Minor spoliers for COTW. Rated PG-13 for some language. Death Story/Angst/Drama
 

By:Amethyst

          "Stanley Raymond Kowalski," the judge, a foreboding older man with graying hair and a no nonsense stare announced. "You are here by sentenced to death by lethal injection to be carried out immediately."

          Cries of distress rose simultaneously throughout the courtroom mixed with shouts of joy. An officer secured Ray's wrists with handcuffs. Francesca Vecchio was sobbing openly. Mrs. Kowalski had to be restrained from launching herself at her son hysterically and Constable Benton Fraser met Ray's frightened gaze from his place behind Ray's lawyer.

        "Fraser!" he screamed as they started to pull him out of the courtroom and he struggled for one final look at the people he loved.

        The Mountie was trying to fight his way past the reporters, lawyers, and other security separating them. "Ray!"

        He couldn't believe the judge had convicted his best friend and condemned him to death on such circumstantial evidence with no hope for an appeal.

         "Fraasseer!" Ray called out again as they ushered him toward the side door that would take him back to the prison. "Take care of my folks!"

         "I promise, Ray," Fraser assured, his voice breaking as he watched his friend disappear through the door. "I promise."

         Less than two hours later, Fraser stared through the large window to the execution chamber, with the twelve jurors and Lieutenant Welsh. He watched, helplessly, as Ray was strapped to the examination table below.

        The detective glanced up and met Fraser's gaze with a fearful, haunted look, clinging to the deep blue eyes that stared back. Ray mouthed something and Fraser had to blink several times to dispel the rush of tears that threatened to flood his eyes. He placed a trembling hand against the window, wishing he could reach his friend below, and knowing it would be the last time he would ever see his partner.

         "I love you too, Ray," he whispered, hoarsely.

       Ray understood the words Fraser's lips had formed. His gaze continued to hold on to Fraser's with solemn determination. He wanted the last face he saw to be that of his best friend before he... Ray felt the sharp prick of the needle as it was pushed through flesh of his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut as the toxic liquid swept through his veins. Dear God! He didn't mean to hurt her. He didn't want to die, please don't let him die...FRASER!

         "No!"

        Ray bolted up in his bed in a state of panic. It took a few terrifying moments, before he realized that he had been dreaming again. His T-shirt and boxers were soaked with sweat. Most of his sheets and coverings were twisted around him or hanging almost to the floor. He checked his arms for puncture wounds, then sighed in relief when he found none.

         He threw the covers back and squinted at the radio alarm clock on his night table. Just a few minutes after one in the morning, he'd only been asleep for a couple of hours. He made his way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. Staring at his refection in the mirror, he decided he looked like crap.

       Dark, heavy, smudges under his eyes indicated his recent lack of sleep. His complection almost matched the color of the white shirt he wore and he could swear his cheeks seemed more hollow than he remembered them being.  Ray knew he would get no further sleep tonight without help. He hadn't been able to sleep hardly at all lately, the headaches and accompanying nausea made it difficult for him to get through the night.

         He opened his medicine cabinet and pulled out the bottle of sleeping pills that he had purchased about a week before. He hated taking them. He worried about becoming addicted to them but, between the nightmares and the over exhaustion of his physical condition, it was impossible to sleep with out the little yellow pills.

        He couldn't show up at work looking and feeling the way he did. The pills left him feeling groggy when he finally did wake up. It took him until mid after noon, before he could reserve any real energy. However, they did allow him to sleep without dreaming and right now he needed that more than he needed energy.

        He shook a couple out into his palm and swallowed them with some water from the tap, then placed the bottle back in the cabinet and returned to his bed. Changing out of his sweaty clothes, he rearranged the covers a little better and climbed beneath them.

      Ray was curious why the premise of his nightmares had taken such a foreboding turn. He hadn't had such night terrors, since Beth Botrell was almost executed and his conscience had forbidden him to get through the night without dreaming about it. These new nightmares were twice as volatile, twice as real and Ray was beginning to think he was loosing his mind. Finally, the pills began to take effect and he felt his eyelids droop. Peace at last his mind sighed.

          Ray pulled off his shoulder holster and dropped it on the counter. He started toward the fridge just as another terrible wave of nausea hit him. Barely making it to the bathroom in time, he was forced to empty the contents of his stomach for the third time that day. Not that there was much left to throw up, but apparently the demon virus had found something, because he was racked with the painful retching moments later.

      Finally, he managed a shaky rise to his feet and leaned against the sink to splash more water on his flushed face. He rinsed his mouth and tried not to stare at the awful sight of his haggard reflection in the mirror. God he felt like utter crap!

        He had hoped it was just the flu, or some kind of stomach virus, but after three weeks of fighting the symptoms it seemed to be getting worse instead of better. He knew it was time to go and see a doctor about it, but his fear of hospitals overrode his good sense, as it often did concerning his health.  He grinned. He was starting to sound like Fraser now. Heaven help him!

        He'd been avoiding going out with Fraser after work, because he was always exhausted from trying to hide his condition from the astute Mountie all day long. Ray felt bad for avoiding his partner, but he usually just felt like laying down somewhere, when he did get home. Whether it was the bed, sofa, or floor if he could get no further, he just wanted to rest.

        Ray rarely slept, when he did lay down, it was just the need to have his body stop moving and the room to stop spinning. If he turned off the lights and put on a soothing CD, like Ella Fitzgerald or Sarah McLachlan, really low so you could barely hear it, his headaches started to fade.

        He tiredly made his way back to the living room and the desk by the windows. He searched through a left-hand drawer, where he usually tossed extra pens, notepapers, paperclips and assorted business cards he received on the job from time to time.

        He remembered, a few weeks ago, a lady doctor that had come to the station to report a gunshot victim she had treated earlier that day. Ray had found her to be nice enough, very pretty and not to professional that she couldn't laugh at his lame jokes. However there had been a large diamond on her left hand that kept Ray from asking her out as he was prone to do with most women he met. There were some lines that he would not cross and a woman that was married or engaged was off limits.

      He finally found the card she had given him and quickly dialed the number to her office. He asked to speak to Dr. Brook, giving his name and where he worked for reference, then pulled out the desk chair to settle into, before his weakness got the better of him and he ended up on the floor.

        A soft feminine voice greeted moments later  "Hello, this is Dr. Brook,"

      "Um...hi ya, Doc," Ray returned, uneasily. "I...er...I don't know if you remember me or not, but..."

      "Of course I remember you, Detective," she assured, warmly. "I came to see you about a month ago wasn't it? Did you have some questions about the man I treated?"

      "Ah...yah," Ray confirmed. "Um...I mean, no, not...no questions about the case. I was wonderin'...well, I've been havin' some medical problems lately and I was... It's probably just the flu but-it's been hittin' me pretty hard and..um...well  I was wonderin' if..."

      "Will tomorrow morning be good for you, Detective?" she inquired gently, letting him off the hook.

        Ray smiled relieved. "Yah, dat would be great, greatness, really," he agreed. "Thanks. I'm not...um...real good with hospitals and stuff."

      "Perfectly all right, Detective," she allowed. "I will see you tomorrow around...oh....say nine O'clock good?"

      Ray tried to still his hand. He was shaking so badly he could barely hang onto the phone. "Dat's...sure, dat's fine, really. Thanks Doc."

        Each party rung off and Ray felt a little better. He was a little anxious about going, but Dr. Brook seemed nice enough. She would probably get him to calm down for the visit.

      He rose and moved across the room to hit the play on his stereo, sighing as the soothing sounds of Louis Armstrong floated lightly around him. It was still daylight out, so Ray pulled his blinds down to darken the room in a soft shadow. Laying back on the sofa, he tried to think of anything but the pain and discomfort he was feeling. Absently, he wished Stella was here with him, but the thought turned to regret and finally dissipated as thoughs of Stella were prone to do. His ex-wife was no longer a comfort to him, but he missed her still.

      He was startled when he heard a knock at his door and inanely he wondered if it might be the woman that he treasured. However, when he slowly sat up and moved to greet his visitor he was only mildly disappointed to find a dark haired, blue-eyed Mountie smiling at him, instead of the love of his life.

        Fraser had changed into dark jeans and a gray and red over shirt with a starched collar. He wore his brown bomber jacket and of course the infamous Stetson was perched on his head. He held up a bag that offered the enticing aroma of Chinese food as Diefenbaker pranced inside and hopped up on the sofa Ray had just vacated.

      "Hello Ray," the Mountie greeted kindly, then cast the wolf a scolding look. "Diefenbaker! Ray has not even invited us in yet."

        Ray smiled a little and moved aside for his friend to enter the apartment. "S'kay, Frase," he assured and allowed the Mountie inside. Ray closed the door with a slower deliberation than usual.. "Yer both welcome here any time, me casa is yer casa."

       Fraser didn't bothering to correct his friend's appalling language skills, more concerned with Ray's slightly unsteady movements. "Thank you kindly, Ray," he returned. "I thought you might be hungry. I know I have been busy with the consulate lately and we have had not had much time together outside of work, I do hope we are not intruding but we brought Chinese, your favorite dishes."

      "Sure, Fraser," Ray agreed reluctantly, his stomach revolting at the mere mention of food at this point. "I'll...I'll get some plates."

      Fraser set the bag on the counter and frowned at his friend. He had noticed Ray's subtle decline in health and was hoping that the Detective would either seek medical advice or at least confide in him about the problem. Ray probably thought he was hiding his condition better, but the Mountie had been strictly aware of the number of times Ray had spent in the precinct bathroom, vomiting. Fraser noticed the dull dilation of those steal gray eyes whenever the Detective was experiencing a terrible headache.

        Fraser had pretended to be busy on consulate business as often as he could to keep Ray from feeling guilty. He understood why Ray was not up to his  and Diefenbaker's company, but the time had come for the truth to be said and Fraser meant to coerce Ray to see a doctor.

        "Shit!" Ray swore as he attempted to retrieve two plates from the cupboard and his hands betrayed him. They crashed to the tile below, one of them shattering.

    Fraser was there instantly, setting the unbroken plate in the sink and retrieving the broom and dustpan to take care of the mess.

      "Do you feel up to eating, Ray?" he asked as he efficiently disposed of the useless shards into the garbage under Ray's sink.

        "That will teach me, won't it," Ray scoffed, reaching for a towel. ""Hands were wet, sorry."

        Fraser knew his friend was lying but let it pass and collected a second plate from the cupboard. He started to unload the bag and watched Ray wander back to the sofa. The Detective shooed the wolf down, stretched out on the cushions, and then allowed Diefenbaker back up to nestle against him.

        Fraser walked over and stared down at the animal resting his forepaws and head on the detective's chest, while Ray casually scratched his ears. "You spoil him, Ray."

      "Got no one else to spoil, Frase," Ray shrugged, sadly. Diefenbaker inched a little closer to the object of his affection, defiantly.

      Fraser crouched down next to them, taking in the pallor and hollowness of Ray's face. The blond had lost weight, something he couldn't afford to do, and he could see from the pain registered in the pale blue eyes that another headache had hit. Fraser couldn't resist reaching a hand up and placing it against Ray's forehead, which was entirely too warm for Fraser's liking.

      "You've got a fever, Ray," he stated, quietly.

        Ray's eyes drifted shut. "Just got the flu, Frase," he dismissed. "Don't mother me."

      "You've had the flu," Fraser reminded, pointedly, "for almost a month now, Ray."

        Ray's eyes flickered open and met Fraser's, guiltily .He closed his eyes again and refrained from commenting. Okay, so Fraser hadn't been fooled what could he do about that now?

        "Don't you think it is time to go and see a doctor, Ray?" Fraser scolded as Ray placed his arm over his eyes.

      "I'm just tired, Fraser," he defended, obstinately. "I'm sure I'll be fine in another day or so."

    Fraser scowled.  "Ray." No answer. "Ray? Ray? Ray!"

        Ray's arm lowered and he opened his eyes to glare at his partner. "Shouting is not helping the problem, Fraser," he hissed and Fraser didn't bother to point out that he had barely raised his voice. The Detective's headache was probably amplifying the sound around him.

      "What other symptoms have you been experiencing, Ray?" Fraser demanded, unwilling to give up just yet, but lowering his voice in consideration.

      "Flue like symptoms, Benton buddy," Ray evaded, wearily.

      "Ray," Fraser warned. "Flu-like symptoms account for over sixty five of all known medical ailments, it may be more serious than a common virus. Now what have you been experiencing, and don't lie to me Ray I can see right through you when you lie."

      Ray sniffed and turned his head away in aggravation. That was the problem, the Mountie could read him like a book and it astounded Ray how well Fraser knew him. No one seemed to have gotten inside his head the way Fraser had over the few months they had worked together, not even Stella knew him this well. He smiled slightly, of course Stella knew him in other ways that Fraser would never know him, at least not if Ray had anything to say about it.

      "I'll go have a check up tomorrow, okay?" he offered, wishing the Mountie would shut up and leave him alone.

      "So you are admitting you are ill, then?" Fraser pressed and Ray angrily sat up, ignoring the throbbing in his head.  Fraser rose swiftly to his feet to compensate for his partner's sudden movement.

      "Yeah, I'm sick," Ray defied. "So what? Everybody gets sick Fraser, it's part of life."

      "Why didn't you tell me you were not feeling well, Ray?" Fraser continued, obviously hurt by his friend's intentional deception. "I could have helped I could have..."

      "What, Fraser?" Ray demanded bolting to his feet with the same swiftness as his rising temper. "Wiped my runny nose, tucked me into bed, fed me hot soup and aspirin?"
]
      "Well...yes I would have been happy to..."

    "I am not a kid damnit!" Ray snapped. "I can take care of myself and..." His words were cut off as a piercing agony shot through his cranium and caused his knees to buckle in protest. The accompanying nausea made his stomach drop, painfully. "Christ!"

          Fraser quickly caught his friend and settled him back on the sofa. He gently placed Ray's head between his knees to push back the dizziness he was no doubt experiencing. Fraser had watched the Detective's pupils become almost nonexistent when the pain had hit and it had frightened him terribly. He could only imagine the agony Ray was in.

      "Are you going to be sick, Ray?' he inquired softly, allowing his partner to keep hold of his hands for support. Ray slowly shook his head; unable to speak. His grip tightened painfully on Fraser's fingers at what that gesture at had caused him. "What can I do, Ray? Do you need some water, aspirin?" He smiled slightly, when Ray managed to shoot him a warning look. "Your mother perhaps?"

      "Who...who needs her when I got you, buddy?" he managed, weakly. "S..sorry Frase. Don't mean to get on ya..."

      "Perfectly alright, Ray," Fraser assured, quickly. "Some water perhaps?"

      "Please," Ray agreed.

        Fraser moved to fetch the drink and a couple of aspirin from the bottle on the kitchen counter. He helped Ray swallow the pills and water, carfully. He shooed Diefenbaker off the sofa and helped his partner lay back against the cushions.

      "Ray?" he began quietly, as he watched the Detective's eyes drift shut.

      "Hmm?"
      "Please go to a doctor tomorrow."

      "I will," Ray promised. "I already made the appointment and everything."

    Fraser was surprised and relieved to hear that, at least.  "May I accompany you, then?"

        Ray opened his eyes again. "Fraser, I'm a big boy," he reminded. "Yer not my Mum or my wife," he smirked. "Not dat Stella ever accompanied me anywhere that wasn't important to her career, but ya know what I mean. You don't gotta play nursemaid to me."

      "I am aware that I am neither of those, Ray," Fraser assured. "However, I am your partner and your friend." He frowned. "I worry about you, Ray."

        Ray met the Mountie's gaze and offered him a crooked smile of gratitude. Fraser returned the smile, knowing that such simple words always touched his friend, profoundly. Whenever Fraser spoke of their friendship, it was as though Ray could not believe someone would truly care for him as much as Fraser claimed to.

      "Dat hard to say, Fraser?" Ray finally smirked and Fraser's own smile widened.

      "Not in the least, Ray," he replied without hesitation.  Both men continued to convey, with their eyes, what they found difficult to admit aloud.

      Diefenbaker finally interrupted their mutual silence with a whining complaint for more affection, and forced his way between Ray and Fraser. Ray laughed and scratched the wolf's ears, affectionately.  Fraser forced his twitching lips into a frown as he offered them both a fondly, disapproving glare.

      "Ray?" he finally asked, when they ignored him.

      "Yeah?"

      "May I accompany you to the doctor tomorrow?" Fraser reminded and Ray sighed.

        "Like I could keep you away," he replied, wearily. "Ya'd just follow me. Okay, you can come."

        "Thank you kindly, Ray."
 

     Ray slid the GTO into its familiar spot outside his apartment building and switched off the engine. For a long moment he just sat there in the darkness and stared out his windshield, not really seeing anything. He was feeling better the past few days, despite the number of tests Dr. Brook had requested since their first appointment. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the results, which unfortunately would not be for the next day or two. Being the impatient sort of man that Ray was, he tried to involve himself in as much work and other activities as he could to keep from thinking about it.

     Fraser had accompanied him to the initial office consultation, but Ray had not told him of his returning visits for tests. Luckily, he seemed to immediately trust Sehra Brook.  He still had moments of panic at the hospitals he had to frequent for the actual testing, but he thought he did rather well. More then once, however he considered calling Fraser to come with him, especially once he was there. Ray had swallowed his fear and resisted, not wanting to worry the Mountie more.

     He sighed, reached into the passenger seat where his partner usually sat and grabbed the files he had taken home to look through. He climbed out of the car and entered his apartment building. Slowly making his way up the stairs to his floor he was careful not to go to fast and risk another dizzy spell.

        Ray had never cared much for elevators, they made him feel too boxed in.  He would take them when required without too many hassles,  but preferred the stairs when he had a choice. He pulled open the door at the top of the landing and noticed his landlady was knocking on his apartment door.

     "There you are!" she remarked as she he approached her. She was wringing her hands, anxiously.

     "What can I do for you Mrs. Pierce?" he inquired, surprised that she was asking him help on anything. She usually respected his loner status, as long as he paid his rent. Fraser once said the older woman was very protective of the Ray's privacy.

     "My niece is visiting with me for a few weeks and there's been...well a sort of accident and..."

     "Is she hurt?" Ray asked automatically concerned and forgetting his promise to go slow. "Have you called for an ambulance?"

     "Oh, no no," she denied, quickly. "She just, well she tripped and hurt her foot and she's much taller than I am and I can't lift her myself to get her to our apartment."

     "Where is she?" Ray asked.

     "In the laundry room, she was helping me you see and..."

        Ray was moving past her to open his door, where he quickly deposited the files on the counter closest, before closing and locking his apartment again.

     "Show me," he instructed.

        Mrs. Pierce clapped her hands to her chest, gratefully. They headed down the stairs and she started gushing in gratitude.

     "I hate to bother you. I know how you like your privacy, but I just didn't know who else to ask and you're so young and strong, so I thought you would be the best option."

     "No problem," Ray assured as they entered the laundry room on the lowest level of the complex.

       "Storm hates hospitals and I think she may have just twisted her ankle, but I can't tell for sure, and I was afraid to let her walk on it."

      Mrs. Pierce continued to babble as Ray caught sight of the pretty brunette in denim jeans and a Bulls T-shirt perched on one of the dryers. She had a distinctive Native look about her, with smooth dark skin, high forehead and cheekbones, a long slender nose and dark voluminous eyes.

        She sort of reminded Ray of Cher, before the singer had all the surgery. Ray could tell by the long length of her legs that she was at least as tall as he, perhaps five eight or nine if not taller. Her raven colored hair fell in a long braid almost to her waist.

     "Honey this is Detective Vecchio and he's going to help you upstairs," Mrs. Pierce informed.

     Storm gave him a sheepish look as color filled her cheeks. "Hiya."

     Ray knelt to examine her ankle. "Hey," he returned, with a quick smile.

     Ray wasn't a doctor, but he'd had enough broken and sprained bones to know when it was something that required a trip to the hospital. Her slender feet were bare and surprisingly small for her size. He glanced up at her for permission, before carefully cradling her foot and pushing her pant leg up to view her ankle. It  was already starting to swell. His fingers were gentle as he probed for a possible dislocation or break, but she still winced at the discomfort it caused.

     "Looks like a bad sprain," he commented. He slowly released her foot, trying not to jar it further, then straightening to his full height. "Wrap yer arms around my neck."

    Storm did so and blushed bright red in embarrassment.

    This only made her skin look darker and more enticing, in Ray's opinion.

    She winced, when something hard dug into her ribs, as the detective pulled her into his arms.

        Ray grinned sheepishly, and set her back on the machine again. He stepped back and removed the gun that he had sheathed under his jacket. Slidding the clip out, he pocketed it,  and then handed the empty weapon to Mrs. Pierce.

     "Can you carry that fer me?" he requested.

    The older woman took it without batting an eyelash. "Of course," she assured.

     Ray pulled Storm into his arms for a second time. "Okay?" he asked her.

     Storm nodded, trying not to think how absolutely wonderful he smelled, or how good it felt being carried against him.

        The three headed back up the two floors to the Landlady's apartment. Mrs. Pierce hurried ahead and opened her door, so that Ray could enter. He asked if there was a specific place the older lady preferred for her niece to sit. The sofa was suggested, so that was where Ray gently deposited Storm.

     "Thanks," she murmured as her aunt handed Ray back his gun, then carefully propped Storm's swollen ankle up on a pillow. She watched the easy way the detective reloaded the weapon and placed it back in the holster under his jacket.

     "Put some ice on it," Ray suggested. "If the swelling gets worse in the next day or so, ya probably should go have it x-rayed."

     "Thank you so much, Detective," Mrs. Pierce offered, kindly. She noticed the intense way her niece was watching her handsome tenant. "How is your nice Constable doing?"

     "He's in Canada fer a few days," Ray informed her as he moved back toward the door. "Some kinda convention with his superior."

    Mrs. Pierce followed him. "Won't you stay for supper?" she encouraged. "We have plenty and...."

    Ray shook his head. "No, thanks anyway," he refused, politely. "I've got some work to get done." His gaze settled on Storm and he offered her a sweet smile that made her heart turn over in her chest. "You take care now."

     "I will," she promised "Thank you again."

      Ray nodded and went out.

    Storm turned to her aunt with a look of disbelief. "Oh Auntie, I think I'm in love."

    Mrs. Pierce chuckled and went to check on their dinner.
 

     Ray sat restlessly, in the leather chair of Dr. Brook's office, for as long as he could before finally rising and starting to pace. He glanced at his watch, impatiently. He wished she'd hurry up, as much as he wanted her to stay away. The idea of wanting to know the results of his tests was as strong as the fear of not wanting to know. He had been feeling better, so he was hoping it was good news, but damn this waiting was driving him crazy. He glanced at his watch again and ran his hand through his hair, wishing one way or the other the doctor would show up, before this waiting drove him crazy!

         He was startled when the door opened and the object of his thoughts walked inside.

        Sehra Brook slowly closed the door behind her. She had a wonderful bedside manner and Ray had liked her instantly, she had a way of putting him at ease and even now, despite his frazzled nerves.

      Ray couldn't help but return the warm smile she directed at him. "Hiya, Doc," he greeted .

       Sehra moved toward the sofa at the far wall, rather than behind her desk as she usually did. She indicated he follow. "Hello, Ray," she returned. "Let's sit over here where we'll be more comfortable."

        Ray couldn't help but joke nervously as they settled beside one another. "Oh oh, yer tryin' ta put me at ease, dat can't be good."

        Sehra tried to smile at his comment, but Ray noticed it didn't quite reach her deep emerald eyes.

        "So what's the verdict? Am I gonna live, Doc?" When she failed again to respond his good humor vanished. "Give it to me straight, Doc, I can take it. Nothing can be worse than what I've been imagining." He placed his hand over hers and her eyes lowered to their entwined fingers.

         "I didn't mean to keep you waiting, Ray," she stated, quietly, her eyes rising to meet his. "I wanted to be sure."

         Damn why couldn't she remain professionally distant with this sweet man before her as she was with others? There was just something about him that drew her into his warmth and affection. He had been so scared when he had come to see her originally. Even with his tall, good looking partner beside him, she sensed his trepidation. She had tried to put him ease, knowing how hard it was for him to have gotten this far. Knowing that side of him made it much harder to confront him with the news she had for him now.

         "What's up, Doc," Ray teased.

        Sehra knew he was the one trying to put her at ease now and she allowed the small smile that tugged at her lips to surface, receiving a bright grin from him.

         Her smile faded as she spoke. "There is a tumor, about the size of a half dollar on the frontal lobe of your brain." She watched the shock register in his eyes, quickly replaced by an uncertain fear. " It's known as a Posterior Fossa Tumor and it is common that you wouldn't experience side symptoms of the tumor, until it had already grown quite large. You would have no way of knowing it was there, unless it was discovered in a general check up. It's possible that, if we operate immediately, we might be able to remove part of it, but..."

         "Part?" Ray repeated dazed.

         "The location of the tumor is too sensitive to remove it completely," she explained. "There is also no guarantee that it will not grow back in a short time, forcing another Craniotomy. We can give you radiation therapy to help kill off what is left of the tumor itself and the infecting cells around it."

        Ray paled and she sensed his withdrawal. She tightened her grip on his fingers, not wanting him to crawl inside himself as she had seen so many of her patients do when faced with their own mortality.

        "If you don't operate?" he murmured.

        "If we don't operate, then it will eventually kill you, Ray," she stated and braced herself for the explosion to come.

        Many people dealt with a possible death in different ways, usually they experienced a wave of changing emotions, rage, fear, denial, hope, then finally defeat as they tried to cope with the news. She suspected Ray, as volatile as the detective could be, would immediately fly into a fierce rage of denial. She was surprised when he only lowered his eyes and shook his head in slow deliberation.

         "I...I don't want to die, Doc," he whispered. His voice was so painfully quiet that Sehra had to strain to hear him. "If...if you operate, how long..." he swallowed. "How long do you think it would take to...um...to get bad again?"

         "There's no way of knowing, Ray," she admitted, sympathetically. "It could take weeks, or months. If the neurosurgeon can remove the general bulk of it and we give you a heavy dose of focal radiation, then it may die off completely and you could live years yet. Unfortunately, Cancer is still very much a mystery to medical science. There is just no way to know for sure. We can study the tumor, once it is removed, and estimate what we can do to get rid of it, but there are no guarantees."

        Ray nodded. "The operation...will it take long?" he asked. "Will I have a long recovery or...or will I pretty much be able to go back to work afterwards?"

          "It really depends, Ray," she replied. "Some people experience a healing period of a few weeks, and some claim they feel great just a few days later." He nodded in acceptance and she continued. "I can give you a play by play of exactly what the surgery will entail if you prefer?"

          Ray shivered. "I...no." he refused. "I don't think I want to know."

        Sehra nodded in understanding. Some people couldn't handle hearing the gory details and she accepted that.

          "Do you....you don't know how long...." he began again then broke off, abrubtly. His jaw clenched and she squeezed his shoulders, encouragingly.

          "No." Sehra knew what he was asking. "It will give you some time, Ray. Isn't that worth it?"

          "Let me think about it?" he suggested, pensively.

        Sehra saw the confusion in his shimmering eyes and inclined her head in agreement. "Not too long, Ray," she warned, softly.

        He gave her a curt nod, understanding the longer they waited the harder it would be to operate and lessen his chance of survival

        "Will you tell your family? Fraser?"

        Ray shook his head. "Not...not right away," he decided.. "I...I need some time."

          "I understand," she said.  "Ray?" He met her gaze. "Don't be too brave and try going through this alone, okay? It's better to have your friends and family beside you during a time like this."

          "I...I know," he whispered. "I...I just don't know how to tell them."

        Doctor and patient finally gave into what they wanted most and embraced each other.
 

         "Ray?" Francesca informed as she approached his desk. "There's some lady askin' fer you down at holding."

        Ray frowned and glanced up from the file he was reading. He was having a good day today. Fraser had returned from Canada and they would be seeing each other later. Ray had finally scheduled the surgery he promised Dr. Brook he would have. It had taken a long hard look at his life in general to persuade himself to proceed.

        After throwing a few temper tantrums and crying a whole lot, he decided he would have to just find a way to deal with the things that were happening to him and live one day at a time. The surgery gave him a chance and he had to push past his fear of going under the knife to capture whatever future he had left.

         "What kinda lady?" he asked warily. He sometimes gave his name to the hookers and street people he questioned on occasion, and that was the lot which usually ended up in holding.

        Francesca shrugged. "Some old lady that claims she knows you."

        "Oh geeze!" he exclaimed. "It's not my mum is it? Was she picketin' dat market again?"

         "It's not yer Mother," Francesca laughed as she returned to her desk.

        Ray sighed in relief then dropped his file on the desk and headed down stairs. He waved at the guard as he passed, then turned his gun over, before entering the holding cells of the station.

        As he suspected, it was filled to capacity with streetwalkers, loud mouth junkies, petty thieves, and a few of the regular homeless fellows that liked getting arrested just because it got them a free meal and a warm bunk. He spotted the pair on the bench closest to the bars and blinked in shock. He shook his head clear and approached them.

         "Mrs. P, I'm shocked!" he teased as he folded his arms across his chest and gazed at his landlady and her niece. He leaned closer and whispered in a conspiring voice. "Whatcha do, hit some store clerk over the head with a loaf of bread fer chargin' too much?"

        Mrs. Pierce giggled and blushed as she moved closer to him and away from the general population of the cell. "It is all a misunderstanding," she assured, quickly. "I told the arresting officer that it was a mistake but he wouldn't listen to me." Her eyes started to tear up and she lowered them, ashamed.

        Storm stepped forward, balanced on crutches with her foot wrapped. "We were coming out of the doctor's office and Auntie wanted to check out that new antique shop that was just across the street," she stated. "We started to go inside when these two guys ran out, dressed like women, and wearing masks on their faces and ran into us."

         "How'd ya know they were men?" Ray inquired.

         "The one that hit me was flat-chested, muscle bound and smelled like cigars," she retorted and Ray nodded. "Anyway, they dropped their bag or whatever, so I guess they had just robbed the store. They took off just as a cop came around the corner and Auntie was helping me to my feet. He saw the bag next to us and we were immediately arrested."

         "We tried to tell him that the real perpetrators had run down the street, but he wouldn't listen," Mrs. Pierce insisted as she sniffed in distress.

        Ray moved over to retrieve a box of tissues from the desk sergeant and handed her a couple through the bars.

        Mrs. Pierce continued. "He didn't believe us. He just kept glaring at Storm and muttering something about how her kind was always guilty. Oh, Detective Vecchio, we didn't know what else to do so I told them I knew you."

         "Don't you worry Mrs. P.," Ray assured and the older lady decided she liked the way he had shortened her last name. "Do you remember the name of the officer?"

         "Oh...um...I believe it was Reck...rock..."

         "Roddner," Storm reminded, sourly. "Officer Roddner."

        Ray's jaw clenched in anger; they'd had trouble with that officer before. "You hang tight for a few minutes and I'll be right back okay?" he requested and they both nodded. Ray caught sight of a tall black woman in tight spandex clothing. "Cheryl, look after these two fer me, will ya-don't let the other's bother 'em."

         "Anything fer you, Ray," she assured moving over to them. She ran a long, fire red fingernail over the hand he had rested against the bars. "Fer my usual fee."

        Ray grinned. "You'll be out in an hour," he reminded. "Be a Good Samaritan and I'll bring ya a present, when I come back."

         "Sure thing,  honey," she agreed, adjusting the tiny halter around her large breasts, provocatively. "I've got a present for you too, sweet lips. No charge."

        Ray rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his neck, as a delightful flush rose in his cheeks and he glanced away. "I can't accept bribes, now," he reminded, still grinning. "Especially those kind. I'm a cop remember?"

        "Honey, these wouldn't be a bribe, they'd be a little piece of heaven, just for you."

        Ray cleared his throat and stepped back, glancing toward the guard. "Yer tryin' ta get me in trouble, now be good and put those things away before ya hurt someone."

        Cheryl chuckled and blew him a kiss as he walked away. She glanced at the two women beside her and smiled. "Don't worry, he'll set everything to rights, he's good at that."

         "Are you and he...friends?" Mrs. Pierce inquired, curiously.

         "Friends?" she repeated thoughtfully, as she lit a cigarette. "I don't know about that, but he's pretty good to me and some of my girlfriends. He pays good money for information and usually tries to keep the heat off us."

         "He prefers that you be out on the street?" Storm asked, surprised.

         Cheryl shrugged. "No, he prefers we be safe, but since this is our...well chosen profession, he tries to do what he can." Her eyes regarded Storm, quietly. "Ray's not like the other cops we deal with, who are either abusive, preachy, or trying to get a quick lay with their information. He's a real gentleman to all us girls. He never makes us feel like trash the way most cops do and he never condemns us for what we're doing." She took a long drag on her cigarette. "He offers each of us the option of an out if we want it. He'll help us, but he doesn't push us." Her eyes narrowed on Storm. "And he never uses us, despite the propositions we offer him."

        Another girl, who couldn't have been more than twenty, despite the heavy makeup she wore, joined the conversation.  "I remember when I first met 'em. I thought he was so slick and cool with dat wild hair and flashin' blue eyes." She sighed. "And dat smile, I could sell his smile on the open market and make a fortune."

         "Like I said, he's not like the other cops," insisted Cheryl. "Vecchio's more down to earth, relates to the real people of the city a lot better." She grinned. "And it is so much fun to tease him. Sometimes, he gets me good, makes me blush even," She laughed. "Ain't easy to do that, with all I've done and seen. Then, sometimes, he's school-boy shy and that's just the best. More of a turn on even."

         "I offered to do him..." the younger girl admitte, then glanced at Mrs. Pierce. "Um...sorry, I mean I offered my services to him fer free. Know what he said?"

        Storm shook her head as the hooker got a dreamy look on her face.

        "He said somethin' that precious was worth too much ta give away to someone I didn't love and care for." She smiled, impishly. "So, then I offered to charge him, but he just laughed and suggested I put my wit to work for me and become a counselor for kids. You know, reachin' out to dem and stuff. No one's ever said I could be more than poor white trash and it had ta be the sweetest refusal I ever had."

         "I remember when..." Cheryl began, but shut up as she noticed the detective in question headed their way again. She winked at Storm then leaned seductively against the bars. "Where's my treat, sugar? I babysat really good for you."

        Ray glanced at Storm and Mrs. Pierce. "She didn't try to recruit ya did she?" he teased and both women blushed, simultaneously.

        They laughed and they shook their heads.

        Ray grinned and waved at the desk sergeant who walked over with the keys. "Com'ahn jailbirds, ya been sprung."

        Storm and her aunt hurried through, gratefully.

        Ray crooked his finger at Cheryl. "You too gorgeous."

        The hooker sauntered out and waved at the others that had to stay behind as the officer closed the gate.  "You're so good to me," she insisted moving in to deliver a big kiss on her favorite detective.

        Ray neatly dodged her. "I'm workin' here!" he laughed as she tried for him again. He allowed her to give him a peck on the cheek.

        Cheryl smiled and wiped at the lipstick impression with her fingers. "So am I, honey," she assured, coyly. "Always."

         "Scat before I change my mind," Ray growled.

       Cheryl waved and hurried out, knowing she would only get one chance to fly free.

        Ray escorted Mrs. Pierce and Storm past the desk and retrieved his weapon on the way. He guided them upstairs to the bullpen, using the handicap lift due to Storm's injury and out of respect for Mrs. Pierce's age. He ushered both ladies into one of the interview rooms and asked them to wait for a minute, leaving the door open as he left again.

         "So this is where he works," Storm commented glancing around as her Aunt settled in the chair beside the desk. Storm leaned against it, propping her crutches next to her.

        A moment later, they could hear a heated exchange in a section of the corridor they couldn't see.  Ray appeared suddenly in the doorway, rather forcefully guiding the young rookie that had arrested them into the room. Welsh was with them, his expression grim. Ray closed the door and the Lieutenant indicated Roddner sit in the only other chair.

        "Mrs. Pierce, Miss. Blackfeather," the larger man greeted, politely extending his hand. "I'm Lieutenant Welsh, sorry you've had such a problem at my station."

        The women each shook his han, in turn.

        Welsh continued. "Is this the officer that arrested you both?"

        They nodded.

        "We tried to tell him it was a mistake," Mrs. Pierce began.

       Welsh nodded."Yes, well let's get to the bottom of this then, shall we?" he suggested, amiably, turning to the dark-haired man seated opposite them. "Officer Rodner, would you care to explain why you arrested these ladies?"

        "I thought they were fleeing from a crime, Sir," Roddner stated.

         "Think she can run with dat on?" Ray barked at him, indicating Storm's bandaged foot.

        The rookie shook his head and his lips tightened in anger and embarrassment.

        Welsh shot Ray a warning look, he'd have his turn. He spoke again. "Now, once again, what evidence was there to support arresting these two ladies?"

         "They had the bag from the store," Roddner insisted, grimly.

        "And?"

        "A...and they were female, the owner said the suspects were female."

         "When did he inform you of that particular description?"

        "Er...well, I...I heard the call come in that it was two women robbing the store and..."

         "And when did you talk to the owner?"

         "Uh...after."

         "After what?"

         "After I arrested the suspects," Roddner supplied as sweat broke put on his brow.

        Ray glanced at Welsh and received permission to do what he did best. He braced his hands on the table and leaned over the younger cop, his tone impeccably calm, despite his menacing demeanor. "So, you detained these ladies then went to get the owner to ID them, correct?"

         "No...no," Roddner stammered.

         "No?" Ray repeated straightening to fold his arms across his chest. He stared hard at the cop. "No, you didn't detain them, or no you didn't have the owner identify them?"

         "I...I arrested the suspects," Roddner insisted, nervously.

         "You said that," Welsh reminded, watching Ray's heavy posture of intimidation, work it's magic on the younger cop.

        Roddner wet his lips, his eyes going from Welsh to Vecchio, warily. He'd heard that Vecchio was a real hard ass and as likely to beat you to death as offer you a cup of coffee Unpredictable they said, dangerous and explosive.

         "I...I arrested them and...and put them in my car and...then I went to the owner and asked him w...what was taken," he said, defensively.

         "Did he give you a description of the suspects?" Ray continued in a dangerously calm voice

       Roddner shook his head.

        "Did you ask him for one? Did you show him the two women you had in custody?"

        Again the man shook his head.

        Ray's hand slammed down on the table, startling everyone. "So ya arrested two women, without cause, without a description and without getting a proper Identification, all because they were standin' outside the shop next to a bag?"

         "I...I...they were the only women I saw. Their kind..." Roddner babbled and realized his mistake as Kowalski's eyes narrowed on him. "I...I mean..."

         "Mrs. Pierce," Welsh addressed in a low, but reasonably professional voice, before Vecchio put the kid through a wall. Welsh was almost at that point himself with the rookie. "Would you or your niece like to press charges against Officer Roddner fer false arrest?"

         "No," Mrs. Pierce returned, quietly. "I just want to go home and for all this to be over."

         "Yer lucky, Roddner," Ray warned. "I'd have had yer ass in a sling if it'd been me. Now get the hell outta here."

        The cop couldn't leave fast enough.

        Welsh offered the ladies a smile and insisted they contact him personally if they had any more problems.

        Ray, his earlier anger already fading, escorted them out. "Sorry fer all the trouble," he apologized.

         "You've been wonderful, Detective," Mrs. Pierce commented. "We are so sorry to be such a bother to you."

         "No problem," he assured as Francesca walked passed them.

        The Italian smiled sweetly at both women and slapped a file into Ray's chest. "Here's yer stupid file," she growled, then beamed at the women again before moving off.

         "Great!" Ray called after her, catching the file before it slipped to the floor. "It only took ya an hour!"

         "I was busy!" she tossed back and Ray shook his head.

        Storm glanced after the smaller woman. "Is she always like that?" she inquired.

        Ray shrugged and grinned. "Pretty much," he admitted, as a surprising thought entered his head. He would really miss Frannie. He never thought about that before. Despite the pain she was to him, he really was very fond of her. He shook his head, time to get back to business. "Well, I gotta get back to work, so you two take care now."

        He had started to move away when Mrs. Pierce caught his arm.

         "Would you allow us to repay your kindness by coming to dinner tonight?" she invited, warmly. "I'm making fried chicken."

         "That's nice of you to offer," he declined, gently, "but I gotta work tonight."

         "All night?" she asked concerned, reminding Ray of his own Mother.

         "Yah, me and Fraser gotta do some surveillance, until about one or two in the morning," he replied. "I'll only be home long enough to change clothes and stuff."

         "Oh, that's too bad," Mrs. Pierce frowned and patted his arm. "Perhaps the weekend then, you and your partner can come?"

         "I'll have to see, I may be going out of town this weekend," he admitted, regretfully.

        She nodded and her and Storm turned to leave.

         Ray awoke in the hospital. He felt as though he had been turned inside out, shaken over an old fashioned washing board, and then rolled back right side in again. He was nauseous, his throat hurt, his head pounded and he was trembling. He followed the IV tube from his arm to the liquid sack above him and blinked rapidly to focus his eyes. He slowly raised his hand to touch the bandage wrapped around his head just as his hospital door opened and Dr. Brook entered smiling.

         "Morning Sunshine," she greeted automatically grasping his wrist between her two fingers. She glanced at her watch and timed his pulse. "How do you feel?"

         "Like crap," Ray muttered and offered her a small grin. "Thanks fer askin'."

        Sehra laughed and placed his arm back on the bed. "I've some news that might make you feel better then," she said watching him glance up at her curiously.

         "This is a dream and I'm actually lyin' on a beach somewhere with a beautiful half naked girl beside me?" he asked hopefully, and she tsked at him smiling.

         "Not quite that good, I'm afraid," she laughed and he smiled, despite the pain it caused him. "The surgeons managed to get three quarters of the tumor removed, a very good portion considering its placement and they suspect from their direct inspection of it that it has been growing rather slowly, so we may get lucky and the radiation will kill it off all together."

         "Dat is good news," Ray sighed and closed his eyes for a minute, thankfully. He had accepted that the tumor might eventually kill him, but he had been prepared to hear that his time would be shortened after the surgery and that the cancer killing him could not be mostly removed. He opened his eyes and indicated the bandage. "What about my hair?"

         "They only had to shave a small portion," she assured. "It should grow back in no time." She smiled. "You might consider getting a shorter cut. Perhaps, a military style until it grows back, if you are worried about people getting suspicions."

        He stared at her as though she had just grown a second head. "Now dat would make people suspicious!" he decided.

        Sehra laughed again. "Oh, I don't know," she teased. "I think a crew cut would make you look quite dashing."

         "You don't like my hair?" Ray protested casting her a wounded look.

        Sehra smiled and bent to kiss his cheek, affectionately. "I love your hair. I'll love it still when it grows back, but I think you'll look just as handsome with it cut."

        Ray blushed and grinned. "Let's not get carried away now," he scoffed flustered and making her giggle again. "When can I go home?"

         "Day after tomorrow, if you feel up to it," she decided and he nodded.  "We'll start the radiation treatments next week, the sooner the better. What have you told your partner?"

         "Same as everybody else, dat I had a date with a gorgeous emerald eyed goddess and we were goin' away fer a few days of secluded partyin'."

        It was Sehra's turn to blush and she slapped his arm playfully. "I guess I'll have to make your stay here worth your while then, hmm?" she offered.

         Ray reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You already have, Doc," he assured. "You gave me hope."

        Sehra blinked away her tears and tried to smile, returning his squeeze before releasing his hand and moving away.  "I'll be in to check on you later," she promised. "Would you like me to bring you anything?"

        Ray shook his head and watched her leave, then settled back against his pillows, his headache lessening finally enough to allow him to go back to sleep.

         "It's all yer fault, Fraser!" Ray insisted as they climbed the stairs to the detective's apartment, both of them dripping wet. "It's like yer attracted to water or somethin'.  Every couple a weeks you pull some fool stunt that gets us soaked. Like yer tryin' ta make me catch phenomena."

         "That's just silly, Ray," Fraser returned as Ray unlocked his apartment door.

        The Mountie appeared decidedly less sodden than his partner and his red serge uniform still looked practically perfect. Ray couldn't imagine what it was like to walk around wearing wet wool and he shivered as he automatically pulled off his shirt, sock and boots.

         "Yer lucky I keep some of yer clothes here, buddy, cause we ain't got time to stop at the consulate fer you to change," he stated as he wandered into his room out of sight.

        Fraser closed the front door and glared at Diefenbaker as the wolf stood beside him and shook the moisture from his fur, decisively. "Ingrate," he muttered and set his stetson on the counter.

         Ray had been in decidedly good spirits the past week or so and it could only be assumed that his impromptu vacation had worked out. Ray had returned his usually chipper and energetic self, sporting a gray, smart looking salt and pepper cap that apparently his new lady friend had given him. The detective had been wearing it everyday at the precinct and rarely took it off, so Fraser assumed the woman must be special indeed for her gift to receive such devotion, despite the taunts Ray received from his coworkers.

          Whenever anyone tried to pry some information from his friend about the secret liaison, Ray was decidedly closed mouth, using Fraser's excuse of chivalry to refuse to kiss and tell. When Fraser inquired of his health, Ray continued to remind the Mountie of the dangers of 'Mothering him' and  Fraser would let it drop. Besides, Ray seemed much healthier than his previous condition had left him, so Fraser shouldn't be worried.

         However, the Mountie could not hide his shock after their recent pursuit had led them in through a car wash and they had both gotten soaked, with their suspect. Once the man had been cuffed and escorted to the vehicle, Ray had pulled off his cap for the first time and wiped the clinging moisture from his face and hair; or rather what there was of his hair.

        Fraser simply couldn't believe that Ray's exuberantly wild blond spikes had been replaced by a painfully short military style cut, that seemed so close to his scalp you could barely tell where his flesh stopped and his hair began. The only real indication were the tiny rigid spikes that pressed upwards from his head in a strict cut.  Fraser had noticed Ray had shaved his hair on the side and the back, where the cap did not cover, but he never would have suspected the blond would have cut it so short all the way around.

         Ray had laughed at the Mounties's gaping expression of his hair, explaining that he had done it on a dare while he was away and that Fraser shouldn't worry, because he was growing it back. This appeased Fraser somewhat, but he hadn't been able to keep from staring at Ray the rest of the way home. Fraser, of course, not wanting to appear rude, quickly informed Ray that he looked quite attractive and stylish with his new hair.

         "You're also lucky I'm not as prone to violence as I used to be," Ray continued as he returned from his room, dressed in fresh jeans and socks, with a T-shirt in each hand.

        Again, Fraser's eyes drifted to Ray's head, and he found himself missing the longer, turbulent looking hair style his partner had once sported more than he would ever have thought he would.

         "I am grateful for that, Ray," he assured and moved to the hall closet where a spare pair of his jeans, a sweater and his extra brown bomber jacket stood. Ray often offered to let Fraser come over and do his laundry, since there wasn't one at the consulate and Fraser almost always ended up leaving clothing behind, mixed up with Ray's.

         "Here!" Ray tossed one of the shirts to Fraser, who caught it easily. "Too hot fer a sweater."

         "Thank you kindly, Ray," Fraser returned pulling a pair of jeans from the hanger and closing the closet door.

        Diefenbaker wandered over next to his favorite American and Ray shot him a warning glance.

        "You shake on me and I'll only feed you that nasty kibble Fraser buys you," he threatened. "No doughnuts and no coffee for a month."

        Diefenbaker immediately returned to his spot by the sofa to lick his fur clean.

        Fraser headed toward Ray's room to change. "You spoil him, Ray," he stated, disapprovingly as he paused at the doorway of the room.

        Ray grinned. "Yah, but he listens to me," he reminded and Fraser muttered something under his breath and turned away. Ray called him back. "Hey?"

        Fraser appeared in the doorway again. "

        I left some unmentionables." Ray wiggled his eyebrows, as Fraser smirked and tried not to blush. "On the bed. Don't know if they're yers or mine, so help yerself."

        Fraser thanked him again as a knock sounded at the door.

        Ray moved to answer it, as Fraser went to change.

        Storm started to smile in greeting, as the door opened, but faltered when she noticed the detective's bare chest, pale, smooth and very enticing, with the promise of a hidden strength. Her ankle had healed up and she had been trying to find a reason to see the Ray again. Her aunt had made some brownies and had asked if Storm could bring some up to him. Storm was grateful to do it, for it gave her the excuse she needed. She also noticed Ray's new hair cut and like Fraser tried to hide her shock. She rather liked it actually, it made him look like one of those military posters of the perfect GI.

      "Um...hi." Storm greeted smiling. "My aunt made some brownies and thought you might like some."

        Ray shrugged into his T-shirt, unaware of her appraisal. "She didn't have to do dat," he insisted and Storm shrugged helplessly.

          "I told Auntie you'd probably think she was being pushy. She said you liked your privacy, but..."

         "Oh, no!" Ray quickly assured. "It's not dat, I just...well she's just really sweet to think of me." He stepped aside and waved her in. "Com'on in."

         Storm stepped over the threshold hesitantly and Ray closed the door as Fraser exited the bedroom.

         "Ray, is this blue shirt yours or mine?" he inquired holding up the simple navy button down. His eyes rested on Storm. "Oh, hello."

         "Storm, this is my partner, Constable Benton Fraser," Ray introduced as he accepted the colorful tin from her and set it on the counter. "Frase, Storm Blackfeather. She's my landlady's niece." He winked at her. "And an ex-jailbird."

        Storm blushed prettily at his teasing, and Fraser refrained from commenting on it. Ray had told him what had happened earlier, regarding the two ladies.

         "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Blackfeather," he offered, politely.

        Ray moved to inspect the shirt Fraser held. "This is yers," he told the Mountie. "Mine has a tear in the sleeve."

        Fraser nodded; it was the only article of clothing that they ever confused, other than their plain white socks and sometimes their jeans. Fraser had commented that he liked the blue shirt one-day when his partner wore it, so Ray had managed to find one for him as a Christmas gift. Fraser had been delighted and he wore the shirt often to show his pleasure at the gift. It was a simple cotton cut with a short collar and long cuffed sleeves, which Ray usually, wore rolled up. But it was a roomy shirt, so the detective often wore it loose to hide his holster.

         "I...it's nice to meet you as well, Constable," Storm returned, finally. "My Aunt has mentioned you to me before I believe."

         "She is a charming lady," Fraser confirmed smiling.

      Storm nodded quickly then turned her attention back to Ray, who was fastening his shoulder holster over his T-shirt. "I...we hope you enjoy the brownies and....um...Auntie said to be careful if you are working tonight," she managed, flustered as she watched the detective check the magazine in his gun then slide it into the holster effectively.

        Ray retrieved his boots and slipped them on. "I'll walk you back," he offered as he pulled his gray jacket from the closet, behind him, and retrieved a ball cap from the closet, since his other hat was wet. "Thank her personally." He glanced at Fraser. "I'll be back in a minute."

         "Very well, Ray," Fraser replied easily, then to Storm. "It was very nice to meet you Miss. BlackFeather."

        Storm murmured a response then followed Ray out, her heart pounding in her chest. How could life be so cruel? She finally found a guy she really liked and it appeared he was already involved with the Mountie. She could understand the detective's choice of course, Fraser was incredibly handsome, but it still hurt like hell. Perhaps, her friend Joanne was right; all the good ones were either taken or gay.

         "I...you're partner seems very nice," she said as they stepped into the lift and headed for the first floor.

        Ray nodded and he adjusted the Bulls cap over his head. "Yah, everybody likes Fraser," he commented. "Unless yer a bad guy, then they just find him really annoying."

        Storm smiled. "How long have you too been together?"

         "Oh, almost six months now."

         "Is he planing on moving in with you?" she inquired, before she could stop herself. She blushed. "I...I mean my Aunt could probably get you a deal on one of the larger apartments."

        Ray regarded her quietly for a moment, then the elevator doors opened and they stepped out. "I like my apartment," he replied, slowly. "It's just right fer me and Fraser has his own place, well sorta. I can't see us bein' roomies. We'd end up killin' each other if we were together twenty four seven."

         "Surely you could work those little things out for the sake of being together," Storm reasoned, surprised to find herself getting so brazenly personal. "I mean all couples go through an adjustment period that..."

         "What did you just say?" he demanded, stopping suddenly in the hallway and staring at her shocked. "You think me and Frase....that we...are...." He made motions with his hands when he could not bring himself to form the words and she blushed. "No Way! The Mountie's as straight as an arrow and I am seriously heterosexual, I was even married once! How the hell did you come up that we were gay?"

         "I...well...he...he came out of your room and...and the shirt and..." Storm stammered, aghast at her error.

         "I do his laundry for him sometimes and he usually leaves a few changes of clothes at my place fer when we're doin' a stake out and he needs to change into somethin' more comfortable." He glared at her. "Why am I explaining this to you? It's none of yer business what my relationship with my partner is either way!"

         "I'm sorry," Storm whispered, lowering her eyes contritely She deserved his anger, she had no right to pry into his personal affairs. When she glanced up timidly Ray's expression had softened and his eyes were no longer sparkling with offense.

         "Look, I...I didn't mean to yell," he apologized. "I...you just...I never expected someone to think..." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. "Fraser's my best friend and my partner, but he's also straight and if yer interested in him then you know now you got a shot, although he gets real nervous around the ladies sometimes."

         Storm shook her head. "I...I'm not interested in him."

         "Then why were ya so....." Ray's eyes narrowed. "Then what difference would it make he was straight or gay?"

        Storm shook her head again.  "I don't care if he is or not. I...I thought...it was more...um... distressing to learn you might be."

        Ray regarded her in shock. "Me?" he declared, surprised. "Why would ya care if I was...." The look she gave him said it all as she blushed again. "Oooohhh...ah....I get it." He shifted his weight slightly and scratched the back of his neck. "Um...you were upset because you...well...um...." He paused, his eyes going everywhere but her as he continued to nervously fidget. This wasn't fair! A beautiful woman actually had an interest in him and he was...well, he might not be around long enough to enjoy it, it just wasn't fair. "Well, I'm...I'm not...gay that is...I'm...er straight...real straight. I love women in fact." Finally, his eyes met hers. "Thank yer aunt fer me, I gotta go we're...er...runnin' late." He was off and ducking into the elevator before she could respond.

        Storm growled at her own stupidity and leaned against the nearest wall, banging her head against the plaster repeatedly.

         "She seems very nice, Ray," Fraser offered as they sat in the darkened alley inside Ray's GTO.

         "Hmmm? Who, Fraser?" Ray asked, startled.

        He hadn't been paying attention to what the Mountie was saying, nothing unusual there. His mind tended to wander more than usual lately, trying to deal with his sudden mortality had made him extremely thoughtful.

         "Miss. Blackfeather," Fraser supplied. "She seems very nice."

         "She thought we were gay," Ray blurted before he could stop himself and Fraser blushed.

         "Oh Dear!" he chuckled. "I trust you set her straight?"

        Ray chuckled at his play on words, wondering if the Mountie did that intentionally or was simply oblivious to his pun. "Yah," he returned as he stared at the warehouse across the street and sipped his coffee. "I thought she was upset 'cause she thought you were gay. Y'know how the women fall all over you. I thought maybe we ruined her life or something."

         "Now really, Ray," Fraser scolded. "My preference shouldn't matter to her or any one else one way or the other, especially if it is someone I have only just met."

         "Yer a moron, Fraser."

         "Excuse me?"

         "Yer an obtuse moron," Ray corrected with a grin. "Women would be out doin' away with themselves if it was suggested you were gay. They wouldn't be able to stand it. It'd be like sec...sac...sacra...a really bad thing."

         "Sacrilegious, Ray?" Fraser offered and the detective nodded. "That's just silly, Ray. I am not a God, Saint or any other revered person, to be deemed worthy of sacrificing oneself."

         "I'd sacrifice fer ya, Fraser," Ray offered, quietly.

         Fraser blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected such a profound and honest statement from his partner, but then Kowalski rarely missed the opportunity to surprise him. Ray had already proven his loyalty on their first meeting, when he took a bullet meant for Fraser from Greta Garbo. His partner had been wearing a vest, but she could have easily shot him somewhere more vital and therefore not protected. Ray had bravely jumped in front of the Mountie anyway, despite his claim that he risked his neck for no one.

         "And I you, Ray," Fraser returned, truthfully, "but to expect some woman, that I do not even know would..."

         "I'm just teasin' ya, buddy," Ray sighed, letting the Canadian off the hook before he started to blither and gave Ray a headache. "But, you do get a lot of attention. Hell, the way you look people would have to be blind not to notice, but I just, y'know thought Storm was upset over what she thought we were."

         "Was she upset over it, Ray?"

         "Kinda," Ray admitted. "Just not the way I thought."

        Fraser frowned. "I'm afraid I don't follow you, Ray."

         "She was...um...upset because, well she thought that...well that I was gay," Ray admitted, uneasily.

        Fraser regarded him, quietly. "That stands to reason then that she was relieved when you told her you were not?" he inquired and Ray nodded. "So she has feelings for you then?"

         "I dunno, Fraser," Ray returned. "I...she's Mrs. Pierce's niece and...well it doesn't seem right to...well get involved with the relatives of the person you pay rent to. Besides, she's only stayin' awhile."

         "Perhaps, she could be convinced to stay longer?" Fraser offered.

         Ray shook his head and remained silent.

        Fraser continued. "Unless, of course, your mysterious lady from this weekend past means more to you than just a casual encounter?"

        Ray did not offer a comment one way or the other.

        "Hmmm."

         "Do. Not. Do. That. Fraser," Ray warned.

         "Sorry, Ray," Fraser returned. "I was just agreeing with you. In reality, I can well understand your dilemma, it is much the same as my problem with Francesca."

         "You like Frannie, she likes you, where's the problem?" Ray demanded.

        Whether Fraser admitted his feelings or not Ray had somehow managed to see inside his heart with regards to the pretty Italian that worked with them. Fraser accepted that his new partner would comment on the relationship, occasionally, that was just the way Ray was.

         "She is Ray Vecchio's sister," Fraser reminded and Ray grinned.

         "I'm Ray Vecchio," he rebuked. "And I say go fer it. I'm givin' ya permission.

         "Ray, you are not really Ray Vecchio."

         "Prove it." Ray challenged still grinning.

         "You do not look any thing like him for one."

         "I coulda had surgery." Ray taunted.

         "You're slightly shorter than he is."

         "Some people shrink with age, it's a common fact."

         "Your finger prints and dental records are not those of Ray Vecchio," Fraser insisted, used to their familiar game.

         "They are in my file," Ray continued.

         "Your behavior is totally different from Ray Vecchio's."

         "It's the job, stress changes a person sometimes," Ray concluded and Fraser sighed in defeat.

        They could go on with this forever but the detective was in rare form tonight and winning would not come easy this time.

        Finally, Fraser said something that he knew his friend could not rebuke. "Ray Vecchio never understood me the way you do. He never had the window into my soul that you seem to view me with."

        Ray stared at him startled and for a moment Fraser saw tears well up in his partner's eyes and he mirrored them in his own gaze. Both men quickly blinked them away and composed themselves.

         "Then I'm glad I'm not Ray Vecchio," Ray finally admitted, when he could speak.

        Fraser smiled. "As am I," the Mountie offered. "Although, I do miss Ray, I am glad that I had the chance to know you as well."

        Ray grinned, as his expression grew wistful. "Same here, Barry," Ray returned, softly. "I still think you should go fer it, though, with Frannie. Life's too short not to try for somethin' you want, Fraser."

        Fraser regarded him thoughtfully, deciding not to comment on Ray's confusion of his name. Who was Barry? Curiosity was about to get the better of him and just when he would have asked a movement caught Ray's eye.

        "Hey, There's our suspect. Pitter patter buddy."

        Both men quickly exited the vehicle and went to apprehend their prey.

         "Hey Ray!" Francesca called out as he and Fraser entered the station the following day. They had just finished running down some leads in one of their cases. She hurried up to them and handed the detective a slip of paper with a name and number on it, while making eyes at her favorite Mountie in the process. "I called about that tailor you asked me to check on and it seems that the shop doesn't exist where he claimed to work."

         "Gee thanks, now why the fuck don't you mind your own business!" Ray snapped, snatching the paper from her hand. Everyone stared at him in and shock, especially his pretend sister and partner. "Mind yer own fuckin' business!"

         "Ray!" Fraser exclaimed as Francesca stared at him speechless, then fled with her hands over her face to hide her tears.

        Ray walked over to his desk as Fraser hurried after him.

        "Ray!"

         "Yah, Frase?" Ray replied as he dropped the note on his desk. He pulled off his leather jacket and draped it over the back of his chair.

         "Why did you say that to Francesca?" Fraser demanded trying to curb his shock and anger at his partner's reprehensible behavior.

        Ray stared at him confused. "Say what, buddy?" he asked curiously.

        Fraser stared at him reprovingly. "W...what you said." The Mountie was not willing to repeat the harsh words. "Why did you swear at her and behave so abominably?"

          Ray gazed at him for a long moment, before lowering his eyes to the note on his desk. What had he said to Francesca? He didn't remember saying anything more than thank you. Did he swear at her? He couldn't have done that, why would he? He never swore at women, especially not Betty she...he shook his head, Frannie, not Betty.

       Ray dropped into his chair as his head started to throb; unaware of Fraser's sharp appraisal that was quickly turning to concern. Fraser wouldn't lie to him, certainly not abut something like this, and the Mountie really looked angry.

         "I...I'll go apologize," Ray informed, quietly. He rose from the chair and walked off in search of the petite Italian woman. He found her in the break room, pouring herself a cup of coffee with shaky hands. "Frannie?" \

        Her back stiffened at the sound of his voice and she did not turn to face him.

        "Look, I'm...I'm sorry for whatever it was that I said that upset you."

         "Whatever you said!" she declared turning to glare furiously at him. "You can't even figure out what part I might get offended at?"

        Ray bit his lip and tried to remember what he had said, but he was drawing a blank. "I...yah, I...I mean of course," he lied. "I...I'm sorry, really. I don't know why I said it. You can pop me if ya want."

        Francesca seemed to consider the offer, walking up to him and raising her hand.

        Ray prepared himself for the blow, but instead she just shoved at his chest and sniffed.

         "Don't ever do it again," she warned the stalked off.

        Ray breathed a sigh of relief. He probably deserved physical abuse, much worse than what she offered at that point. "I'll try not to," he whispered to himself, trying to quell the unreasonable fear rising within him. What was going on?

         Storm and Mrs. Pierce did not see Ray at all the next few weeks; either he was leaving early or coming home long after they had retired for the evening. He had left the empty tin by the door with a note of thanks to both of them, but had not attempted to accept Mrs. Pierce's offer for dinner. Storm was convinced she had scared him away and was depressed over her actions. She would sit by her bedroom window for hours hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he pulled into the parking lot. She couldn't eat or sleep; all her thoughts were of Ray.  She had actually gathered the courage to go to his apartment twice, but he either wasn't answering the door or was not yet home. Every now and then she would hear a gentle thumping above her and her Aunt informed her it was probably the detective dancing again, so Storm would spend that time envisioning she was the one Ray was dancing with.

         "Storm?" her aunt inquired as she entered her niece's room where the taller woman was laying on her bed, daydreaming. She felt foolish, being thirty-three years old and so caught up in a crush, but she couldn't seem to help herself. "Well you go and fetch the mail for me dear?"

         "Sure, Auntie," she agreed, with a sigh.

        Rising from her bed she left the apartment and wandered down the hall toward the entrance of the building, where the mail boxes were located. She was just pulling her mail out when a cool breeze drifted toward her and she turned to see the object of her desire enter the building.

         "Hey," he greeted as he pulled open his own mailbox and grabbed out the two letters inside.

         "H...hi," she finally managed after watching him close it and start away.  "D...Detective?" He stopped and turned back to her. "H...how are you doing?"

         "Fine," he replied. "You?"

         "I...I'm okay," she stammered. "I like spending time with my Aunt."

         "Glad to hear it," Ray acknowledged and headed toward the stairs.

         "Have I done something to offend you?" Storm called after him desperately, slamming her Aunt's mailbox closed and hurrying after him.

         "No," Ray denied quietly, as he reached for the door that led to the stairwell.

         "Auntie has been waiting for you to set a time to come for dinner," Sse blurted, shuffling her feet nervously as she lowered her eyes. "I...Can I tell her when you and you partner might be available? She really is set on it."

         "I'll ask Fraser," Ray promised. "I'll call her later, okay?"

        Storm nodded and watched him disappear up the stairs. She sighed and was headed back toward their apartment when she heard a loud thud on the stairwell. The mail fluttered from her hand as she ran back to the door where Ray had disappeared. She hurried up the stairs.

          She found him slumped on the bottom of the third landing, from the position of his body he looked like he may have fallen from the stairs or the higher platform above. She kneeled beside him and checked for a pulse, relieved to find one. She gently slapped his cheeks to try and awaken him, but he was not moving and she became concerned. She then quickly started to search for the cell phone she knew he carried and shaking fingers she dialed 911 and gave them the address, then tossed the phone aside, continuing to try and revive him.

         "Please don't die," she pleaded as her free hand wiped his hair from his brow. She knew that the fall could have seriously damaged him, depending on how high up the stairs he had made it before he came crashing down.  She gently cushioned his head with her legs. "Not now that I've found you, please be okay."

         At the hospital they would not let Storm or Mrs. Pierce see Ray and, because they were not family, they were given no information on his condition. Storm paced the hospital waiting room, as they waited for Fraser to appear; her aunt had called the Mountie as soon the ambulance left with Ray then drove her niece to the hospital. Fraser had been on an errand when she originally called, but luckily, there had been someone at the Canadian consulate to give the Mountie her message.

          Storm continued to pace thinking of Ray and how mush she loved him. She had known it from the moment she had set eyes on him and he had so tenderly carried her to her Aunt's apartment. She would be forever grateful that the chair she had been standing on had given beneath her and allowed her to injure her ankle. For, had she not fallen Ray would never have come to her rescue. Storm was a practical woman, she did not believe in love at first sight or infatuation, feeling herself above such trivial romanticism, but after meeting the Detective all prior notions of what could and could not happen in the wheels of fate flew out the window.

         Her mind came back to the present as a handsome woman with a friendly smile and luminous green eyes walked up to them, a long white medical coat draped over the simple floral dress she wore. She was perhaps three to four inches shorter than Storm, but she had long legs and an impressive figure from what could be seen.

         "Mrs. Pierce?" she greeted. Storm and her aunt stepped forward to extend their hand to the doctor. "I'm Dr. Brook, Ray's personal physician."

         "H...how is he?" Storm asked concerned. "They wouldn't tell us anything."

         "That's standard policy," Sehra informed, regretfully. "But, I have spoken to Ray and he explained who you both were. He's doing fine and he says he is sorry, if he scared either of you by his collapse."

         "What happened?" Mrs. Pierce asked. "Is he ill?"

         "Why don't I let him explain," Sehra suggested, warmly. "I'll bring you in to see him if you like."

         "You go on, dear," Mrs. Pierce encouraged her niece. "I'll stay here and watch for Constable Fraser."

        Storm nodded and followed Dr. Brook to Ray's room. The detective appeared to be resting comfortably, and was sitting up in the stark white bed flipping through a magazine. An IV was strapped to his arm.

        Ray glanced up as they entered and he offered Storm an embarrassed smile. "Hey," he greeted tossing the magazine aside as Sehra left them alone and closed the door.

          "H...how do you feel?" Storm asked, shyly, unable to hide her worry.

          "I'm okay," he assured her and offered a weak smile. "Thanks to you."

        She blushed and lowered his eyes."Did they say what was wrong?"

        Ray shrugged."Exhaustion," he supplied, readily. "And a little dehydration." He indicated the IV fluid. "Fraser will probably kill me when he gets here fer not takin' better care of myself."

        Storm tried to smile, but she was simply too worried and nervous for it to fully form.

        "Thanks fer what you did."

          "I'm just glad you're all right," she said, quietly.

        Ray crooked her finger and indicated she move closer, which she did readily. He took her hand and pressed the back of her fingers to his lips. "Guess now we're even, hey?" he teased.

        Storm blushed as a knock sounded at his door.

        Ray released her hand and called for the person to enter, glad to see his partner standing in the doorway. He grinned. "Hey, buddy.What brings ya here?"

        Fraser smirked, as he worked to keep his expression firm. "My partner apparently can't stay out of trouble."

          "You know me, Frase," Ray laughed.

        The Mountie entered the room and inclined his head to Storm, removing his Stetson politely."Hello, Miss. Blackfeather," he greeted. "Thank you for coming to Ray's aid so quickly."

        Storm nodded and started to move away from Ray reluctantly. "I'll let you two visit," she offered and moved toward the door.

           Both men thanked her and she left. She leaned against the door wistfully as it closed behind her. Flexing the fingers of her right hand, she remembering the feel of Ray's brief touches and sighed. His hands had been unusually cool and his strong hands seemed weak in her grip. She remembered how those hands had carried her when she had hurt her ankle that first day. How they had offered her aunt tissues to dry her tears, how he used his hands to express his feelings, anger, joy, and disbelief. She could fall in love with just Ray's hand's easily, but there were so many other endearing qualities as well.

        She considered Ray's feline grace in the very way he moved, like a nimble panther stalking casually across his terrain. He gave the appearance of nonchalance, and yet there was a subtle danger lying just beneath his calm exterior. His crooked smile could express a multitude of feeling. Sarcasm, wit, pleasure, charm, warning and challenge were all visible in his appetizingly full lips. His flashing eyes, the color of heated, blue steel, sparkled with an intensity that rivaled the brightest stars in the sky.

        Ray wore his emotions outward and some would consider him weak for such a display, but Storm thought it just added to his masculinity. Ray was not afraid to feel or to show his feelings and that made him twice the man of any others around him. He was fueled by a deliberate passion that seemed to have no stable grounding, only the need to fly free in whatever situation or manner it deemed necessary. He was impulsive and bold with an uncertainty that equalized his witty confidence, making him brave but not foolish.

          However, Storm sensed Ray did not seem to reciprocate her feelings and she knew she might have to deal with the fact that she would have to try and forget him and move on. She had already convinced her aunt to allow her to stay awhile longer, giving herself time to be sure that there would never be anything between her and the Detective.

          "Ray, you have to take it easy," Sehra Brook warned, after Fraser left and she was alone again with her patient. "You can't keep up this pace."

          "I feel fine, Doc," Ray insisted.

         Sehra shook her head. "You're not fine," she denied. "Ray, we have to run more tests, I believe that the tumor may be growing again."

        Ray stared at her. "I thought the radiation..." he began.

          "Sometimes it kills off the remaining cells but, as I told you, it may not," Sehra explained. "We have to run more tests and..."

          "I don't want anymore tests done damnit!" Ray exclaimed, then forced himself to calm down. "I...I'm sorry. I...I just...I guess I was starting to get my hopes up that..."

          "Of course you were," she confirmed, gently. "That's normal. But, I did tell you the surgery and radiation was not a cure, it may only give you time."

        Ray nodded. "I...I know," he sighed. "I...I've just felt so good the last few weeks I thought..." he shook his head. "So what do I have to do now?"

          "We'll run another CT scan and see what we can find," she replied. "Are you going to tell anyone if the tumor has returned?"

        Ray shook his head. "I haven't decided yet. First things first I guess."

        Sehra inclined her head and went to schedule his tests.

          Vecchio was back. What the hell should he do now? Ray Kowalski slumped against the chair outside the hospital room and waited for Fraser to reappear. This was great, just great. Like he didn't have enough to deal with before, now he was about to loose his best friend and partner. He dropped his head into his hands and ran his fingers through the familiar thick blond spikes. His hair had grown back awhile ago to its usual, disorganized state. He grimaced as he thought of Vecchio. Why couldn't the Italian have waited just a little while longer to return? Why did Fraser have to see him at that hotel and blow his cover?

          Ray sighed and sat up, leaning his head against the wall behind him. Storm Blackfeather had returned home a few weeks earlier. Ray had tried to be accommodating, but he could not in good conscience develop a relationship with her, despite how she felt about him. Fraser had argued with him, but Ray could only pretend that he simply didn't feel that way about the native woman, denying himself any of what she had to offer.

         Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe it would be better this way, Fraser would have Vecchio back and then Kowalski could just fade into the background, never having to explain-Ray shook his head. He couldn't do that to Fraser. He owed him the truth; he just hadn't gathered the nerve to tell the Mountie about his condition. He closed his eyes and replayed his conversation with Sehra Brook just a couple of short months before.

          "So the Cancer is back?" he confirmed and she nodded, sadly. Ray wet his lips and pulled his hand from hers, rising to walk across the soft carpet of her office to stare out at the city below. "Will, will I be a vegetable?"

        Sehra stood and went to stand behind him, allowing him the space he needed and not giving into her instincts to pull him into her embrace and protect him. "No, I don't think so," she denied. "Most times you'll experience good days and bad days, much like the symptoms you have been going through, vomiting, headaches, and fatigue. Sometimes, you'll feel perfectly fine and healthy." She bit her lip and forced herself to continue. "Some people, toward the end experience blindness, confusion and delusions. Some go into a coma for a short while and some go in their sleep."

         "So...so it won't hurt?" Ray asked, then blushed. "Not that I'm afraid of pain. Hell, workin' with Fraser I've had my share I just..."

        Sehra broke her promise not to touch him and settled firm hands on his shoulders. She rubbed them, soothingly. Most people were afraid of a painful death; Ray had nothing to be ashamed of.

         "I don't think it will, Ray," she said. "I can only assume it's peaceful from those I have seen and stories related to me."

        Ray nodded. "What about another surgery?" he suggested, grasping at straws. "More radiation treatments?"

          "I don't honestly think it will help, Ray," she stated, regretfully. "But, you can get a second opinion."

        Ray shook his head. He'd already gone to a crowd of doctors and specialist, at her insistence when he was first diagnosed, to assure her diagnosis was the correct one. Ray was ready to trust her on this; she wouldn't lie to him at this stage in the game.

          "So...how long?" he asked, defeated.

          "Judging by the rate of growth found on your original tumor, possibly three to four months, maybe a little longer," she confirmed and watched him release a shaky breath as his fingers gripped the windowsill beneath him.

          "Oh God!" he murmured, painfully. "Sweet Jesus!" That was hardly any time at all. How would he ever get everything done in such a short about of time?

        Ray started to hyperventilate and Sehra made him sit down and breath into a small paper bag she had just for such an occasion. It was ironic how many people tended to forget to breathe, when they discovered they were dying.

          "I...I'm okay," he finally whispered and pushed the bag away. "I...I just gotta...I gotta think I...."

          "It's okay, Ray," she assured kneeling before him. "Do whatever you feel like doing, let it out, baby."

        Ray shook his head defiantly, not wanting to give into the chaos that he was suddenly overwhelmed with. However, he was not strong enough to stop the betrayal of angry tears from sliding down his pale cheeks. Sehra wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her, allowing him to cry against her as he returned her embrace, desperately.

          "I...I have to go," he murmured suddenly, pushing her away and standing up.

          "Ray, let me call Fraser," she suggested, not wanting him to be alone at this time.

          "NO!" he refused, furiously. "I...I don't need him. I'm...I'll be okay. I...I just have to get out of here. I can't breath I can't..." He shook his head desperately and bolted from the room as Sehra stared after him helplessly.

          Ray had left the GTO parked at the clinic and walked for hours around Chicago, not going anywhere in particular, but needing to just keep moving. When he finally returned to get his car, it dark and he slowly drove home, entered his apartment and cried himself to sleep.
 
 

          Now, here he sat, waiting for yet another boom to fall, another heart wrenching change to happen. Fraser would be leaving him he understood that. Vecchio was back and they no longer needed Ray to keep up the pretense of being another cop. Ray wound be out of a job, since he would not bother to be reassigned in the short time he had left. He would miss the life that he had come to cherish; the life that belonged to another man. He glanced up as Fraser finally exited the room.

          "So?" Ray asked nervously after Fraser informed him about Muldoon. "We still partners?"

          "If you'll have me?" Fraser requested quietly and Ray felt his heart leap in his chest.

        For the second time, he was given another chance, additional time to get things right and he couldn't even find the words he needed to say how much he wanted to have Fraser as his partner. Instead, he inclined his head and the pair was off on yet another adventure.
 
 

         "Would you care for some more stew, Ray?" Fraser offered as the cold North wind howled around their tiny hand built shelter.

        Ray shook his head, indicating his still half-full plate. "I'm good, buddy," he assured and offered the remainder of his stew to Diefenbaker who was waiting next to him for the treat. "Couldn't eat another bite."

         "Was the meal not satisfactory, Ray?" Fraser inquired, anxiously. "I know my cooking is not the greatest but..." He had been worried that his friend had not been eating enough lately and loosing weight, something Ray could not afford to do in this desolate wilderness.

         "Yer cookin's fine, Frase," Ray quickly assured. "I'm just not real hungry."

        Fraser watched his partner settle against his backpack and bedroll, his ever-observant eyes noting the slightest difference in his friends' color or appearance. Ray had confided in him about his life-threatening tumor just shortly before they decided to go on their quest.

        Fraser of course had argued that Ray should be back in Chicago, where the doctors could help him, but the detective was insistent. He had his fill of doctors, tests, hospitals and the like. He wanted to go on an adventure with Fraser. He wanted to spend whatever time he had left with the Mountie and Fraser was both flattered and concerned for Ray's well being.

         At first, Fraser had been angry with Ray for waiting so long to tell him, angrier still when he found out that the Detective had still not told his parents before they had left to chase Muldoon. He was being irresponsible. How could he not tell those who cared for him that he was dying? Ray was stubborn, he would do it his way and nothing Fraser said or did would change that.

         Fraser tried not to comment on Ray's lack of appetite and his easy fatigue, despite his friend's bravado to keep going. Ray was always in good spirits, whether it was natural or he was putting up a front for Fraser's benefit the Mountie couldn't be sure. Now and then, Ray would say something totally out of the blue that had no relation to what they might have been talking about. Quite often, he did not seem to be aware he had said anything out of the ordinary and continued the conversation as though there had never been a break from topic.

        Sometimes, Ray would see things that were not there; due either to the snow blindness or the tumor itself and sometimes Ray would carry on complete conversations with himself as though Fraser was not even present. More than once, Ray called Fraser Barry or Tom and the Mountie pretended not to hear the difference or ask who these people might be.

         Fraser rarely saw Ray physically ill, other than the frequent headaches that he endured and Fraser would offer to rub and help relieve the soreness in his neck and shoulders. Fraser was loosing his best friend and the idea was playing havoc with his emotions. He promised he would not show his distress in front of his partner, but whenever Ray was asleep, Fraser often wandered off to quietly cry or deal with his barely contained anger. It wasn't fair, Ray was so young, so vibrant, he should not have to die this way.

         "Frase?" Ray asked quietly, bringing the Mountie back to the present. He forced a smile to his lips and glanced over at his friend. "You okay? You looked kind of far away for a minute there."

         "Just thinking about how long it should take us to get to Inuvick, Ray," he lied easily, as he washed out their dishes with a cloth, using the clean snow around them. "We should be there late tomorrow."

        Ray smiled. "Great, I need a shower," he decided and Fraser smiled for real this time.

         "You could just remove your clothes and roll in the snow, Ray," Fraser suggested and the look the blond tossed him pretty much conveyed what he thought of that particular activity.

         "I am not a Penguin, seal or any other type of...what was that bird you told me about?"

         "Puffin?"

         "Yah, or one of those," Ray replied. "Besides, I think it's time to head home, buddy."

         "My Father's cabin is a good week away, Ray," Fraser explained. "But I suppose we could..."

         "No no," Ray reiterated. "I mean my home, Ben. Chicago."

        Fraser stared at him, unwilling to see the meaning in the steel blue eyes that gazed back at him. Ray had used his first name, perhaps a slip of the tongue or something more, either reason suddenly made Fraser uncomfortable.

         "You aren't enjoying your time here?" he deliberately misunderstood and Ray shook his head.

         "No, I...It's been great, Fraser," he assured. "I've had fun, spendin' time with you and Dief, lookin' fer that hand. But, I got things I have to take care of." He glanced meaningfully at his partner, willing him to understand so he wouldn't have to say it aloud. "It's time to go home, buddy."

         "Oh, Ray," Fraser whispered. "I...." It was too soon, Fraser's mind screamed, and then he forced himself to calm down. "Certainly Ray. I believe we can catch a plane in Inuvick."

         "Good, dat's good, Ben," Ray sighed and settled back against his bedroll again, unaware of his friend's thoughtful appraisal.

         "That was an enjoyable evening, was it not, Ray?" Fraser asked as they entered Ray's apartment and removed their coats and shook the snow from their hats and hair.

        Diefenbaker shook his fur and quickly went to settle beside the sofa.

        Ray had seemed tired all evening, but he was very cheerful as they attended the precinct's Christmas party. They had arrived back from Canada just two weeks before and here it was already Christmas Eve and Ray seemed in great spirits.

          Ray had finally confided in his parents about his illness and neither of them took the news well. His father became furious, both at Ray for not telling them sooner and over the idea of what was happening to his son. Barbara Kowalski was quiet for a long time, before she finally broke down and sobbed openly, professing her undying love for her son as though he were already gone.

        Ray took it in stride and declined both his parents' offer that they should move in to watch him. He had Frase and he was a big boy, now. He would be fine.

         "The best, Benton, buddy," Ray agreed as he set their selection of gifts under the small tabletop tree in the corner. "Frannie was lookin' hot."

         "She did look enchanting," Fraser agreed, ignoring his friend's wink as he hung up their coats in the closet.

        Ray dropped down on the sofa and ruffled the wolf's fur affectionately. "Com'ere Fraser, I wanna talk to you."

        Fraser moved to settle beside him, glad that he had chosen to wear his casuals to the party and thus would be more comfortable the remainder of the evening.

        "You goin' back to Canada?"

         "Eventually, yes," Fraser confirmed, wondering where that question had come from. "It is my home."

         "You gonna try to look fer the hand of Franklin again?" Ray teased and Fraser smiled.

         "Perhaps when you are feeling better we can both return to..." he began.

           Ray cut him off. "I won't be going back with you, Frase," he informed, gently. "You already know dat don't you?"

        Fraser hesitated then lowered his eyes and nodded sadly. "Yes, Ray," he returned, quietly. "I understand that."

         "I do feel better than I have in awhile, though," Ray offered. "Dat's something right?"

        Fraser nodded.

        "I have some things I want ya to do fer me."

         "Of course, Ray," Fraser agreed readily. He would do anything for his friend.

         "Well, I know ya ain't into jewelry and stuff, other than yer Dad's watch," Ray began and Fraser watched his partner remove the silver bracelet from his wrist and gently snap it around Fraser's. "I want you to wear this, kinda to remember me by. It always brought me luck and I'd like you to have it."

         "I...Ray I..." Fraser was speechless as he gently fingered the charm with trembling fingers. "I...I don't know what to say. I don't need this to remember you. You're my best friend, I shall always remember you."

         "Dat's great, Fraser," Ray sighed, resting his head on his palm as he propped his elbow on the back of the sofa. "Glad you think so. So will ya wear it, then?"

         "O...of course, Ray," Fraser managed, blinking back his tears.

         "Good," Ray decided, pleased. "The udder thing is, I want you to be the one to tell Stella and my folks. I know it will be hard, but I'd rather they hear it from you when da time comes."

        Fraser could only nod. Words refused to form through the large lump that was suddenly constricting his throat.

        "Greatness. Two more things, then I'll be done. There are four envelopes on my dresser in the bedroom, one fer my folks, one fer Frannie, one fer Stella and one fer you, but I don't want anyone to open them until New Year's day, okay? Make sure they understand that, Fraser.  Don't read them until then, okay?"

        Fraser nodded, slowly.

        Ray smiled, sadly. "Okay, this one is real important, Ben."

        There he was, using his first name again and Fraser automaticlaly tensed. "Ray don't..." he began, unable to help the fear rising inside him as he realized where this was going.

        Ray gently placed his hand over the Mountie's and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Don't interrupt, buddy," he warned softly and Fraser could see the moisture mirrored in the blonde's eyes. "When you wake up tomorrow, I want you to take Dief for a nice long walk around the park, maybe fer an hour or more."

         "Ray, why...?"

         "When you come back," Ray continued as though Fraser had not spoken. "I want you to call Vecchio and ask him ta come over here, then sit on the sofa until he gets here, okay?"

        Fraser shook his head as he realized why Ray was telling him all this. "Ray please...I...I can't! Let me..."

         "Fraser, dis is important, okay?" Ray insisted, firmly. "I want someone here with you, okay?"

         "It's too soon, Ray!" Fraser refused. "Please, we...we can stay up and talk we...we can play a game we can...I can stay with you and...please don't do this to me, Ray."

         "Sssh, Ben," Ray soothed the anxious Mountie. "It needs to be dis way. I thought a lot about it and it's how I want it."

         "No!" Fraser bolted to his feet and angrily wiped the tears away from his eyes. "Why should you be so brave? Why do you want to die alone?"

         "I'm not alone, Fraser," Ray promised, remaining seated. "I've never been alone, not since I met you. Com'ahn Frase, let me off the hook on dis one okay? Do it my way, please?"

        "Ray you don't know what you are asking...I can't..."

        "I  know exactly what I'm asking and I know it'ill be hard, but ya have to promise me, Ben," Ray pressed. " I don't want to die alone, I don't want ta die at all, but dis is the way it has to be. Do as I ask, okay? Take Dief fer a walk, and then call Vecchio."

        Fraser slumped down in the opposing chair. "I...I...all right, Ray." he finally agreed. His promise sounded hollow and angry, but it was enough for Ray, who nodded and slowly stood up.

         "Good," he moved to the kitchen and pulled out some sodas, and then went about preparing popcorn in the microwave. "We'll watch It's a Wonderful Life on the T.V., eat some popcorn, maybe you'll sing some Christmas carols for me, then we'll both go to bed."

        Fraser nodded reluctantly.

         So, that was what they did. They sat and enjoyed each other's company as they watched the movie and ate popcorn. Fraser convinced Ray to stay and watch A Christmas Carol with him, so the detective agreed.

        Afterwards, when Ray started tidying up, Fraser suggested now they should sing the songs, but Ray said it was getting late. He knew the Mountie was trying to prolong their time together and Ray couldn't really blame him, but he was getting more and more tired and it was getting harder for him to think straight.

         "Time fer bed, Benton, buddy," he insisted. "Pitter Patter or Santa won't come."

         "It's still early, Ray," Fraser protested. "Why don't we play a game?"

         "I can't, Fraser," Ray refused, gently. "I'm sorry, but it's time to go to bed."

        Fraser moved with lightening speed across the living room and caught Ray's arm just outside the bedroom. "Please, Ray," he pleaded. "Let me stay with you. I won't speak or do anything to disturb you, but please let me..."

         "Fraser, don't do dis," Ray sighed, exasperated. "I can't think straight as it is and I don't have the energy ta fight. You promised to do it my way. You're a Mountie, how can ya break yer promise?"

         "I don't care about the damn promise!" Fraser exclaimed, desperately.  "Ray...I..."

         "Fraser," Ray said softly as he pried the Mountie's fingers from his arm. " Ben, I love you. It will be okay, I promise."

        Fraser started shaking and Ray was forced to pull him into his embrace. "Don't leave me, Ray!" Fraser was half- hysterical now, uncaring if his disciplined composure was shot or if he was acting like a fool. "I love you, too. Please don't leave me."

        Ray blinked back his own tears. "I'm not leaving ya," he vowed and placed his hand over Fraser's rapidly beating heart. "I'll always be here, right here with you."

        Fraser sniffed and allowed Ray to pull away from him.

        "Say good night, Benton buddy."

         "G...good night Ray, my friend," Fraser finally managed.

        They were the hardest words the Canadian ever had to voice. He stepped aside reluctantly, so Ray could enter the bedroom and close the door.

         Fraser watched Diefenbaker paw at the door and whine in protest and Fraser felt like doing the same thing himself. He finally led the wolf away and went to settle back on the sofa. He knew he would not sleep this night, nor would his wolf, so he made himself as comfortable as possible and waited for dawn to come. In his mind, he replayed all the adventures he and Ray Kowalski had shared, the good times and the bad times they had come through.
 

        Ray didn't bother to remove his clothes, not even his boots. Some line from a movie haunted him about dying with your boots on and he had always wondered what that meant. He reached up in his window and pulled down the dream catcher that Fraser had given him. He hung it directly on the headboard of his bed so he could look up and see it.

        He pulled open the drawer to his night table and retrieved the small, jewelry box that was buried far in the back. His head was pounding and his hands were shaking as he slipped his wedding band onto his left ring finger. There, he thought, that was better. He felt a little more complete now.

        Ray fought the urge to call Fraser in, as the fear of what he was facing started to creep up on him. He wished he could let the Mountie come and sit beside him for the time he had left, but that wasn't fair to Fraser. No one should have to see their friend and partner die, not even the Great Benton Fraser. Ray would suffer alone and hopefully he wouldn't suffer long. He had known tonight would be his last, but he didn't know why he knew. The mind was an amazing thing at times,

        Funny, how hard it was to close your eyes and sleep when you knew you would not be waking up again. Ray thought about all the people he would miss and all the things he would never again see. He had tried to make his last few months worthwhile and Fraser had helped a lot with that. Ray had enjoyed his time in Canada, but had really missed being in Chicago. He'd missed his folks and Stella, going to sporting events or just a movie. Hot take out and furious drivers. He smiled, it was amazing what you could take for granted.

        Ray's eyes finally started to drift closed, exhaustion creeping in. He thought he was ready, but he really wasn't and he fought to keep them open. He still didn't know if it would hurt to die and that fear kept him awake. Was there really a Heaven? Would he be allowed to go there or would some of his past deeds cause him to go to the other place instead? What if there was nothing after you died, just emptiness or a fade from existence? That idea scared Ray more than a possibility of hell. Having nothing, being nothing, living a life so full and then leaving with nothing.

        The struggle to remain coherent pulled at him and eventually he had to release some of his will to fight. He could no longer think straight but he wasn't really in great pain, just an intense discomfort. That could be due to either his condition or his fear, he didn't know which. The shadows in the room started to play tricks on his vision and a couple of times he thought he saw an older man, in a Mountie uniform, standing in the corner watching him. He knew it wasn't Fraser because his door hadn't opened, so he figured it was just wishful thinking. A soft, masculine voice whispered to him.

        "It's okay, son. Let go."

        Ray's final thought was of Fraser and how much he would miss him.
 

         When the soft glow of morning began to light the apartment, Fraser rose and rinsed the tear tracks from his tired face over the kitchen sink. He glanced down at Diefenbaker then at the door to Ray's bedroom. The urge to open the door was painfully strong, but he knew he would fall apart if he did.

        Diefenbaker had started baying mornfully around two O'clock that morning, less than an hour after Ray had gone into his room. Fraser had known then, why Diefenbaker was crying and his tears mixed with the wolf's for the remainder of the night.

        Ray had been correct, Fraser needed someone with him right now. Blinking away a fresh gathering of tears he retrieved his coat and Stetson and opened the front door to lead the pitiful wolf from the apartment.

         He did not take Diefenbaker to the park. Instead, he walked to the Vecchio's, which was almost the same distance had he went to the park for an hour. He settled on the steps and waited, not willing to wake up anyone in the house. Diefenbaker paced for awhile back and forth, then settled beside him sadly.

         When Ray Vecchio opened his front door to let the spirit of Christmas Day in, as was their tradition, he found the Mountie and wolf asleep against the porch railing. In his heart he knew why they were there and he returned inside to dress.
 
 

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