said and walked into the house.

They signed the divorce papers in the dining room, with Fraser as witness, and that night Ray stayed at the hotel with Fraser. The room had separate beds, fortunately, although Ray presented the casual air of one who was not the least inhibited by what had happened, and Fraser was grateful for that. He was not really prepared to face up to the attraction he still held for Ray, and he was more than certain that Ray was completely confused about what (and who) he wanted. There was a chance that Ray was not attracted to Fraser at all, of course, and Fraser found that the possibility offered a cold sort of comfort. He was content to let it all wash under the bridge and appreciate Ray for the true friend he still was.

And not regret the mistakes of his past, or dream of other lives he might have lived.

They drove out of Ft. Lauderdale early, at the crack of dawn, while Ray complained about the price of gas in a tourist trap. The temperature was already near 80 degrees and Fraser could not imagine how anyone could ever call the dull-green, humid, flat bit of over-heated earth “paradise.” He was more than relieved to put it to his back, and said so.

“That makes two of us, Benny. I don’t know what I was thinking, moving here.”

“You don’t?”

“Okay, I do. It was Armando’s idea of retirement, not mine.”

Fraser nodded and Ray glanced over at him shyly.

“So what about you? You and Stanley going to retire to some Canadian shack up north?”

“Ah, well, yes, but I must insist that you don’t call him Stanley. His name is Ray.”

“MY name is Ray.”

“Many people share names, Ray. You can both be Ray.”

“I was Ray FIRST.”

“Ray…”

“Sorry…just…sometimes I wonder. About…us.”

Fraser swallowed hard, and shook his head, warding off the feeling of hope and determined not to pursue that line of conversation. “We were good partners, Ray. We are good friends.”

“Yeah. I know…so you and Stan…Ray. You two good?”

“Yes. He is temperamental, but perhaps that is my preference in partners.” He smiled and Ray cackled with laughter. “He is a bit…jealous.”

“In general, or just of me?”

“Mostly you, I think.”

“Yeah. Guess I’m his Victoria.”

Fraser’s blood went cold. “That…that is not amusing.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.” Ray’s voice was as icy as Fraser’s blood, but then he blew out a heavy breath. “Just…look, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, Benny. Just saying, I know how he feels. Every day I waited for her to show up and ruin us all over again. Ray’s probably been waiting for me to waltz you out of his life since I came back from Vegas. Not that I could, I get that you love him, I know how you are with the devotion thing. But that’s part of it, don’t you see that? Devotion. You never really leave anyone behind.”

Fraser was rendered speechless by that. Ray looked over and shrugged, and Fraser tried to think of a reply but it all circled in his brain back around to the fact that, in truth, Ray was probably right.

They were silent company all the way past Orlando, with most of the scenery consisting of cow pastures interspersed with pines and palmetto bushes. The Turnpike flowed freely with no slowdowns, even when they passed Disney World.

“Children.”

“What?” Ray snorted, sipping the coffee they got from the last roadside stop.

“Disney World. Children.” Fraser tried to pull his brain back from the distant introspection he had been lost in. “Ray wants…or at least, wanted, at one time, children. With Stella.”

“I know. We talked about kids, and how she don’t want ’em.”

“And you do?”

“Not really. Me? Little Vecchios all burping up on my nice suits? Don’t think so.”

“I’m sure your mother will be disappointed.”

“She’s got Frannie popping them out now, not to mention Maria’s holy terrors. She’s busy enough. No, the one who’s going to be disappointed is Ma Kowalski. She and Stella were tight. Still are. Every week it was ‘Oh Stanley needs to find a good woman’ and ‘Oh when will Stanley give me grandbabies’ and ‘Oh Stella have you TALKED to Stanley?’ and it drove us both nuts.”

“Yes, well. His mother is very…traditional. We didn’t want…” Fraser sighed, trying not to remember that conversation. He had tried to convince Ray that they should be honest about their relationship, but Ray lived in terror of alienating his parents yet again.

“Yeah yeah, I get it Benny. You think I’m calling Ma on the hotline to tell her the name of my mistress was Paul?”

“I suppose not.”

“Get him a dog.”

Fraser paused to change channels in his mind. “Ray?”

“Yeah, your boyfriend, remember him? Skinny Polack with bad hair? Get him a dog. He can call it George and love it and pet it and squeeze it and…”

“Why George?”

“Never mind, Benny. Dog. Buy. For him.”

“I think Diefenbaker is quite enough…”

“No no no. Diefenbaker is, like, your partner. He’s not a pet.”

“I’m sure he would agree.”

“Exactly. And see? I got Mack, here.” Ray pointed to the backseat where the cat was dozing in a travel crate twice as large as he truly needed, on a fleece blanket, with a stuffed teddy bear and two catnip-infused toy mice. Fraser looked at him, and Machiavelli blinked back magnanimously. “Unconditional love, Benny. That’s what it is all about. Get him a dog and he will never mention children again.”

---

“Ray? RAY? Where are you?”

“Nowhere! At the park! Yeah, the park!” Ray yelled back at him through the phone. Fraser could barely hear him for all the barking going on. “How’s the trip?”

Ray’s ability to feign casualness strained all credibility, and Fraser sighed. “Ray, Welsh informed me that you were involved in trying to rescue the animals recovered from the dog fighting ring. I hope that what I am hearing right now is not…”

“Hey! Welsh was just mad about that interview. I did nothing wrong, okay? They asked questions, I answered. That’s it. Do not listen to him. You haven’t talked to him lately, have you?”

“No, but perhaps I should…”

“NOT! You should not, Frase, just leave it alone, travel safe. I love you. Dief says hi…wait, you fuckers, stop!...” The line went dead and Fraser sat staring at the phone as the scenery rolled by. They were coming up on Valdosta, intending to stop soon for the night on the other side of the city. They had spent more than ten hours on the road due to Ray’s determination to make it out of the state at all costs, and Fraser felt his own exhaustion keenly. Ray had done the majority of the driving, and was even more tired. Fraser closed the cell phone.

“Oh dear.”

“He’s a real catch there, Benny.” Ray snickered.

“I should thank you to stay out of my personal business, Ray.” Fraser knew he was being snippy, but he was tired and aggravated, and a man did have his limits.

“Ooooo, pissy Mountie! Time for beddie bye.” Ray pointed at the sign for a hotel six miles up the road.

“Perhaps you are right.”

They pulled into the parking lot and Ray turned to look at him. “I’m thinking we need separate rooms.”

Fraser was utterly appalled and insulted for 2.4 seconds, until he realized that Ray was referring to himself. “I disagree.”

“Not trying to insult your honor, but…”

“We managed fine last night.”

“I know. I just don’t want to push my luck, okay? I haven’t been real good at checking myself, lately.”

“I trust you, Ray. As I hope you trust me.”

“Maybe I don’t trust me.”

Fraser was on the verge of telling him to give himself more credit than that, but then remembered that Ray had just recently been cheating on his wife. Now he was divorced and even that restriction was loosened. Fraser sighed, determined to face this issue head on. “Do you need sex so badly, Ray?”

“Hell no, I’ve had enough of that for three lifetimes.” Ray sighed and sat against the door while Fraser studied the parking lot through the windshield, giving his friend time to think. “Maybe I just need you.”

Fraser snapped around to look at him, and something flickered there, but Fraser would not call it friendly, and certainly not trustworthy.

“You have my friendship, Ray,” he said carefully, staring at him, and slowly Ray’s eyes warmed up again.

“Thanks, Benny. I’m…sorry about that. I just get…Look, I don’t want to hurt you or us or even Kowalski. You know it’ll kill him to lose you.”

Fraser looked at his hands and then looked out the windshield, and spoke because he could not stop himself. “Because it nearly killed you?”

Ray sat back as if slapped, and then threw himself out of the car to go get them a room for the night. Fraser heard a small mewl of disapproval from the back and turned to eye Machiavelli.

“Oh, you please stay out of it.” Fraser got out to stretch his legs and get some fresh air.

---

“Daisy.”

“What?” Fraser responded without thinking. He had called to give Ray a good-night something while Ray was in the shower, but Ray had picked up the phone and said “Daisy” and Fraser was wracking his brain for which code word this was, and if it meant Ray was in trouble, and what on earth he could do about it from just north of the Florida state line.

“Daisy. The dog. I told you.”

Oh. Ah. “Yes, Daisy. The intelligent Rottweiler.”

“Look, I SWEAR to you, I was just trying to get some attention on the whole thing, I wasn’t planning this, but I love her, she’s greatness, she’s…”

“You’re in love with Daisy?” Fraser blinked rapidly as Ray walked out of the bathroom in his pajamas and stalled, a look of horror on his face.

“I’ll kill him, Benny. That fucker messing around on you? I will CUT his balls OFF. YOU GOT THAT? I will CUT you!” Ray had stomped over and was trying to yell into the phone while Fraser scooted backwards on the bed, attempting to keep him from grabbing the phone out of his hands.

“Shut up! Leave Daisy out of this!” Ray was yelling back through the phone and Fraser was holding it as far away from both himself and Ray as he could.

“If you are all so hot on this Daisy, maybe you should move in with her instead!”

“She’s a dog!”

“You’re porking her and you talk like that? No wonder Stella divorced you!”

“FUCK OFF, VECCHIO!”

“NO! YOU FUCK OFF!”

“WILL YOU TWO SHUT THE HELL UP?” Fraser stood up on the bed, towering over Ray and holding the phone up to the ceiling.

“He’s two timing you, Benny…” Ray was nearly shaking with rage.

“No, he’s not. Daisy really IS a dog. A Rottweiler, in fact. One of the dogs impounded from that raid I was telling you about.”

“Oh.” Ray waved his hand in a vague apology and sat down on the other bed. “Sorry.”

“Understood. Ray, are you there?”

“If he’s done being an asshole, yeah.”

“Please, Ray…what is going on with Daisy?”

“Um, maybe I should Dief explain.”

“He’s really never grasped the subtly necessary for extended phone conversa…”

“Whuf.”

Fraser stopped himself from replying, and heard Ray in the background, coaching Diefenbaker. “No, you tell him. I am not. No, do not look at me like that, this is YOUR fault, and I’m going to lose my BADGE and then who is going buy you pizza, huh? The Mountie? He going to buy you pizza? I do not think so. Spill.”

There was another pause, then some growls and a few yips, and Fraser groaned. “Oh dear.”

Ray was back on the phone. “His idea, I swear to God, Frase. He’s got some obsession with her, now, I don’t know, he was pretty much stalking her at the pound, nearly got himself hauled in, and now this. I mean, I visited her a few times, but I did NOT do this.”

“You can tell him from me that pizza privileges, among many others, are hereby revoked.” Fraser tried to sound stern. “And as for you, you may be sure that certain privileges are also revoked.”

“Hey! I told you, I did NOT…”

“You aided and abetted Diefenbaker helping that bitch escape the pound, and now she’s loose, and probably considered dangerous. She will be shot on sight.”

“You TOLD him I drove? I did not tell you to tell him that part. You are a bad wolf. Bad!”

“Ray. Ray, please…Ray?”

“Get back here! Gotta go, Frase, sorry. Love ya.”

Fraser fell backwards on the bed with a loud sigh. He looked over to see Ray pulling Machiavelli out of his crate, cooing and petting him.

“Poor baby, all cooped up. Want to sleep with Daddy? I got some primo catnip here, make you feel all good after dinner. Yeah, good boy, awwww, I love you too. This is the lamb and rice pate you like so much…see? Eat up and we’ll read the comics while I comb you out, okay? I got the newspaper right here for you, baby, yeah, good boy…”

Fraser groaned.

---

Fraser woke up to find himself alone in the room, and Ray outside the door, on the phone. Sternly reminding himself that eavesdropping was inappropriate, he nonetheless slid out of bed and shuffled over to the door, the worst of his instincts taking over his sense of shame. As usual.

“Sure, whatever, I’m just saying…Sure, I get that, believe me, like no one else ever will, I get that, I worked with him too…I’m just trying to do the right thing here, Stanley…right, right, he gave me the same lecture. I was Ray FIRST…okay, fine. Ray. Fine…could you possibly stay on topic for, oh, five seconds?...You can ask Stella whatever you want, I don’t care. I’m just trying to be straight with you about the Mountie…don’t threaten me, you do NOT want to go down that road…He loves you, moron. You get that? You GET that? Jesus, you are brain damaged…What the hell kind of question is that? You remember who you are talking to here? Wait, are you drunk?...don’t get pissy, Kowalski. You are a fucking drama queen, I swear to God…yes, fine, I DO think you’re attractive, but shouldn’t you ask Fraser that instead of me?…This is about the dog, Ray and stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about…Hey, wait, I think I heard him, he must be waking up. Look, we never had this conversation, okay?...Never means NEVER, idiot…”

Fraser missed the last part as he dove for the bed just as the door opened. Ray came in, sneaking very loudly through the room to the bathroom, and in the next second the shower went on. Machiavelli was spread over the entirety of Ray’s bed, and he squinted up at Fraser owlishly. Fraser suspected that the cat was probably hung over from the vast amounts of catnip Ray had fed him over the course of several hours while they watched the news on TV the night before.

When Ray came out he made a big production of asking if Fraser had called Ray yet, then set about slowly tucking the cat back into his travel suite (as Fraser had come to think of it). Now that they were officially out of Florida, Ray did not feel the pressure to drive quite so recklessly and their trip up I-75 through Atlanta and into Chattanooga was made fairly close to the speed limit. After they stopped for lunch (“Ray, look, a salad bar!”) Fraser settled back and looked at the phone, then looked over at Ray.

“Victoria.”

Ray twitched at the name, but to his credit did not balk.

“Were you attracted to me then?” Fraser asked, turning the phone over and over in his hands.

“Yeah. Yeah, I was,” he said with a sigh. “Hell, I was in love with you.”

Fraser tried not to snap the phone in two while Ray kept talking. “Benny, almost everyone who meets you falls for you…’cept maybe Welsh,” he added thoughtfully, and they both shuddered. “And being with you all the time…I was a goner. But, you gotta understand, I didn’t think of it that way. I was in love with you, but I wasn’t. Even if I’d realized, I wouldn’t have tried anything. I didn’t want to think of myself as a guy-Frannie, trying to hump your leg, and hell, I thought you were straight. So either way…I would have gone to Vegas, Benny. Either way.”

“I never suspected. At all.” Fraser spoke quietly, forcing himself not to think of possibilities untried, and hating himself for even that much. Ray, his Ray, deserved better.

“That makes two of us. Benny…” Ray’s hand moved off the steering wheel and grasped his, holding it tight, completely unaware of the emotional upheaval Fraser’s slightly sweaty palms implied. They both kept their eyes on the road. “I never really understood what I felt for you until I was IN Vegas, okay? When I was going through hookers like French fries, I knew what was missing. And the only one I wanted there was you.” He let go of Fraser’s hand and Fraser curled it closed, missing the warmth of connection. “But you moved on, and no, I’m not mad about that. Okay, I was, I’m man enough to admit I hated the idea of you two…but hell, I’m the one that walked on you, and you had no idea what I was feeling because I had no idea, and all’s fair in love and war. So now I need a friend, and you’re my best friend, Benny, and I’m moving home after my second divorce and Ma won’t say it, but could I be any more of a failure?”

Ray sighed and went quiet, and Fraser reached out and took his hand again, and they held hands silently all the way through Chattanooga, where they caught I-24 (after a confusing switchback of four interstate highways colliding in a distinctly American combination of concrete that Fraser barely understood at the practical level, and could not grasp theoretically to save his life, but which all made perfect sense to Ray). They were still holding hands into Nashville, where the familiar signs for I-65 finally appeared. And while holding hands for extended periods of time was not something friends tended to do – Fraser was fully aware of that – it felt right, and comfortable, and he thought Ray (Kowalski) would understand.

He hoped.

---

“VECCHIO!”

“Yes sir!” Ray’s eyes went wide and clearly his automatic Welsh-response-system was engaged. Fraser just watched, amused by the familiarity of it all, holding the mobile with it set on speaker-phone so Ray could drive and talk without endangering them.

“Your desk is empty, and I am confused, which displeases me. When I am confused, my stomach gets upset, and I suffer acid reflux, the details of which I am sure you do not want to discuss.”

“You’re right about that, sir.”

“I am right, and yet I am still confused.”

“Nashville, sir.”

“You’ve transferred to Nashville? And does this have anything to do with the Mountie playing a guitar?”

“No and yes, sir. I’m on the road. We’re on I-65, north of Nashville, and will be stopping for the night. I expect to make it in to Chicago late tomorrow. Sir.”

“Mountie? Guitar?”

“Ah, no sir, I did not bring my guitar with me, and we do not expect to stop in Nashville.” Fraser volunteered, and Welsh sighed dramatically.

“Good. If you are getting in late tomorrow, does this mean I can expect to see you on Thursday? Detective?”

“Absolutely, sir, I will be there.” Ray nodded, and Fraser quickly leaped in before Welsh hung up.

“Sir!”

“Yes, Constab-Inspector?”

“The, ah, situation. With Ray’s…mood. Has that improved at all?”

“If he doesn’t produce that dog by noon tomorrow, I cannot guarantee that he will still have a job.” Welsh sounded weary and resigned.

“Understood, sir. I’ll do what I can.”

“It would be appreciated, Con-Inspector.” Welsh hung up.

Fraser sat silently, trying to rally his thoughts. Welsh thought Ray had Daisy, or at least knew where she was, which made sense, as Diefenbaker told him that Ray drove the ‘gettaway car’ after the break out. Grinding his teeth, he dialed.

“Yo.”

“You committed a felony, Ray. You have to return the dog.”

“What dog?”

“Daisy, the dog. I was just speaking to Welsh…”

“What? What? You’re breaking up, there, Frase…”

Fraser listened to the crinkling of a gum wrapper over the phone. “Childish, Ray. You can hear me just fine. You must return the dog.”

Now it was silverware being scraped over a plate. “Ray, put the silverware down.”

“SORRY! Can’t hear you! Bad connection! Call back later!”

Fraser stared at the dead phone in his hands.

“He always like that?” Ray asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“He went to Catholic school, didn’t he?”

Fraser frowned at the non sequitur. “Yes, for a few years, I believe he did.”

“Figures. The craziest motherfuckers I ever knew came out of Catholic school.”

“Language, Ray…”

“Got a temper too, doesn’t he?”

“Quite.” Fraser sighed.

“Reminds me of Ange, when she was young. Always going five directions at once, and never making sense until she got there.”

The reference to Ange seemed just as out of place, and jumping on a hunch, Fraser looked over at Ray. “If I may ask: do you find him attractive?”

Ray coughed but covered it and his face turned into a mask. Fraser marveled at the change Vegas had wrought on his volatile friend, who before had always been so open with his emotions and reactions.

“One hell of a question to ask, Benny.”

“I apologize, perhaps it was out of line.”

“You think? Jeeze, Benny, don’t ask a guy something like that about your boyfriend, unless it’s a dark bar and everyone is drunk.” Ray frowned and kept both hands on the wheel the rest of the day.

That night, Fraser claimed a headache and forced the “Ray and Mack Show” to an early close; it was not really a lie, he told himself, because the way Ray mooned over that cat would give a saint a migraine. Fraser went to bed and Ray claimed to be reading the paper, then snuck out the door with the phone at 9:05 pm. Once again berating himself for being nosy and disrespecting others’ privacy, Fraser crept up to the door to listen.

“The dog, Stanley?...I will call you any damn thing I want, as long as you keep acting like a first class asshole…you could loose your job, moron, your JOB, over a DOG…got it covered? What are you talking about?...ohhhhhh, yeah, I know her, what?...hey, good one. Like who’s gonna know? Not like they’ll order a DNA test…”

Ray chuckled, then laughed. “Right. Fingerprints! Ha! Next Dief will be your alibi…heh…smart, Kowalski, really smart. Hey she still in practice?...Because I got a cat, that’s why, not that it’s…calm down, it’s not like I’m moving in with you and Daisy…really? She won’t give him the time of day? Poor Dief. I thought he was irresistible…you are a sick man, Kowalski, I was NOT talking about me…You know Fraser is going to disapprove of this whole thing…start to finish, he will not approve, and he will arrest you himself…no, I will not run interference, I stay out of domestic disputes, they get messy, and at least one of you owns a gun…I owe you nothing, Kowalski, I’m being a friend to Fraser here…yes, FRIEND, you insecure teenager. Someday when you graduate high school you’ll understand how adults have relationships…yeah…yeah…okay, I hear you…what, you sex talking me now, Stanley?” Ray’s voice dropped an octave, becoming slow and syrupy, and Fraser’s stomach dropped with it.

Ray went quiet after that, and Fraser sat down, leaning against the door, wondering what was happening. Finally Ray sighed. “Don’t say that, Kowalski…Jesus, just drop it. I don’t know what you are trying to get me to admit to, but…Molest him yourself when he gets home…Ray, listen to me. This is not how you are going to make him happy, and no you listen to me, stop interrupting. He loves you, he’s my friend, and that’s it. Pulling this shit will only make you both miserable. My sex life is none of your damn business anyway…Good night…no, good night, Ray. I’ll call you tomorrow from a rest stop when he goes to stretch his legs….yeah we’d probably made it in yesterday if he didn’t spend thirty minutes at every rest stop licking tree sap or whatever. HA!...sure, sure…okay, I GOT it, I promise I’ll call…Good NIGHT…Hang up the damn phone.”

Fraser was snuggled down in the sheets and looked dead to the world when Ray snuck back in, but his heart was in overdrive, pounding wildly, desperate to know what exactly Ray had told Ray. Right then, he wanted nothing more in the world than to hold Ray close to him, for comfort and mutual reassurance…and for the first time, Fraser realized he was not certain which Ray he was thinking about.

---

The drive into Chicago was long and stressful. Fraser kept calling Ray, who never answered, and avoided calling Welsh, who definitely would. Ray looked over at him often, but his face was blank and dry and empty. Fraser knew what Ray was doing, pulling himself together before he got into the city, and he understood why. Ray was coming back with his tail between his legs, moving back in with his mother after a second failed marriage, and returning to a job he thought he had left behind. Fraser kept himself out the equation for now, because he honestly did not know where he wanted to be. Ray called him his best friend, and that was comfortable and familiar, and that was enough for now.

But the quiet gave him time to consider the many shocks to his system of the last few days, from Vecchio’s divorce, to the revelation of his bisexuality, to his stated love for Fraser which might or might not be something Ray Vecchio had relegated to the past. He decided that Ray’s willingness to engage in carnal relations was forced, something left over from his time in Vegas, or perhaps a representation of his need for affection. If Ray’s personality had been flip-flopping back and forth between “confusion” and “Armando” it was no wonder that the marriage to Stella failed so quickly, and spectacularly.

What bothered Fraser most, though, was remembering the feel of Ray’s skin under his touch – his own willingness to jump over that line of ‘fidelity’ at the merest suggestion that Ray would be open to his advances. True, he had stopped, and turned down Ray/Armando’s offer, but it had not slowed down the ensuing sexual fantasies, or more broad explorations of what he and Ray might have had together, if Fraser had only suspected, or if Ray had not gone to Vegas. It was torturous either way, and Fraser was plagued in no small part by the fact that it all felt like some form of adultery to the Ray he had waiting for him in Chicago. For all the years he prepped himself for Victoria’s return or capture, he had not prepared himself at all for the Ray who sat next him, driving quietly and pulling Fraser into his orbit.

Ray Vecchio dropped Fraser off at his apartment, refusing all offers to come up and see the new place, insisting that he had to “get home” and unpack and figure out what to wear tomorrow, which they both knew was the least of his worries.

It was well past five p.m., closer to six, and Fraser expected to find Ray Kowalski at home. Lights were on and music was drifting into the hall. Fraser opened the door, unsure of what he was walking into, and praying that whatever he found, it would not include…

“Daisy.”

She lolled in the area near the door, and grumbled or growled – Fraser could not, honestly, tell the difference – and suddenly Dief was bouncing around behind her like a puppy, snapping his jaws and asking to play. With her.

“Hello, Diefenbaker. It’s good to see you again, too,” Fraser said dryly, somewhat hurt by the undeniable evidence that he was so quickly displaced in the wolf’s affections. But then, Fraser had always suspected he would come in last behind the bitch-du-jour. Diefenbaker was nothing if not fickle. Unless the matter at hand was donuts or pizza, in which case his love was everlasting.

Daisy stood up, ignoring Dief entirely, and shook herself. The ponderous move was executed gracefully but illustrated her enormous size; she was clearly a larger specimen of the breed, despite being a female, and Fraser judged her at close to 55 kg, possibly up to 70 cm at her withers. Given that Diefenbaker weighed in at 32 kg, on a good day after pizza, their relative height mattered little. She could simply sit on the wolf and win, although clearly they had come to some form of détente, or there would already be blood on the floor.

What he noticed most of all was her head, which was short and broad and massive. All the elegance of Diefenbaker’s predatory profile paled in comparison to the brute strength held in the musculature of Daisy’s face and neck – she was designed for fighting, for winning, like a prized boxer in the ring. She was, in the parlance, a “bruiser.” What Fraser knew of the breed gave him respect for it, because Rottweilers were smart, cagey animals known for being protective. Suddenly Fraser realized that she did not know him, that he had walked into her territory uninvited, and Dief was not helping matters at all as Daisy rumbled towards him with the inevitability and power of a steam train.

“Dief, please explain to her that I live here.” Fraser whispered, trying not to sound strained. He was a Mountie, yes; but Daisy was a Rottweiler.

“Hey, Fraser!” Ray bounced out from the back room and looked absolutely thrilled to see him for all of a second, then backpedaled. “Oh. I see you, uh, met Daisy.”

“We are…getting acquainted.” Fraser said quietly, trying to remain absolutely motionless, which, thanks to his experience on sentry duty, he had a lot of practice at. Daisy reached him and circled, sniffing his feet and up his leg to his groin. Fraser held back his instinct to push her away, despite the discomfort of her large nose shoving against his testicles.

“Hey! Those are mine! Back off!” Ray jumped forward and tugged at her collar, a wholly ineffective move, as Ray’s full body yank did not distract her at all. Finally, though, his yelling her name in her ear annoyed Daisy enough that she turned and ran her broad, fat tongue over his face. “Ewwww! We had this discussion! Do not lick!”

“Ray…you did not turn her in before noon, I take it.”

“I did, I really did.” Ray was still trying to drag her away from Fraser, but she sat down and the battle of wills ended. “Yeah, okay, stay there. Good girl.”

“Ray, you obviously did not. She is right here.”

“No, I did. If you don’t believe me, call Welsh. Call the pound. Call anyone you like.”

Fraser narrowed his eyes, all too familiar with the act of dissembling not to recognize Ray’s amateur attempt at it. “What did you do, Ray?”

What followed was a preposterous account of a retired vet, her daughter the gift basket maker, a bucket of daylilies destroyed by Diefenbaker’s best intentions, a broken down delivery van, three pounds of errant chocolate, and a poor stray, homeless Rottweiler accidentally killed by an OD of theobromine despite everyone’s attempts to save her. Fraser stood motionless in the foyer while Ray paced back and forth, swinging his arms over Daisy’s head.

“And they were like, rare endangered daylilies or something, because that stupid bucket cost me $150! So if Dief gets an allowance, it is coming out of THAT…”

“You pulled a ‘fast one’?” Fraser interrupted at last, because Ray seemed determined not to finish his story any time soon.

Ray stopped dead. “Kinda, yeah.”

“You turned in that poor dog’s body claiming it was Daisy’s, in order to save Daisy’s life. It did not occur to you that anyone might…notice?”

“Hey, what are they going to do? DNA test? I say it was Daisy’s body, the vet said it was Daisy’s body…who’s to know?”

“Aside from everyone who knows you?”

Ray frowned at him, thinking it out, then brightened with an idea. “I got lonely while you were gone. Got a dog. Totally coincidental.”

“You honestly think anyone will believe that?”

“They don’t have to. The vet backs me. Dief backs me. Vecchio backs me.” Ray pointed two fingers at Fraser, and Daisy danced happily between them.

“So you discussed this matter with Vecchio, a man you profess to dislike intensely, but not me?” Fraser shut his mouth, wondering why that had come out when he meant to ask ‘Are you unhinged?’

“Hey, I never said I hated the guy. He took a bullet for you.”

“But he did marry your ex-wife.” Fraser lobbed his retort, wondering where his brain had gone. His own hostilities were not helping the situation at all, and he expected Ray to start yelling or boxing or yelling while he boxed. Instead Ray looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck, once again derailing Fraser’s expectations. Daisy shuffled anxiously, her huge head swinging back and forth between them. Dief, apparently, had picked up on the undercurrents and was on the other side of the couch.

“Yeah, well.”

“And you’ve been talking to him behind my back.” Fraser bit his tongue, and tried to think of how to back peddle out of his irrational provocations, but Ray just shrugged and petted Daisy’s head.

“Um…well, I called asking for you, and you were asleep, and we just got to talking. You know. He’s not such a bad guy…” Ray stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped backwards. “Anyway. Glad you’re home. Gonna move away from the door anytime soon?”

“Not until Daisy lets me.”

“Oh. Well, she knows you live here. I showed her your uniform and made her smell your pillow. It’s the only reason she let you in the door.”

Fraser cocked his head. “That was…very good thinking, Ray.”

“Well I was reading up on it. Owning a dog. Rotties, they’re smart, so you got to start off right with them.”

“She is a trained fighting dog, Ray. I’m not sure there is any way to start off with her at all.”

At that, Daisy stood up and bounced forward, causing the floor to shake a bit, and began twirling in small, slow circles in front of him.

“Non-threatening behavior, there, Frase. She’s saying ‘hello’.”

“I’m aware of that.” Fraser snapped, then looked down at Daisy. She was looking up at him, and gave a small bounce, with her tongue hanging out.

“Pleasure to meet you, Daisy.” Fraser leaned forward and stuck out his hand, palm down, for her to smell but instead she just licked it thoroughly. Fraser looked up at the sound of Diefenbaker’s affronted whuffing.

“I think Dief’s jealous, buddy.”

Fraser moved his hand to scratch her head, realizing that next to her skull, his fingers looked almost dainty. “That is not my problem, Ray. My problem is that you brought a trained fighting dog to our house, illegally and under false pretenses.”

“Oh my God, you are NOT going to arrest me!” Ray stepped back, and Fraser felt a low grumble come up through his hand from Daisy. He slowly straightened up and dropped his hands to his sides, non-threateningly.

“Ray…”

“Listen to me, Frase. Just listen. She is NOT a trained fighting dog! The owner told me so, he’s one of the thugs going up for bringing dogs across the border illegally, so we got the whole thing on the record. She’s a breeder. She’s never even been in one fight. She’s just over two years old and already had one litter, which was starting her young according to vet. That bastard who owned her had her there so she could breed with whoever won that night’s fighting.” Ray said “breed” as if it was a dirty word.

Fraser looked back down and he and Daisy studied each other carefully. She was intelligent, Ray was right about that; the look in her eyes was deep and filled with emotion. “So you mean…”

“Yep. She’s CANADIAN.” Ray grinned, and Fraser smiled.

“Still, Ray, you broke several laws…”

“And that scar? Not from a fight, like I said. The vet thinks it is a scar from a whipping. She was abused, Ben. Those bastards hurt her for no reason! I just…I had to do something.”

Fraser sighed and rubbed his face, remembering too late that one hand was covered in Rottweiler slobber. He looked at the offending hand. “Ray, you broke and entered and stole property…”

“Fraser, don’t argue semen…samant…words with me. Saving her life was all about truth, justice, and the Canadian way.”

“And yet, you are an American police officer.” Fraser finally grinned, pleased to see Ray so happy with himself and knowing the fight was already lost.

“All for the cause of good international relations.”

Fraser nodded, and slowly crouched down to look Daisy in the eyes, hoping for the best, for Ray’s sake if not the dog’s. “Will you be happy here? Will you adjust to being a part of our pack?”

He heard Ray repeat the word ‘pack’ with an amused tone, but kept looking directly at the dog. If she was in any way hostile, the direct nature of his gaze would bring it out in her. He was taking a risk, but he had to know if Daisy had any tendency toward aggression before this went any further. Instead, she walked forward, bumped into him, and kept going, and Fraser had no choice but to fall backwards onto his rear end. She circled in between his legs twice. Her whole body was wagging with pleasure, as her tail had been docked and there was no way for the motion to run out the way it naturally should. Then she plopped down over his lap, immobilizing him.

“Ooof.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, she thinks she’s a lap dog.” Ray snickered and reached over to grab his duffle off the floor and marched into the bedroom while Fraser struggled to shove Daisy off. Diefenbaker assisted by extolling her canine virtues, which centered mostly on his declaring what a wonderful rump she had.

“If you like it so much, be so kind as to help me give it a shove.” Fraser snarled. Daisy turned just as Fraser was leaning forward to get some leverage and they head-butted painfully. She yapped and jumped off of him while Diefenbaker barked that Fraser was clumsy.

“Thank you kindly.” Fraser snapped as he rolled onto his feet and Daisy danced around worriedly, her feet thumping against the wooden floor as she scuttled up to him and then jumped back, over and over. “Well at least someone is worried for my health and well being,” Fraser announced loudly, but Dief was too busy watching Daisy’s wonderful rump. Fraser sighed.

“So hey, miss me?” Ray was suddenly next to him, pushing him against the wall. Daisy seemed to be assisting.

“Very much so. It was an exhausting trip.”

“Yeah, driving will do that to you.”

“Ray drove, I provided the entertainment,” Fraser dead panned, and after a second, Ray laughed.

“Funny Mountie.” He leaned in and kissed him, and Fraser sighed into it, relieved. This was where he belonged. This was home. They stood kissing in the foyer until Diefenbaker and Daisy got bored watching and started trying to climb up them.

“Down! Down! What’d I tell you, huh? No jumping!” Ray was off and scolding Daisy, while Fraser leaned stupidly against the wall, wondering where the body heat went. After a moment he pushed off and decided it was high time to have a long talk with Diefenbaker about Daisy’s “rescue”, and exactly what “criminal intent” meant.

They finally progressed to dinner while Dief orbited Daisy like a satellite. Daisy ignored him completely, Ray fed them both scraps under the table and Fraser leaned under the table regularly to scold everyone. Fraser tried to not think about Ray Vecchio for a while; there was not a lot of the story he could reveal to Ray, and the rest of it he did not want to admit anyway. He was glad when talk turned back to Daisy as they got ready for their evening constitutional.

“I use a leash when I walk her, she’s not real comfortable being outside,” Ray said, pulling out a heavy-duty retractable leash and a halter. “I was going to use a choke collar, but the vet, she said Daisy’s neck muscles are so strong she wouldn’t feel it. At least this way I got something to grab onto.”

Fraser studied them as Ray straddled Daisy and fit the heavy leather harness over her. She pranced a bit, which for her was less prancing and more thumping, and turned to lick Ray’s chin. Ray kept up a pattering dialog with her the whole time.

“I know you hate it, but I can’t let you go running around, you don’t know this city like I do…easy, baby, paw here, head here…yeah, I think there might be some ice cream on the way back, if you do your business and don’t scare anyone…not me, you don’t scare me, that’s not what I meant…of course Fraser likes you, he’s just, uh, kinda alpha, you know? And he’s a freak…”

Fraser wondered for the first time in his life if he sounded as crazy talking to Dief as Ray did talking to Daisy, then decided not since Dief actually answered back.

“Come, Diefenbaker.” Fraser opened the door to find Ray standing there with Machiavelli in the crate at his feet.

“Hey, Benny.”

They looked at each other for a split second before the cat went insane in his crate, Dief started barking out a warning, and Daisy threw herself at the door, howling in defense. Ray grabbed for her harness and went down to the floor in an effort to pull her back, and Fraser was yelling at Dief to “get the hell out of the way!” so he could slam the door shut on Ray Vecchio’s shocked expression.

“Jesus Christ!” Ray was sitting on the floor, Daisy standing over his lap with his arms wrapped around her while she kept growling at the door.

“I think…I think we need to work on technique.” Fraser said, his back to the door, Diefenbaker running figure-eights between all of them.

“What the HELL is he doing here?” Ray yelled as he slid across the floor, wrestling with Daisy who was hell bent on protecting their borders.

“Ma kicked me out, asshole! Happy now?” Ray shouted through the door.

“Why?” Fraser yelled back, shoving at Daisy with his foot.

“Stella called her, told her about…fuck.” Ray’s voice trailed, and Ray looked up from the floor in confusion. Fraser’s heart sunk; he had very little cause to actively hate Stella before now, as much as he did not particularly like her, but right then he was very glad she was not in the room because he would have given her a tongue lashing his own grandmother would be proud of.

“Ray, I can’t let you in!” Fraser yelled. “Daisy is unfamiliar with you, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll…leave.”

“NO!”

Ray looked up at him in shock from the floor and Daisy stopped in mid bark, scooting back anxiously. Dief skidded to a sitting position and the three of them stared at him in confusion. Well, thought Fraser: Alpha, indeed.

“Go down to the end of the hall with Mack and stand there. We have to take the dogs out for a walk, and they can burn off some energy at the park. We’ll leave the door open behind us so you can go in.”

“I do NOT trust my cat with your vicious brutes!”

“Just like him to argue. What is he? Stupid?” Ray muttered, climbing up off the floor.

“I heard that, Staaaaanley.”

“Two words, Vecchio: cat snack!”

“Hurt my cat and I swear to God I will…”

“Gentlemen! Could we perhaps move along, here? Ray, if you would please move down the hall.”

“Sure, Benny. Make sure the hedgehog has his killer mutt under control though.”

“She’s a purebred!”

“Ray! Please! Just keep a hold of her harness. I’m opening the door now. Diefenbaker, please go into the hall and run interference between us and Ray. No, that Ray, out there…I mean, stay between the Rays. Thank you.”

Fraser managed to keep everyone on their toes long enough for them to make it out of the building. Down at the park, Diefenbaker took off at full speed to run out his aggression while Daisy kept running out the leash and then anxiously trotting back to Ray.

“I can’t let her off the leash to run with Dief, Frase.” Ray looked unhappily at Daisy, who was nearly vibrating with pent up anxiety.

“Here, give me her leash.” Fraser held out his hand, and Ray gingerly handed it over, eyeing Daisy for her reaction. Fraser turned to her and held the leash up. “Now, I am going to take you for a run. You are going to keep up. If you really must stop, bark twice. Understand?”

She cocked her head and barked twice. Fraser twitched, because while he did not understand a word she said, it was clear that she understood him, and in all honesty he had not expected her to; it was something he did for show on Ray’s behalf. But she did understand, and they stared at each other in growing awareness of exactly what they were getting into until he remembered what, exactly, he was supposed to be doing.

“Keep up.” He took off at a steady pace, slightly slower than what he would use with Diefenbaker, as she was not really built for speed.

---

“Ice cream entirely defeats the purpose of taking them for a run.” Fraser grumbled as they marched up the steps to their apartment.

“The purpose of the run, Fraser, was for them to get their ya yas out. Which they did. Which makes them a good boy wolf and a good girl doggie and they get ice cream. Hey, it wasn’t chocolate, okay?” Ray sauntered up behind him, thoroughly pleased with himself. Daisy was still licking her chops and Diefenbaker kept offering to do it for her, so they were good naturedly nosing back and forth at each other.

“Oh. I forgot about this.” Ray stopped when they got to their floor and stared down the hall. “Fraser, why is Vecchio here? What did Stella tell Ma Vecchio?”

“I’m not sure it is my place…”

“To hell with that. He’s here because he’s got nowhere else to go. He’s looking for, whatyoucallit, asylum, in my apartment. I got a right to know.” Ray’s hands fluttered though the air in frustration.

Fraser leaned up against the wall, and Daisy came over and spread herself over his feet. He wondered when his feet became natural roosts for cats and dogs. Heavy cats and dogs.

“I can’t tell you the specifics, Ray, I’m sorry. You will have to ask him yourself. But I can say this: if it is for the reason I suspect, then chances are, Ray might never be allowed back in his house as long as his mother is alive.”

“What, he’s gay?” Ray snickered and then laughed, and Fraser tried to stop the expression that he knew flitted across his face, but he failed. Ray’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck? No! He never said…No!”

“I told you, I cannot discuss his personal life with you. And certainly not out in the hall.” Fraser pried his feet out from under Daisy, who rolled backwards in an attempt to stop him, but he got free and walked down to their door. He stopped, and both he and Ray gave a long lecture to Daisy about Ray and Machiavelli. She remained unconvinced of the lack of threat to their home security, and seemed to communicate as much to Ray.

“Just be patient. I know, you’re young, everything’s a drama, but listen to Dief on this, okay? Vecchio’s good people.”

Fraser felt confusion about Ray’s apparent change of heart, even knowing of their clandestine phone calls over the last three days. But his own heart bloomed at the comment, at the mere suggestion that the Rays might somehow finally get along. He stomped down on the feeling ruthlessly to keep his expectations within the realm of possibility.

“I hear you guys out there. Should I lock me and Mack into a closet or something?”

“From what I hear, coming out of the closet is what got you in this mess,” Ray said carelessly, and Fraser paled, horrified that Ray would take the matter so cavalierly.

“Jesus, Benny, you told him?” The voice on the other side of the door was quiet, and there was a small thump that Fraser suspected was Ray’s head against the door itself. Fraser tried to figure out what to do, when Ray pushed past him and pressed up his body against the door.

“Hey, hey, chill out, Vecchio. Fraser didn’t tell me, I kind of guessed, okay? And it’s okay, I get it. We’re coming in now, so make sure your monster is crated and off the floor. Then go in the kitchen and get us a couple beers.” Ray put his hand up against the door and something strangled Fraser’s heart as Ray continued speaking, his voice low and soothing. “It’ll be alright, Vecchio. We’ll be alright. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” There was noise and after a few seconds, they opened the door. Ray held onto both the leash and harness to keep Daisy calm, and they walked in slowly, coordinated like a military operation. Mack was in his crate on the dining room table, hissing furiously, and Ray dragged Daisy away and sat down on the couch to talk to her. Dief and Fraser went into the kitchen.

“Ray…”

“Yeah, okay, I know you didn’t tell him. Guess it’s pretty obvious, what the hell else could it be, right?” Ray had already downed half the beer, and Fraser decided to slow him down. He gently took the bottle out of his hands.

“Not really. Just…Ray is a very smart man, and a detective, such as yourself.”

“Look, I swear, I’m not here to cause trouble with you two. I just…I really don’t have…anywhere…” Ray’s back was to the counter, his hands grasping the edge of it, and he bowed over, seeming to collapse on himself. Fraser stepped over and took him into his arms, and heard him whispering. “God, I lost everything, just everything, I don’t even know who I am and my family won’t talk to me and God I didn’t even know I was in love with you and I am ruined, Benny, I’m ruined, my second marriage and now great, I’m a fag, and my mother…my mother…” Ray buried his face into Fraser’s chest and held on. Fraser felt like he was barely holding Ray back from a complete melt down.

Fraser petted him and held him and looked up to see Ray standing in the doorway. There was nothing to say, it was obvious that Ray was just short of crying in his arms, and Fraser rested his cheek against the back of his head. Dief sat down and leaned into both of them, and Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser finally. Ray studied them and then walked over and pressed up against their sides, placing his arms over their shoulders. They stood there motionlessly until a heavy sack of potatoes slammed into the back of Fraser’s knees, and he grabbed onto the counter for balance. Ray reached down.

“Hey, girl, we’re fine, okay? Everyone’s fine. You just…uh, stand guard, okay?”

Daisy whuffed and squirmed until her back was pressed against Fraser’s legs and she could keep an eye on the doorway.

“That’s one hell of a Daisy Duke, Kowalski. Best date you could find?” Ray rolled his head over Fraser’s chest to look at Ray.

“Better than your rug rat out there.”

“At least I got a pet, not a house horse. You need a stable for that thing…”

“Insult my girl like that again and I will kick you in the…”

“Gentlemen, please.”

---