Finding Peace

Author's Notes: The story is set a few months after COTW. Being a fan of David Marciano/Ray Vecchio I thought it was pretty bad that Ray V. and Fraser never had even one scene together in COTW Part Two. Then they both wound up going their separate ways without even a proper good-bye. I thought that was a shabby way to end Ray and Fr aser's friendship when that friendship had been the basis of Due South. As far as language or anything is concerned, the story can be rated G, but there is a death of a main character, so PG might be more suitable for fans of Kowalski. >:-). Teresa }}

By Teresa

Constable Benton Fraser placed the last stone on top of the pile. He then rocked back on his heels to survey his work. It wasn't supposed to be this way . They were supposed to be on their way home. If only he, himself, hadn't of insisted on making camp this afternoon......

But lately, by days end, he had felt so. . .tired. (Fraser frowned at the word.) Tired was a feeling that was alien to him. Yet, this past week.. . .

He and Stan had been out here wandering about since late last winter. All through the short summer they had kept up their quest for the Hand Of Franklin. Stan had proved to be an able and amicable companion. He had taken to the outdoor life easier than Fraser had expected. Yet even Fraser, who was accustomed to the harsh northern life, did not look forward to a whole winter of wandering in the wilderness. He hated to suggest packing it in, after all, this was Stan's Big Adventure. Still, all things must end. So, when they had woken one morning to a dusting of snow on their sleeping bags, and Stan had casually suggested that. . .maybe. . .they should head back to civilisation, Fraser hadn't balked. In fact, he was eager to return to Chicago. He had hoped to drop by the police station and then to visit with Mrs. Vecchio and Franny. Perhaps, someone had heard from. . . . .

Fraser choked down a knot in his throat. Thinking back, he could hardly believe that only a few short months ago he had been just as reluctant to return to Chicago. He had ached to put the noisy, dirty, lonely city and his life there behind him and escape into the peace of his northern lands. He had lost. . .something he valued highly. . . and the pain of that loss was almost more than he could bear. So, when Stan had suggested going on this mad adventure, Fraser hadn't balked. He had gone willingly. But he had not found peace. The days were not so bad. He and Stan had kept up a friendly bickering, just like he and . . . Well, Stan's chatter had kept his mind off of things. And for the first few weeks the nights had not been so bad. Except for Stan's chain saw snoring. But. . . after awhile. . .when he had trained himself to tune out Stan's nightly cacophony, Fraser had found his mind drifting back to Chicago and to . . . people he had known there. Many times he had lain awake watching the stars twirl with his thoughts.

These last few nights had been the worst. For a week now he had felt . . .sick. . .(another term nearly alien to him.) During the day he had masked how bad he was feeling from Stan. Still, when he had crawled into his sleeping bag, he would shiver as if chilled to the marrow. If he was one who got sick easily he would have sworn he was running a fever, Fraser paused in his remembering to swipe a hand across his forehead. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe that was why he had not seen the bear. Fraser shuddered as the events of just a few hours ago began to replay in his mind.

He had called the halt simply because he had just not felt like going on. Stan had given him a look of concerned curiosity, but had made no objections Instead, he had wandered off into the bushes to take care of a personal need. Fraser had slow footed it down to the nearby river for a drink. Maybe it had been the sound of the rushing water. Maybe it had been the deep chill creeping into his bones. Or maybe it had just been the suffocating tangle of his own thoughts. Whatever it had been, Fraser had not noticed the bear.

"Ohmigosh! Frase! Look out!," Stan's voice had crackled with terror. Fraser spun toward where Stan's bug eyed stare was fixed. Towering in the bushes not fifty feet from Fraser was an alpha male grizzly. His sharp black nose was twitching furiously at the man smell. Before Fraser could focus his scrambled thoughts, a pistol crack echoed behind him. (A gunshot echoing behind him. . . .A memory flitted across his mind. . .Fraser gasped.) Even Stan, with his bat-like vision, couldn't miss a thing as big as that grizzly. The bullet hit the bear, but all it did was rip away an inch of fur and fat. With a thunderous roar of furious pain, the beast dropped to all fours and charged. He nearly bowled Fraser over as he rushed past. As the bear charged, Stan had let out an ear tingling shriek. He then spun around and splashed into the river. Never slacking his pace, the grizzly plunged in behind Stan. With a wild mix of shrieks, roars, and splashes, Stan and the bear stumbled across the river and disappeared into the woods on the opposite bank.

Fraser had scrambled up and ran to the sled. He had jerked the rifle free of its lashings. Dief had been straining at the harness, growling to be freed. All the team had howled and barked to be let free. Fraser had ignored the dogs and had splashed into the river in pursuit. He had gotten there just in time to hold Stan's bloodied, torn body in an effort to offer his friend some final comfort. In deep, silent grief , Fraser had watched as the light dimmed out of Stan's eyes. Almost with his last breath, he had whispered, "Frase. . .you were a freak, but you were a good friend. " He had smiled and was gone. . . .

A softly questioning whine from Dief brought Fraser back to the here and now. Scrubbing his forehead, Fraser muttered, "Yes. It's finished. I'm . . .I'm ready to go." With an effort, Fraser rose to his feet. For a long moment he stared glumly at the pile of stones. A stiff breeze came up from the river, blowing his still damp clothes against his skin. He shivered a little, then turned from Stan's grave. With a purposeful stride he went to the waiting sled. He rummaged out a hand drawn map and marked the gravesite. For a moment he studied the trails and rivers and places he and Stan had seen and marked. Then his eye fell on the one place Stan had hoped to see. Carefully, Fraser folded the map and stowed it back among his gear.

With a deciding nod, Fraser mounted the back of the sled. To Dief he called out the command to "Mush". They were off. It would be a journey of the whole night and the better part of the next day. Fraser wasn't even sure why he was going. There was nothing there for him, but it had been Stan's desire to swing by the spot just once in their travels. And since he was this close. . . . .

Fraser sighed and urged the dog team onward.

*

Late the following afternoon, the dog team trotted wearily into the clearing. Heads hanging and tongues lolling, they flopped gratefully to the ground when Fraser commanded them to halt. Except for Diefenbaker. The big wolf knew where they were. Impatiently, he barked a demand to be freed. Wearier than the dogs, Fraser slow footed it around to unharness Dief. Once loose, the wolf shot off like a white streak. Head down, Fraser trailed behind, steeling himself for what he would soon see. Mentally, he was chiding himself for the folly of returning to this place.

It had been Stan who had wanted to see the place. It had been Stan who had planned on rebuilding. And now Stan was gone. Just like. . . . A cold wind zipped through Fraser. He shuddered as he muttered, "Perhaps. . .if I hustle. . .I could manage to repair the wall and get the roof back on before winter sets in. If so, I could stay here till spring." But his heart was not in doing that. His heart had not been in helping Stan do that. That was why he had put off coming here. Besides, the rebuilding of his father's cabin had been a dream he had shared with. . .well. . .it was a dream in his past now. "Anyhow," Fraser continued muttering, "I should get myself to Chicago. It is my duty to inform Stan's parents of his death."

An excited bark made Fraser look up. Dief stood in the middle of the path. His curly tail waving. Fraser stared ahead, then gasped in disbelief. He furiously scrubbed his eyes and blinked, but it did not vanish. Nestled in it's little hollow stood his father's cabin. Reports had said that the fire had left nothing but a roofless shell with one wall partially collapsed. Who had rebuilt the cabin? A wildly hopeful thought sprung up in Fraser's heart. Could the cabin have been rebuilt by. . .

Dief shoved past him and loped on up onto the porch. He looked back growling impatiently. He nosed the door open and slipped on inside. Trembling with both hope and fear, Fraser ran the rest of the way. He bounded up on the porch and with a deep breath pushed his way inside. The cabin was empty. Except for Diefenbaker, who was sniffing hungrily around a large cupboard.

With a long sigh, Fraser moved to join his wolf. He dully noted the small table, the two chairs, the bed in the corner and a brand new wood burning cook stove by the cupboard. The fireplace in the end wall was cold, but wood was laid in it and ready. But whoever had rebuilt the cabin was not here anymore. Fraser opened the cupboard. He found the shelves to be well stocked with tins and sacks of teas, coffee, beans, flour, and even (Fraser smiled) pemmican. There was a good assortment of pots and pans and plates and cups. In one cup there was a piece of paper. Fraser snatched the paper and read the note--- Dear Benton, We all know how much you loved your Dad's cabin. We talked it over and then got together and rebuilt it. Don't know when you'll see this, but we hope you'll like our work. Your friends, Tom Quinn Eric David

His friends--Quinn, Eric and David--but not. . .the one who had promised to help. Slowly, Fraser shut the cupboard door. He looked about the cabin. Yes, he did like their work. It would be nice to sleep inside four walls tonight. He would be more rested to begin his long trip home in the morning. The bed did look inviting. Maybe those heavy quilts could warm this infernal chill out of his bones. Fraser stumbled over to the bed. Without even bothering to undress he toppled into the bed's softness. As he wound himself up in the covers, he was struck by a thought, "At least tonight, I won't have to listen to Stan sawing logs." And the thought was so comical, he burst into laughter.

Fraser was still laughing hilariously when, two days later, the four men came into the cabin and found him.

*

Why could he not get out of this nightmare? He needed to head out to Chicago. He did not want to be here.

Here--where every breath seemed to pierce his chest like a dagger.

Here--where every swallow was filled with stinging nettles.

Here--where racking chills seemed intent on shaking his body apart.

Here--where voices babbled too fast or droned too slowly.

Here--where there was nothing but shifting shadows of dream people.

Sometimes Fraser saw Quinn. Sometimes he saw David. Sometimes he saw Eric. Mostly Fraser saw. . . .him.

He was the one who held cold cloths on Fraser's forehead. He was the one who held the cup and encouraged Fraser to drink. He was the one who held the bowl and spoon and gently fed Fraser warm broth. And he was the one who held Fraser and comforted him when the pain was too much to bear alone.

But how could it be him when he had gone away to Florida?

Still, the pain continued to cut ever deeper. Every breath became a battle won. The chills grabbed Fraser and shook him till he was limp. His throat seemed filled with pricking thorns.

In the midst of this agony, Fraser opened his eyes and saw Stan. He stood at the foot of the bed flashing his toothy grin. Happily, he motioned for Fraser to follow, as he turned and sauntered off.

Stan looked so peaceful. Fraser longed for peace. After trying to find it for so long maybe now it was in his grasp. He struggled to get up and follow Stan.

Something held him down. Fraser fought against the gentle restraints. Desperate, he screamed for Stan to wait. Unheeding, Stan went on. Fraser fought off the restraining hold. He was moving toward Stan. He would catch him.....just a little closer.

Suddenly, he moved between Fraser and Stan. He was pleading with Fraser to come back. Fraser tried to dodge around him. Stan was far away now. But he was right here, begging Fraser to stay.

Fraser stopped. Long ago in a Chicago train station, he had pleaded with Fraser to come back, to stay. Even though his life had been ebbing away, Fraser had obeyed him. He could not disobey him now. One last time he looked around for Stan, but the blonde was gone.

Fraser turned toward him. He was smiling in relief. Fraser moved closer to him, finding that as he did, his breathing became easier. His pain was fading. The chills were shivering away. Fraser felt himself sinking into his comforting embrace. A warm sleepiness gently claimed Fraser. At long last, this nightmare was over.

*

Fraser's eyes slitted open. For a long moment, he lay staring up at the log beams. Aloud he muttered, "Oh dear. What a horrid nightmare I have had."

He extracted one arm from under the covers, but the effort of lifting it was taxing. His arm flopped across his eyes. He was shocked to find his arm bare. He struggled to sit up and shove back the quilts. To his shock, he was wearing a short sleeved tee shirt and soft doeskin pants. Puzzled, Fraser scowled around the cabin. Afternoon sun streamed brightly in through the window. Outside, snow lay in drifts.

"Oh dear!" Fraser muttered. "I did not mean to sleep all day. I need to be heading out. That snow will make travelling harder. I'll have to take time to switch the sled's wheels for the runners...."

Grumbling to himself, he tried to stand, but his legs were too shaky. Puzzled and scared, he slumped back to sit on the side of the bed. He started in surprise when the door of the cabin was kicked open. An older Inuit man, dressed in skins and furs, strode in carrying an armload of wood.

Happily, Fraser called out, "Quinn?"

Quinn nearly dropped the wood. Wordlessly, he stood and stared at Fraser. He tossed the load into the woodbox, then dashed out of the cabin.

Fraser weakly swiped a hand across his forehead. "Maybe I am still dreaming," he mumbled.

With a mighty effort he pushed himself to his feet, and started to take a tottering step toward the cookstove. Outside, footsteps scrambled up the cabin steps. Someone clattered across the porch. The door slammed against the wall and juddered on its hinges as someone plowed into the room.

Fraser turned to face the man who had blown in. For the flash of a thought, Fraser was trailing a familiar figure through a hotel lobby. For the flash of a thought, he was seeing a familiar face as the hotel room door swung open. His shaking legs suddenly would not hold him.

In one leap, it seemed, the man was across the cabin. He caught Fraser in his arms. Together they crumpled to the floor.

In shocked disbelief, Fraser clung to him. As his blue eyes locked with those green eyes, Fraser spoke in a voice that shook despite his efforts to control it, "I thought I was dreaming. I did not believe that you were really here."

"Well, I am, Benny," said Ray Vecchio.

*

"Here you go, Benny," Ray said cheerfully, as he came up behind Fraser's chair. "Hot chocolate."

Fraser took the steaming mug and smiled up at Ray. "Thank you kindly, Ray," he said, before taking a long sip.

"Careful! It's hot," Ray warned, as he sank down into his own chair. He blew on his own mug before taking a cautious sip. He then scowled at Fraser and asked, "Are you sure that those Eskimo clothes you're wearing are warm enough? Want me to bring you a blanket, Benny?"

Fraser smiled fondly at his friend. "No, Ray. I can assure you that I am dressed in the warmest of skins and furs. We are sitting in front of a blazing fire. I am fine."

Ray was not completely convinced. "Well, I hope so. I just don't want you getting the raging flu again."

Fraser chuckled softly. "It is going on three weeks since my fever broke, Ray. I do not think that I will take a backseat now. But I do thank you kindly for your concern, Wolf Mother."

Ray winced at that name. "Yeah, Quinn thinks he's a big funnyman calling me that."

"It is not so much the name, as your reaction to it, that Quinn finds humorous," Fraser said, as he took another sip of hot chocolate. "Actually, coming from someone of Inuit background, it is a high compliment."

"Yeah. But why not Wolf Father?" Ray groused.

Fraser became thoughtful. "Well, the Inuit say. . . ."

Ray held up a warning hand. "No long Inuit tales, Benny. Your lungs are still mending. You need to save your breath."

Fraser smiled. "Quinn refers to you as Wolf Mother because it is the female wolf who is the fiercest protector of the wolf pups. During the week of my illness, according to Quinn and Eric, you protected me as fiercely as any mother wolf. They said you would hardly let them do anything for me."

"It was just. . that. . ." Ray's face became drawn and his voice tight at the recent memory of his long vigil. "You were so sick, Benny, I could not bear to leave you."

A sudden memory flashed into Fraser's thoughts. He turned a shade paler as his gaze fixed into the fire's depths. He murmured, "You left me once before."

Ray heard and cringed. "Benny, I had no choice."

"I was not referring to when you went undercover, Ray," Fraser spoke quietly.

"Then, when?" Ray asked, puzzled.

Fraser sucked in a long breath as he flicked his tongue over his lower lip, Slowly, he began speaking, "I came to understand about your undercover work, Ray. I knew that that was part of being a police detective." He paused, "Understanding did not mean that I did not worry over you every day. But, I knew that as soon as you could you would be back. So, I kept myself going by remembering things we had done together and mostly by looking forward to when we would be doing things together again. I looked forward to and planned for and waited on the day you would be back."

Fraser's words quickened. "And then you were back. But before we had time to hardly say 'hello', that fiasco with Muldoon blew up and we wound up apart again. Then just as Stan and I were preparing to return to Chicago, word reached Buck's outpost that you and Stella Kowalski had gone off to Florida and had opened a bowling alley." Fraser choked to silence.

With his elbows on his knees, Ray had sat and listened. Deliberately, he drained his hot chocolate and sat the mug on the floor. Thoughtfully he gazed into the fire's glowing depths. Slowly he began speaking, "Benny, you gotta believe me when I say that I wanted the same thing you did. When that mob gig was up all I wanted, with my whole being, was to get back to my old life, my family, my friends." He shot a grin at Fraser, but he was staring into the fire.

Flatly, Fraser said, "So, you did that by moving to Florida."

Hurrying on, before Ray could answer, Fraser said, "When I received that memo telling me that you had gone away to Florida and opened that bowling alley. . . I was hurt. I felt alone. I had looked forward so long to us being able to get both of our lives back together. Then just as I thought it was going to happen. . .you were gone again! I was afraid that I would never see you again. Understand, please, Ray, that I did not mind that you had gone away with Stella, I wish you all happiness for I count you as my best friend. But as such, I thought that you would have called and told me yourself.

"What hurt me was finding out about it through a consulate memo. It hurt me that you didn't even think enough of me and our friendship to call and say good-bye. Why, you even called and said good-bye before you went off with the mob!" Fraser turned searching blue eyes on his friend, "How could you do that, Ray? How could you just up and move to Florida and not even call to say good-bye?"

Ray cringed at the anger in his friend's voice. Slowly, he began, "Welsh sneaked and let me call you before I left for Vegas, Benny. If the higher ups knew what he did. . . ." Ray paused to blow out a long breath. "But before I went to Florida the lieutenant was overruled by the higher-ups." Ray hesitated, his green eyes dark with a deep anger.

"Leaving like I did was not my plan. That was their freaking plan." Ray grunted in disgust.

Fraser gave Ray a curious frown.

Without looking at Fraser, Ray rose to his feet. He stepped closer to the fire. With his back toward his friend, Ray began speaking in a flat tone.

"Mob boys ain't the best of companions, Benny-Boy. They can teach you things you wouldn't want your Ma or sisters or even your best friend to know that you know. In the mob you see things, you hear things; man, sometimes you even do things that ain't human." Ray sucked in a long shuddering breath, before continuing. "Armando Langoustini was the baddest dude in thewhole rotten Iguana family," Ray spun around to glare down his long, fine nose at Fraser.

Alarmed, Fraser scooted his chair back. Ray's lean, handsome face had become a mask of harsh coldness. His green eyes glittered hard with cruel glee while his lips snarled back from his teeth in a wicked sneer.

In a flash, the mask had vanished. Wearily, Ray stretched high. He brought both hands down and slowly scrubbed over his close cropped hair. He swiped at his face as if to wipe off something nasty. When Ray finally looked at Fraser, his normally gentle grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Need to change your pants, Benny?", he chuckled before becoming serious. "I had to live with that monster--had to be that monster--all the time I was undercover. That can seriously mess up your head, if you let it. But I fought it."

Fraser tilted his head in curiosity.

Ray grinned at him. "Like you, I just kept thinking about my family and about you. I was constantly reminding myself of all the good times we had shared and all the good times we'd have when that whole freaking mess was done with. When I got home, I thought, 'Man, I'm okay. I am so ready to get back to my old life. . .but," Ray blew out a long breath and began to pace back and forth before the fire. The flickering light danced shadows across his face. "They would not believe me. I tried to tell them. . . .tried to make them see that I was all right, but 'No', they said. So. . .Stella and I went to Florida."

"And opened a bowling alley," Fraser grumped. He sat slumped deep in his chair with his arms crossed tight across his chest. His lips were set in an obstinate line.

Ray squinted down his long fine nose at Fraser. Thoughtfully, he spoke. "Benny, we been friends for quite awhile now, and you know me pretty good. Didn't that strike you as the least bit strange? It might have fooled some brain dead mob hit man, but my sharp minded best friend should have seen right through that bunch of smoke." Ray lightly slapped the back of Fraser's head.

Puzzled, Fraser scowled at Ray. "What bunch of smoke?"

Fists on hips, Ray faced Fraser. "Have I ever truly loved any woman but Suzanne. . .or Angie. . .or . . .Irene? And a bowling alley??" Ray threw out both hands in disgust. "You know my game is pool." He mimicked shooting a cue stick, then stared pointedly at Fraser.

Fraser stared at back at Ray. Deep in his blue eyes a light flicked on. Still, his hurt over losing Ray was uppermost. "So, you opened a pool hall instead."

"Pool hall, my hiney!", Ray huffed in exasperation. "Benny, don't you see? I was in rehab."

"Rehabilitation? For your gunshot wound?", Fraser asked uneasily. He knew the last time he had seen Ray, he had been in the hospital recovering from another bullet he had taken to protect Fraser.

"No, Benny. I was in rehab for my head." Ray slumped back into his own chair. He slowly ran one hand over his bare crown, then rested his chin on his fist. He chortled darkly, "You know, I think the higher-ups were tickled pink that I got shot. Worked in real good with their plan. Anyway, Benny, the same all-wise higher-ups who sent me off on my Vegas 'vacation' were the same ones who 'retired' me to Florida."

Fraser snorted. "Ray, you love Florida."

Ray huffed. "Yeah, and that's why the higher-ups decided to send me to a psycho ward there. Made their story more convincing. So, yeah, I love Florida when I'm down on the beach checking out the latest style of bikinis, but not when I'm shut up all alone in some loony bin."

Fraser was staring hard into the fire. "All alone? But Stella. . .she was there. . ."

Ray chuckled bitterly. "Oh, yeah. She was there to deliver me safely to and sign me in the psycho ward, then she was back on a jet winging it for O'Hare."

Fraser blinked at Ray. "But, she and you, were . . .I mean. . .I thought. . ."

"That's what the higher-ups wanted everyone to think," Ray said, with a sardonic grin. "But that whole lovebird thing was all part of the plan to whisk me safely out of Chicago. Ms. Kowalski got some kind of job perks out of playing my honey." Ray paused to stare into the fire. "But I don't think the right hand who picked Stella knew what the left hand who picked Spiky hair was doing though. I don't think they ever intended on him and her winding up together." Ray shot a curious glance at Fraser. "So, how did ol' Spikyhair take my supposed running away with his ex?"

Fraser was quietly thoughtful. Softly, he said, "It is my personal opinion that that news was the catalyst for our whole trip into the wilderness."

Ray's look was almost pleased as he nodded.

For a moment both friends were silent, each pursuing his own thoughts. Fraser glanced over at Ray, then flicked his tongue over his under lip and softly began, " Ray. . .I am sorry. . ."

"As well you should be," Ray said, jabbing a long finger into Fraser's shoulder. "You been moaning and groaning about me running away without a good-bye, but what about you, Fraser? You just up and left me!"

Fraser turned on Ray. "May I remind you who told me to go get Muldoon?"

"Yeah," Ray said, his voice pitching high. "I sent you after Muldoon but, Benny, I did not tell you to go traipsing off into the great Northern wastelands."

Fraser fell silent, gazing uncertainly at Ray.

Quietly, Ray said, "After you had captured that scumwad, I just assumed you'd come back to Chicago. The Dragon Lady does work some kind of spell over you," he finished, with a dry chortle.

Fraser swiped a hand across his forehead. Thickly, he muttered, "Inspector Thatcher and I have. . .that is we. . .We have, by mutual consent, decided it was not in our best interests to continue pursuing a non-working relationship."

Ray's eyebrows arched high in disbelief. After a moment, he said understandingly, "She just ain't the one with the curly hair."

Fraser squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

Ray nodded in his turn, before continuing, "Benny, I tell you that rehab hospital was almost as bad as the mob. Everyday some shrink with a clipboard was watching my every move, jotting down everything I said, making notes on everything I did. Man, I could hardly go to the john with any privacy. Every evening then, when I was ready to try and relax they wanted to have a long winded sugar coated gab fest, counselling, they called it. But, it was all so clinical and cold." Ray wearily rubbed his eyes. "At least, in the mob, they are friendly to you while they're plotting to kill you," Ray chuckled, dryly. "After about a month in that fishbowl, I got to wanting to see you so bad, Benny. I missed you. . .well. . .like crazy." Ray hesitated, swallowed hard and glanced uncertainly at Fraser, "Benny, I . . .well. . .I needed you, man."

Startled, Fraser blinked uncertainly at Ray.

"Now, don't get me wrong," Ray threw up a warning hand. "I don't mean that in a funny, mushy way. I just needed to hear your voice. I would have gladly sat through your longest, most boring Eskimo tale," Ray said, with a chortle. "After being hand in glove with the Iguana family I needed someone who was true, someone I could trust, someone kind and gentle. . . . someone who still believed in, and could find, goodness in this messed up old world.

Most of all, I needed someone who gave a darn about me and Benny that's you. I just needed your friendship." Ray huffed out a long sigh. "I figured by that time you were back in Chicago and aware of what I was really going through, so there was this one nurse, Tina, a cute little red head, who could really fill out a form. . .if you get my drift," Ray dug an elbow into Fraser's ribs.

Fraser rolled his eyes.

Ray chuckled before going on, "With Tina's help, I sneaked around and managed to write a letter to Inspector Thatcher, asking her if you could have a few days off to come see me. I wasn't even sure if they would let you in. The shrinks had told me that family visits were prohibited until they decided that I was ready, but man, I had to give it a try. In my letter, I suggested to the Dragon Lady that she cook up some pseudo-official reason why a Canadian Mountie might need to interview an American cop," Ray paused to chuckle at the memory of his own cleverness. "Tina smuggled out my letter and I started waiting for your reply or even you. Probably it was only a few days, but that was one of the longest waits of my life. I felt like a little tiny kid waiting on Christmas.

"At long last, Tina smuggled in a letter on Consulate stationary. I thought it was from you. I figured the Dragon Lady wouldn't let you come so you had just wrote me. But what did I get?" Ray shot a quick scowl at Fraser. "A short and not sweet note from the old Dragon herself. Said you and Detective Kowalski had disappeared off into the wilderness to parts unknown for reasons unknown."

Ray jumped to his feet and resumed pacing. "From that point on my 'treatment' went straight down the toilet. Fraser, you said that you felt hurt and alone when you heard that I had gone to Florida? Well, I felt worse, 'cause I had no clue where you had gone or even why. And you said you were afraid that you would never see me again? Benny, I was sure I would never see you again. Man, I became mad to get out of that beachfront prison and get home. I had to find out what was up with you, if there was any way I could. Finally, I just up and checked myself out AMA, and went home. " Ray said the word with deep warmth. "Ma's spoiling and cooking and Franny's babbling and Tony and Marie's squabbling and the kids screaming, plus a little TLC--heavy emphasis on the 'L'-- from Angie, did me more good than all the shrinks and all their counselling," Ray made a distasteful face.

"But still, something good about my life was missing," Ray looked pointedly at Fraser. " I began asking around at the Consulate and the police station. I came to find out that the official word on me--that I had moved off to Florida with Stella and opened a bowling alley--was sent, by accident, by Turnbull, " Ray snorted the young Mountie's name, " to Sergeant Frobisher 's outpost. You were not supposed to know anything about my going to Florida until you and Spikyhair returned to Chicago. Then Welsh was going to explain it all to you. That much I was able to get the higher-ups to agree to. I managed to get in touch with Buck. He told me that you and Spikyhair had gone careening off in the late winter on a search for some ol' dude's head. However, he thought you might come back to civilisation before the winter set in again. So, I booked myself onto a flight up to the armpit of the North. I made it up to Buck's outpost. He introduced me to this old Eskimo dude who knows Eric. He took me on into Eric's village. We hooked up with David and together we located Quinn. We trekked it in here to your old man's cabin and . . ." Ray's voice trailed away. He stopped pacing to gaze down at Fraser.

"You found me," Fraser said, simply.

"Never again do I ever want to see you that sick, Benny-Boy," Ray stated with deep feeling. "You were burning alive with fever and laughing and jabbering off your head," Ray paused to scuff one hand over his bare crown. "You kept saying things like 'Why'd he go?' 'Why'd he leave?' 'He never said good-bye.' At first, we thought you were talking about Spikyhair. We'd found your map and saw where you had marked his grave, but then you started muttering about Florida and bowling allies and I knew you were talking about . . . me." Ray huffed out a long drawn breath . "When I realised that, I could not leave you for a moment. I was so sure you were going to . . ." Ray choked down his emotions. "I had to stay by your side. I wanted to somehow let you know that I was there with you. I wanted you to know that I was sorry that you'd had to think that I'd just run off without a good-bye or anything." Ray paused and hugged himself tight in an effort to fight down the tears that were threatening. "Benny, you and your friendship is worth more, way more, than that to me." Ray choked into silence.

Fraser looked up to Ray and quietly spoke, "Ray, if I had followed my heart and not my head, I would have gotten myself back to Chicago and checked into your abrupt departure. However, at the time, I was still raw from learning the truth about my mother," Fraser sucked in a long breath. "When word about you and Stella going to Florida reached Buck's outpost, I and Stan both lost all interest in returning to Chicago. When Stan suggested we go off into the wilderness to seek adventure, I went along willingly."

Fraser became thoughtful. "It is my opinion that when Stan heard you call me 'Benny' he became jealous of you." Fraser shrugged and shook his head, before continuing. "Because of that, I also believe that he harboured deep hopes that while seeking adventure and facing dangers together we would form a bond as you and I had done. And to be perfectly honest. . . .at that time . . . I suppose, I hoped for the same thing."

"Well, did you?", Ray asked, in studied casualness. "Bond. . .I mean?"

Fraser smiled at Ray. "No. Stan was a good friend, but in all our wanderings he was Stan and I never allowed him to call me Benny."

Fraser gave Ray a wide warm smile before continuing, "Ray, believe me when I say your friendship to me is invaluable and irreplaceable." Fraser blew out a thoughtful breath, "So, I offer to you my deepest and most sincere apologies for not being with you when you needed me. I know I could not have survived being shut away in some cold sterile hospital bereft of all contact with family and friends and analysed like some common germ." Fraser shuddered. "If I had of had any inkling as to what you were going through, I would have been there for you, Ray."

Ray grinned fondly at Fraser. "I know you would have, Benny." An insistent scratching began at the door.

"I'll get it," Ray grumbled. He went over to jerk open the cabin's door.

Majestically, Diefenbaker marched in to the cabin.

Ray slammed the door and glowered at the wolf. "Where have you been all day?"

Dief glowered at Ray. With a mighty shake, he splattered wet snow all over Ray.

"Aaacckk! Stupid wolf!, " Ray stormed as he slapped at Dief.

He dodged away then strode over to the fireplace. He snarled something at Fraser before flopping contentedly by the hearth. Fraser scowled at his wolf.

"I refuse to believe that you have spent the day hunting."

Dief raised his head and yawned hugely. All his white teeth glimmered in the fire's light.

Ray came back and threw himself into his chair. "I refuse to believe that, too. There ain't a doughnut shop or pizza place in a hundred miles of here. But. . ." Ray seemed to be struck by a sudden thought. "I know where Dief could find doughnuts and pizza on every corner."

Dief looked expectantly at Ray.

"Chicago," Ray said with a wide grin.

Thoughtfully, Fraser tilted his head. "Ray, if you were to take Dief back to Chicago with you are you sure you could handle him?"

"Well, no," Ray said musingly. "I would probably need to hire someone to help me; someone who could keep him in line," Ray paused to consider, "I also might need someone to keep me in line when Welch let's me resume my detective duties after Christmas."

Pleased and surprised, Fraser smiled at Ray. Thoughtfully, he said, "If you were to find someone who is willing to take on such a difficult job, where exactly would that person live?"

Ray studied a moment before answering. "Well, all the fire damage has been repaired at my house. It still stinks like smoke, but the guest room is empty. During the renovations my baby sister had a jacuzzi installed." A wicked gleam lit Ray's green eyes. "Franny loves showing off that new jacuzzi and her new hot pink bikini."

Fraser blanched a shade of green.

Ray stifled a laugh. "I did also hear from Mr. Mustafi. Him and a bunch of his neighbours have set up housekeeping in a ratty old apartment building. It is just a few blocks down West Racine from the old rat trap."

"That is very nice to know," Fraser said, smiling in relief. "Now, if a person were to accept this 'job', are there any other duties involved?"

Ray considered. "It does seem that I remember Inspector Thatcher saying something about needing a chief liaison officer. . . oh. . .and someone to stand guard duty during thunder storms and blizzards."

Fraser raised one eyebrow. "Let's see. Taking care of Dief. Taking care of you. Working at the Consulate. This is a complex 'job'. Just what does it pay?"

Ray shook his head regretfully. "Pay ain't up to me, Benny. But I can promise the person who accepts it some mighty fine benefits."

"Such as?" Fraser asked.

"Let's see," Ray said with a serious scowl. "Benefit one--Having the love and care of a large, loud, noisy Italian family and a guaranteed place at the table of the finest cook in Chicago," Ray paused to critically eye Fraser. "That alone should be reason enough for you to accept, Benny. If Ma could see you now; she'd have a double duck fit. If I could catch a good stiff southern breeze, I could just throw you in the air and you'd float back to Chicago.

"Benefit two--Being escorted around town in a vintage 1971 Buick Riviera."

Fraser grunted. "Um . . . Ray. . . about the Riviera. . ."

Ray held up one hand. "Don't worry. Huey got great pleasure out of informing me about what you and ol' Spikyhair did to my poor innocent baby."

Fraser's head drooped guiltily, but Ray went quickly on, "But not to fear! Good old cousin Al can work miracles. The day before I left to come looking for you, he found a '71 Riv. He will have it in mint condition awaiting me on my return. Or I'll kill him," Ray said, with a smile.

"And lastly, Benefit Three--Being best friends with the best detective in Chicago." Ray's voice softened to a coaxing tone, "So, how about it. Benny? You willing to take this 'job'?"

"Let me think about it," Fraser said, putting on a deeply thoughtful face.

Dief sat up and glared at Fraser. An impatient growl rumbled low in his throat.

Fraser gave a brief nod. "Yes, Ray. I will accept your offer."

Ray leapt to his feet, crying out happily, "Great! Shake on it. Benny." He held one hand out to Fraser.

Fraser took Ray's hand. Ray jerked Fraser to his feet and folded him into a rib cracking, back slapping hug.

Shoving Fraser back, Ray grinned broadly and said with heartfelt joy: "Benny, I am so glad that you are coming back to Chicago with me."

Fraser gave Ray a wide warm smile. "I too am glad, Ray. I look forward to getting our lives back together, together. But, I am concerned over one point," Fraser tilted his head in studied puzzlement. "I was worried how, if the opportunity had ever arose, just how I would work out a friendship between yourself, myself and Stan. You, Ray, are my best friend, but Stan was a very good friend. So, Ray, could you please explain how I am going to be best friends with both you and the best detective in Chicago?"

The End.

These characters are not mine, I only borrowed them and promise to put them back when I'm done! Comments appreciated.