Three part series, based on a challenge by Mary Ann, bless her heart, who never lets me give up, and I hope everyone will accept and enjoy it in the spirit it was written. I dedicate it to Mary Ann and Ruthie, both inspirations to all us Fan Fic Writers, for continuing to submit such wonderful and enthralling stories. PG/AU/HC. I welcome any and all feedback. PLEASE!!!
 

By Amethyst
 

         Ray Kowalski, undercover as Ray Vecchio, felled his assailant after a minimal struggle then cuffed the man to the leg of a Dumpster and patted his cheek, affectionately. "Don't you go anywhere now," he warned the semi-conscious man, before hurrying down the alley to help his partner and friend Constable Benton Fraser.

         The Mountie had preceded him toward the back lot of the video store and had tried to take down the large tree sized man on his own. It wasn't working very well.  The man was huge, at least six five and over three hundred pounds. Ray had been ready to jump in and help, when a second man had attacked him from behind, delaying the Detective's aid.

         After quickly dispatching his suspect, Ray now turned his attention toward his partner. The Mountie was in danger of being crushed to death by a man Ray could only dub Goliath. Kowalski heard Fraser croak that the giant was under arrest and demanded he cease and desist, but the man ignored him and continued to squeeze the Canadian painfully in his bear like grip.

         Ray couldn't use his gun to threaten the man, without the risk of accidentally shooting Fraser.  Instead, he holstered his weapon and used the hood of a parked car to launch himself onto the giant's back. The sanity of his action seemed questionable when the man stepped back and slammed him into an adjacent wall, while retaining his hold on Fraser. The blow knocked the Detective's breath from his body, but it took two more collisions with the wall before Ray finally released his hold and dropped to the hard ground below.

         Fraser, trying every possible defensive maneuver he could think of, watched helplessly as his friend slid down the wall. The Mountie's feet were no longer touching the ground and the hands that held him were immobile and seemed imperious to pain. His head started to swim and his eyes lost their focus as he fought for much needed oxygen. Fraser was sure he could hear the breaking of his own bones from the vice-like grip the brute had on him.

         Ray, ignoring the painful throbbing of his body, pounced again. He wrapped his arms around the man's huge neck, trying for a choke hold, but he may as well have been trying to crush concrete. In a desperate attempt to get his partner free, and remembering how much it had hurt when a suspect had done a similar deed to him, Ray sank his teeth into the man's ear.

         Goliath roared in startled agony and dropped the semi-conscious Mountie. He reached behind with enormous hands and pulled the slim detective over him. Fraser, attempting to regain his lost oxygen, watched horrified as his partner bounced violently against the hood of the parked car.

         Ray felt the impact all the way through to his teeth and he heard a loud pop as the windshield gave beneath him. He narrowly missed the hulking hands that plunged toward him again, as he rolled across the hood of the vehicle. He landed painfully on his left knee beside the tire on the passenger side.

         Before Ray could catch his breath, however and attempt to rise again, the giant loomed over him and wrapped a meaty fist around the detective's jacket collar. Pain shot through Ray's injured leg as he was yanked upward. He ignored the additional agony and shoved his good knee into the man's groin. Ray's eyes widened fearfully, when that only seemed to increase Goliath's rage. The man's massive paw started squeezing Ray's throat and cutting of his air supply.

        Fighting back the darkness that threatened to claim him, Ray managed to glance at Fraser, who was now crawling to his feet behind the giant. Their eyes met in silent communication. Seconds later, Ray slammed his forehead against Goliath's and they were both knocked sideways by Fraser.

        Masking his own assault with Ray's surprise attack, the Mountie put everything he had into the tackle. The force of his dive drove the giant against the wall and allowed Ray to escape his assailant's grip.

        The detective rolled to his feet beside his partner and pulled his gun, finally achieving a clean field of fire.  He was done fighting with this bastard, it was time to get serious. "On yer knees!" he croaked, desperately trying to hide the pain he was in and the dizziness he was currently feeling.  "I ain't playin', I'll shoot ya dead before we go fer round two."

         The man simply stared at him for a long moment, before slowly dropping to one knee.

        Ray glared at him with a healthy mistrust that had served him well as a cop. The thin blonde, unaware that his nose had started to bleed, ordered the man to lay down all the way.

        Fraser quickly offered his partner a handkerchief as the sounds of sirens echoed a short distance away. Suddenly, Fraser heard the unmistakable click of a rifle bolt closing and immediately turned back to warn his partner.

        Goliath launched himself at the detective, just as Ray spun around and fired toward the rooftop. Two shots rung out. Perhaps due to his dizziness or lack of glasses, Kowalski missed his target, but Goliath did not. The giant's sudden charge threw Ray violently against the solid, concrete wall behind them. 

         Fraser moved quickly towards his partner, as the Duck Boys arrived. The Mountie managed to catch hold of Ray as he slowly slid down the wall a second time. Ray's weapon slipped from his fingers and dropped to the ground. Two uniformed police officers had seized the rooftop assailant from above.

         "F…Frase?" Ray whimpered painfully, as the Mountie wrapped strong arms around his friend to form a barrier from the hard, cold ground. "Am I shot?"
 
        Fraser glanced over at Huey and Dewey , who had knelt to check on the giant slumped near by. Goliath's tackle had put him in the direct line of fire and he had taken the gunman's shot.

        "No, Ray," Fraser assured. "You aren't shot, you'll be okay."

        Ray tried to focus on him. "Where's my gun?" he asked and Fraser indicated it was still within reach. "Did...you..sure I ain't...shot? I...I don't feel so..." He stiffened and Fraser tried to comfort him. "Oh…Oh God, Frase…it hurts."

         "It will be all right, Ray," Fraser assured reaching behind Ray to cradle his friend's injured head. He was appalled when his hand returned covered in blood. Dear God! He schooled his features and tried to smile. "You'll be fine."

         "D...did we get 'em, buddy?" Ray gasped shivering, both from the adrenaline high and the pain he was feeling. "Did…did we beat da giant?"

         "We did indeed, Ray," Fraser assured; wishing the ambulance would hurry up and arrive. He used his handkerchief to apply pressure to the back of Ray's head, trying to stem the blood flowing from the detective's wounds. "Stay awake for me, Ray," he insisted, trying to inject some humor into his tine so ray would not sense his fear. "I've asked you to use your head on occasion, Ray-but I didn't mean as a battering ram. "

        Actually, the detective had taken a number of blows to the head and Fraser was worried about his friend slipping into a coma. He had remembered seeing Kowalski's head, strike once off the car and at least twice, possibly more off the wall, not to mention his courageous and foolhardy attempt at head-butting the giant.

          Ray's breathing was labored as he fought to keep his eyes open and not lose consciousness. He managed a rebellious grin for his partner. "The bigger dey are…" he began, then paused as he struggled to remember the rest of the phrase. "The harder I fall."

        Fraser's lips twitched at his friend's joke and he held Ray tighter. Where the hell was that ambulance?

        Ray tried to sit up, but just ended up shivering and cradled closer into Fraser's arms. "Aaahhhh…I'm cold Fraser…ya ship me to…Canada when I wasn't lookin?"

        "No, Ray," Fraser returned, "we are still in Chicago."

       Ray groaned. "I think I'm…d...dyin'."

        Fraser knew keeping up the pressure to Ray's head was imperative, but he wished he could release his friend long enough to shrug out of his tunic and use it to cover his partner. "No, Ray," he refused to think it was that serious. He simply couldn't lose Ray now; not after all they had been through. "You'll be fine."

        Ray managed another smile. "You…you're a mess, buddy," he teased .

        Fraser fought back his tears of desperation and returned the smile, tolerantly. He imagined he was quite the sight. He had lost his hat, at some point, and his usually impeccably neat uniform was now badly wrinkled from his struggle with the giant. He was also quite dirty from laying on the filthy parking lot. Ray was practically covered in glass, blood, and the dust of the concrete buildings he had been bounced against.

         "You aren't looking so orderly yourself, Ray, my friend, " Fraser returned, kindly.

         Ray made a sound that was between a sigh and a giggle. "I wanna be a Mountie when...when I grow up."

        Fraser grinned.

        Ray's gaze locked with his. "Ya still f…find me attractive, Frase?" he asked.

         Fraser nodded as his eyes left Ray's for a moment to observe the arrival of the ambulance. "Of course, Ray," he assured, returning his gaze to his friend's again. He wished he could take away the pain he saw in their blue-green depths.

         "My head…split…hurts…" Ray whispered, then he seemed to forget what he was saying for a minute. His fingers reached to the waistband of his belt and, with some difficulty, he pulled off the badge that he had clipped there. He shakily handed it to Fraser. "F...for Vecchio. His...his...I did okay, huh? I...I played him good...kept...kept him safe fer ya?"

        Fraser blinked back a fresh onslaught of tears as his free hand accepted the badge. Ray thought he was going to die and he was still more concerned about his assignment than himself. "You've been wonderful, Ray," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Better than Ray Vecchio himself and he will be honored to know you when he returns. I...I could not have asked for a better p...partner or a better friend than you, Ray." He held up the badge. "I'll hold on to this until you feel better. We have a lot more work to do yet."

        "V...Vecchio's lucky to have...to have...." Ray's eyes started to roll to the back of his head and Fraser coerced him back to reality for another few seconds. His eyes focused on the Mountie's face and he reached his finger up to caress Fraser's cheek, unaware of the streak of blood he left there. "I'm lucky to...be Vecchio...fer even awhile...worth it."

        Fraser cupped Ray's hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Very much so, Ray," he whispered. "For both of us."

        The paramedics arrived and hurried over with a stretcher.

        Ray started to panic when they placed him on the board and he reached out blindly for Fraser's hand. "Don't leave me, Benton!"

        Fraser blinked at the use of his first name and quickly rose to wrap his fingers around Ray's firmly, walking with him as the paramedics rolled his partner toward the ambulance.

        "I'm here, Ray," he assured, his voice wavering finally, expressing his concern. "I'm right here, I'll never leave."

          "P…partner's still, buddy?" Ray murmured, deliriously. "O…One two…duet…fer keeps?"

         "Yes, Ray," Fraser assured. "Partners forever."
 

         Ray awoke to find himself in a brightly-lit ICU room, accompanied by an intensely throbbing headache. The soreness all over his body left him almost breathless. It felt as though weights pressed heavily against his eyelids as he attempted to force them open a second time. Turning his aching head toward the saline drip that hung from the wire hook above him he followed the tube down to the IV needle in his left arm. He blinked a few times as it registered that he was in a hospital.

         He turned his head back the other way and noticed a tall, dark haired man, dressed in what looked to be some sort of red doorman's outfit, The man was staring out the small, window of the room. From his profile, Ray guessed the stranger was probably quite handsome and he briefly wondered who the man was, but exhaustion got the better of him and his eyes drifted closed again.

         Inhaling deeply, Ray realized that he felt much better. As his eyes opened again, they drifted toward the small beeping heart monitor at the side of the bed and followed the wired electrodes back to his chest. He absently pulled them off and tossed them aside. He hated hospitals and although he had no idea why he was here, they couldn't make him stay if he was set against it.

         The tall stranger had disappeared and Ray wondered if he had dreamed him. Turning his head back toward the glass partition that separated his room from the main corridor outside, he saw the stranger in red talking to a doctor. The man stood so perfectly erect and stationary, he reminded Ray of the Nutcracker Prince, especially in that fancy red costume. He looked away again; deciding that perhaps it was just someone who worked in the hospital as a volunteer, or some sort of circus act for the kids or something. Maybe the man had nothing better to do and had just stepped into Ray's room on a whim.

         He started to sit up, then gasped at the fire that ripped through his chest and left leg. Pulling back the covers, he found he was naked, but for the itchy white hospital sheets that covered him. Carefully lifting them, he inspected the large welting bruises across his left knee and upper thigh. The matching bruises that covered his torso disappeared under the white bandage that encased his ribcage. Damn, did he lose a fight with a moving truck or what?

         Sitting upright proved a greater task then he had expected, as nausea attacked his stomach. The pain in his head and body only seemed to increase. Raising his free hand to his bandaged head, he wondered what had happened to him and why he was here. He tried to get his eyes to focus properly. He finally managed to swing his legs over the side, carefully keeping his modesty covered with the sheets. Ray stared down at his bare feet, just a few inches above the dull tiled floor, but it may as well be fifty feet for all he could distinguish.

         Suddenly, the door to his room opened, and a young nurse rushed forward. She immediately settled him back into bed and scolded him for having moved from it. Ray allowed her to fuss over him, too weak to stop her. The room seemed suddenly chilly and he was actually relieved when she pulled the thin covers back over him.

         "Detective Vecchio," she admonished, hovering as she checked his pulse. "You have to lay still, now. I'll go fetch the doctor right away, don't you move."

         Ray watched her leave, wondering why she had addressed him incorrectly. Of course, he may have heard her wrong. There was a strange roaring in his ears and the room seemed to be spinning erratically around him. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes, hoping that would quell some of the nausea he was still experiencing, but the intense throbbing of his battered body forced them to reopen. He seemed trapped in a surreal space of discomfort and disconnection overlaid against a backdrop of pain.

          He thought about his folks and where they might be. They weren't with him in the room, but did they know he was here?  Stella's name was on his insurance card as next of kin, but they might have trouble reaching her if she was in class.

         "Detective Vecchio," the doctor greeted amiably, as he entered.

          Ray recognized him as the same young man he had seen speaking with the Nutcracker Prince and he stared at him in confusion. That was twice someone had called him by the wrong name, maybe it wasn't his roaring ears after all.

         "I think ya got the wrong room, Doc," he finally decided, before continuing. "My name's Kowalski, Ray Kowalski."

        The doctor frowned and checked the chart he carried. "It says here that you are Detective Ray Vecchio of the Chicago Police Department,"  he insisted.

        Ray gaped at him incredulously. How did this guy know he wanted to be a cop? He started to laugh nervously, then stopped abruptly, when it caused his head to pound more ferociously. "Ya definitely got the wrong guy, Doc," he denied. "I'm a college student." Ray's eyes moved briefly past the doctor to see the man in red approaching.

        "Ray!" the Nutcracker Prince exclaimed delighted, as he moved closer to the blond. "You're awake!"

         "No shit Sherlock," Ray grunted. The thin blonde eyed him warily, as the man continued to regard him happily. "What was yer first clue, the open eyes or da words comin' outta my mouth?"

         "Ah," the stranger smiled, amiably. "I see having just awakened, you are your usual cheerful self this morning."

        Ray regarded him curiously. "Do I know you, Mister?" he demanded, unable to understand why the Nutcracker Prince should know anything about what he was like in the mornings or any other time. "Do you teach one of my classes or somethin'?."

         "Classes, Ray?" the stranger frowned. "I…I am afraid I do not understand what you mean. It's me, Ray. Fraser."

        Ray returned his gaze blankly. "What's a Fraser?"

        "I am your partner, Ray."

        A light seemed to go on inside the Detective's head. "Oh, sure," he agreed, finally. "Ya must be…um…that new teaching assistant from Germany, thought ya talked kinda funny. I didn't think we were startin' on that project until after spring break. I don't even have my notes ready yet and I don't think Barry does either but…"

         "Ray," Fraser frowned again. "I do not understand what you are talking about. What project?"

         "Ya know da project for Professor Niles, the guy replacin' you at yer school fer that exchange thingy. We gotta construct a model…" Ray broke off and scowled. "Waitaminuite, if you're...what are you doin' here? If I'm in da hospital…"

         "Detective…" the doctor began and Ray shot him an angry look.

         "Stop callin' me that!" he snapped. "I told'ja my name's Ray, Ray Kowalski. Why am I here anyway? Where are my folks and…"

         "Mr. Kowalski," the doctor amended quickly, sensing his patient's agitation. "Do you not recognize this man." He indicated Fraser and Ray shrugged.

         "No, didn't I just say dat? Am I still speakin' English here?"

         "Ray, I'm not from Germany, I am from Canada," Fraser informed, hoping that his partner's confusion was only temporary.

         "We got an exchange program with Canada?" Ray inquired, as he closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. "My head hurts, Doc."

         "I'll see if I can get you something for it," the physician promised as he whispered something to Fraser, who cast the blond a worried look. "First however I would like to ask you some standard questions."

         "Okay," Ray sighed. He kept his eyes closed, as it seemed to help his dizziness.

         "Do you know what day this is?"

         "Tuesday," Ray replied calmly and the doctor nodded in satisfaction.

         "Can you tell me today's date, please?" He watched as Ray opened his eyes briefly, then closed them again in concentration.

         "Um…it's….ah… hmmm," Ray looked at the doctor perplexed.  "Dunno, but I think it's like March or somethin'."

        The Doctor's face remained passive. "What year is this?" he inquired.

         "Ya don't got a calendar, Doc?" Ray retorted, but the Doctor just waited patiently for his answer. "1985."

           Ray's gaze flew towards Fraser as the Mountie gasped, before returning to meet the Doctor's startled gaze. "Did I fail the test?" He had meant it as a joke but judging from the solemn expressions of his visitors, something was terribly wrong. "What's goin' on Doc? How did I get here? Have my folks been called, or my wife? Why aren't dey here?"

         "Your parents are in the cafeteria, Ray," Fraser assured, quietly. "I will go and fetch them if you like."

         "What about Stella?" Ray demanded, as an anxious, unpleasant feeling crept its way into his heart. "Where's Stella? Where's my wife?" Had they been in an accident together and Stella was seriously hurt? Ray's heart pounded in fear.

         "We will try to locate her, Mr. Kowalski," the doctor assured as he and Fraser took their leave.
 

          A couple of hours later, Stella Kowalski entered the private hospital room that her ex-husband had been moved to. She had just spent the last thirty minutes speaking with the Kowalski's, Fraser and Doctor Jordan.  She was now battling a flood of emotions about Ray's condition. Stella had gone white with shock when they announced it was Amnesia. What a truly frightening word, especially when applied to someone you loved and cared about.

         You often hear the misfortune of people suffering from Cancer, Aids, or Altzhimers, all well-known diseases that you could define and sometimes identify and sympathize with. Although, there was a certain stigma to such tragic afflictions and as distressing as this might be, there were certain ways one might be expected to handle such news. Amnesia, however, is a disease that could not be handled with experimental drugs or regular visits to a doctor's office.

         According to Dr. Jordan, Stella learned that very little is really known about what causes the affliction and there is no cure, other then time and patience. Some people have their memory return within days, but for others it takes years. And then there are those that never recapture all they've lost at all. It is as though someone flipped a switch inside the brain and erased days, months, even years from their memory. Even the simplest detail, like where you went to school, or what your name might be, is gone forever. The doctor warned her that many have a difficult time dealing with amnesia victims, because they just can't comprehend someone not remembering things they should know.

         Barbara Kowalski was half-hysterical and couldn't be trusted to see her son, until she could calm down. Damien didn't know what to say to his son so, for the moment, he also stayed away. Because Ray didn't remember Fraser at all, they all agreed that Stella should be the one to speak to Ray first. Perhaps she could soften the blow of things to come.

         Stella had refused at first, especially when she learned that Ray still believed they were married.  She realized though, that she couldn't turn her back on the man she loved, regardless of their separation. She could only imagine how frightened and confused Ray would be once she informed him that he had forgotten almost twelve years of his life.

         Stepping up to the bed she glanced down at her brave and handsome hero.  Impulsively she reached to catch a stray lock of his autonomous hair and push it away from his eyes. She would always love him.  He would always love her.  And they would both always share the regret that their love was not strong enough to keep them together. Now Ray had no memory of their fighting or of them growing apart and he probably thought they were still practically newlyweds. All of which caused Stella further guilt.

         "Hey," Ray greeted, his eyes opening at her touch. Thank God she was okay. He offered her a heart-warming smile. "I missed ya."

         Stella, drawn to kiss him, allowed herself to be pulled down to meet his lips. She cursed the familiar way their mouths fused together and yet sighed at the wonderful taste that was uniquely Ray's. Not wanting to aggravate his fractured ribs, she pulled away and watched the familiar expression of euphoria over come him.

         "Ray…" she began firmly, trying to distance herself, so she could tell him what she needed to. But as his fingers lifted to caress her shortened golden bob she found herself moving automatically into his touch.

         "Ya cut yer hair," he murmured, casting her a smoldering gaze hot enough to melt concrete. "I like it, makes ya look all grown up and sophisticated."

         She blushed, both in pleasure and despair. This was not going to be easy. Trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart, she schooled her features and searched for the words to begin. Ray continued to smile at her in that special way that always turned her legs to Jell-O and her brain to mush.

         God how she missed that smile. The way his eyes shimmered magically beneath those long lashes that Stella had always envied. He always seemed to regard her as though she was a long lost treasure that had, at last been uncovered. When things got bad and they had started to argue constantly, she found herself hating that look. It made her feel so vulnerable and it seemed her only defense was to become more hurtful towards him.

         "Ray, you have to listen to me," she finally managed, pulling away and trying to restore her usual reserved demeanor. "I am all grown up, that is…so are you." He watched her confused. "Ray, there was an accident and you were hurt."

         "Thus the trip to da hospital," Ray retorted with a slight grin, then he frowned again. "They won't tell me what's goin' on Stell, what's happened?"

         "Ray," she began. "You were hurt and you suffered a head injury."

        Ray nodded, as he folded his fingers with hers, his eyes falling on her bare ring finger. "Where are yer rings, Stell?" he demanded.

        Stella glanced down reluctantly at her left hand, watching Ray's callused thumb caress her ring finger puzzled. She bit her lower lip and raised her eyes to his again; all she could do was tell the truth. "Ray, honey…" she tried again. "You were hurt and…"

         "Ya didn't lose 'em did'ja?" he inquired anxiously, still on the subject of her missing rings. "I haven't even finished payin' fer 'em yet, babe."

         "Ray this isn't 1985!" Stella blurted, frustrated. "It's the year 1998. You have amnesia and…"

        Ray regarded her suspiciously but then grinned. "Okay, I was off by a month, April fools, ya got me, Stell." He chuckled. "I guess I did get the date wrong I…"

         "Ray I'm serious," she insisted firmly. "You have a head injury and you've regressed thirteen years."

         "Com'ahn Stell, quit teasin' me," Ray requested, as knots formed in his stomach. It was bad enough that he was in the hospital, he really didn't need her making fun of him too.

         "Sweetheart, I'm not teasing you," Stella denied adamantly, and stood to give him a better view of her. "Look at me, Ray. Really look at me, don't I look different? Older?"

        Ray cast her a bewildered look. "Ya look beautiful as always, Stell," Ray replied automatically. "I told'ja I like yer hair, it suits ya."

         Stella groaned in disbelief. Was he really so blinded by his love for her that he could not see the difference between the slim, long-haired unsophisticated girl she once was and the woman she had become?

         "Ray, I am not twenty-two anymore," Stella declared, reluctantly. She was not eager to be reminded of her age, but what choice did she have? "I'm thirty five."

        Ray gaped at her, then started to laugh nervously. But behind the forced smile she could see the clouded apprehension in his haunted blue-green eyes. "T...that's no good, Stell," he tried to joke, attempting to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. "If you were thirty-four, that would make me…" There was only a year and a half difference in their ages, and Ray couldn't comprehend that he was that old.

         "Thirty six in three weeks, Ray," Stella finished, pulling out a compact from her purse and showing him his reflection.

         Ray stared at the image before him, startled at the similarities he recognized, but also frightened by the differences evident in his older, wiser and stronger looking features. He couldn't help reaching up to touch his own face with shaking fingers. The reflection was truly real, and when it mimicked his movement his fearful and chaotic gaze met Stella's over the mirror.

         "W…what's goin' on, Stell?" he asked softly, sounding much like the young boy Stella had first met so long ago.

        She settled on the bed next to him, searching for the words to explain. "You have amnesia, Ray," She stated a second time. "You have pieces missing from your past," She watched his expression change from confusion to horror and she was quick to assure him. "It will be okay. The doctors said it will come back."

        Ray shook his head in denial. This couldn't be happening! People didn't really get amnesia. That was something out of television movies and fiction novels, not real life. This couldn't happen to him, he had a whole life ahead of him. He was going to do so many things, he and Stella were going to live such a great life together and have a family. Had he missed all of that-all those wonderful years with the woman he loved?

        "W…where's Mum?" Ray croaked, suddenly. "W…who's dat guy who was here? From Canada, he said he was my partner?"

         "He is your partner, Ray," Stella confirmed gently.

         "Partner in what?" Ray appealed, his voice rising in distress. Stella was the only partner he knew of, his partner for life. Who the hell was this Canadian guy to him? Why couldn't he remember?

        Stella wet her lips discreetly. It was best to just be honest. "Ray, you are a detective with the Chicago Police Department," she stated and tried to smile. "You said you wanted to be a cop, Ray, and you did it. Fraser is your partner, he's a Mountie."

         "A…a Mountie from Canada?" Ray repeated bewildered. "A…are we in Canada, Stell? Is that why he's here?"

         "No honey we're still in Chicago," Stella assured. "Fraser is also your best friend, Ray."

         "My best friend is Joe Thomas, Stell," Ray denied anxiously, determined to be sure about something in the chaos that now surrounded him. "Well, after you anyway. Me an' Joe are buddies fer life."

         "You and Joe haven't spoken in over ten years, Ray," Stella explained, "you had a falling out and…"

         "Over what?" Ray demanded his voice was growing more hysterical with each question and Stella realized she would have to call the nurse to sedate him. "Joe's been my friend since kindergarten, we always fight, but we…"

         "I don't remember what it was about, Ray," she dismissed, wanting to change the subject before Ray became too excited.

        Stella had not meant to cause him more confusion, but bringing up Joe's past behavior would certainly not help matters. The quarterback had always flirted with Stella, despite her attempts to get him to back off. She didn't want to come between him and Ray, so she never told Ray what Joe was doing. However, when Joe attempted to assault her one night after a school dance, Ray had found them and had almost beaten the man to death. The two hadn't spoken since.

        "Why don't you try and rest, Ray…"

          "Stell, am I really a cop?" Ray asked, amazed. "I...but how? I...I mean we only started talkin' about that a couple of months ago...about me goin' into Law Enforcement, I..."

        Stella shook her head. It was difficult to fathom that Ray was trapped so far in the past. "No, Ray, that was..." She paused, not wanting to say years and scare him even more. "A while ago. We'll talk about all that later. You'll probably have your memory back in a day or two and we'll laugh over this, really. Don't worry. The doctor's say..."

         "Where are yer rings, Stella?" Ray suddenly demanded, reaching for Stella's hand and gripping her fingers tightly in his. His face was deathly pale, a mask of fear and doubt, and Stella found herself unable to meet his penetrating gaze. "Where are yer rings? What else has changed?" His rising voice carried into the corridor, prompting a nurse to rush in.

         "I'm having them cleaned, Ray," Stella found herself saying, unable to stand the torment in her ex-husband's face, as the nurse gave them both a disapproving stare.

         A multitude of expressions seemed to flood Ray's face before he finally crumpled into her arms. He tried to quell his rising panic as his body trembled against hers. "Thank God!" he croaked as she held him to her. "Oh God, I thought…I thought…" 

        Stella wrapped her arms tighter around him, as the nurse left to find the doctor. Stella gently rocked him back and forth. "Ssssh, lover," she crooned, "it will be okay, Ray. I'm here and everything will be okay."

         "Never leave me, Stell," he murmured against her . "I love you so much." The nurse returned with a sedative and Ray pulled away from her and further into Stella's embrace. "Don't."

         "Let her give you the shot, Ray," Stella requested gently. "It will help you sleep."

        Ray shook his head adamantly. "I'm okay, I don't need it," he whispered. "You're here, Stella. You're all I need."

         Stella convinced the nurse to leave her husband be for the moment. The nurse frowned but wandered back to her station, leaving them alone in the room once more.

         "Love you, Stell," Ray murmured, drowsily.

        Stella was encouraged by the sudden limpness of his body against hers; thankful he was settling down on his own. She suspected the confusion and excitement had worn him out. "Lay back and try to rest, Ray," she suggested.

        Ray did as he was told, but maintained his hold on her hand. "Head hurts," he moaned, of course, the rest of his body was no picnic, but his head seemed the worst. "Even my hair hurts." He glanced up at her. "How's my hair, Stell-it's okay right?"

        Stella chuckled and nodded, sympathetically. That much had not changed, even after all these years. She ran her fingers through the hair that was her husband's one vanity and caressed his cheek. "You're hair is perfect as always, love," she assured, gently. "I know your head hurts, but they can't give you anything for it because you have a concussion. Just try to sleep now, Ray. Maybe that will help the pain."

          Ray fought to keep maintain eye contact with her. "Stay with me, Stell?" he pleaded. "I…I don't understand what's happenin', but if you're with me I'll be okay."

         "I'll be here, lover," Stella assured, amazed at how easy it was to slip back into the tenderness they once shared. "You sleep and I'll be right here beside you."

         Ray slowly moved over on the bed and Stella smiled at his intent, before kicking off her shoes and curling up beside him. It was against hospital procedure, but she didn't care right now. Her main concern was to calm Ray, protocol be damned. She almost laughed at her own thoughts; usually she was a stickler for rules. It had been one of the things she and Ray fought most about, her unwillingness to be impulsive or go against the norm.

         Ray sighed and nuzzled her hair. "Don't wanna go to sleep," he murmured as she curled into him and lay her head on his chest. He wrapped his good arm around her, comfortably. "Wanna make love."

        Stella smiled and ran her hand lovingly across the thin fabric of the hospital gown that covered his chest. "You always wanna make love," she teased.

         Ray was always insatiable when it came to her. He had definitely been good for her ego all those years ago. She didn't consider herself a troll or anything, but she found it both flattering and a little scary at how much Ray always desired her. He never seemed bored with her, even after their divorce. The sex was always good between them, even when everything else had fallen apart. Making love with Ray always brought her to heights no other man could rival.

         "Only with you, baby," Ray replied, his voice becoming softer as sleep started to win the battle. "Only ever want you."

         "I know," Stella sighed. Unfortunately for her ex-husband, that much had not changed.

        Ray still felt that incredible, first love every one experiences for her, the innocent, young love that is always best when it is brand new. That love had changed as they got older. For Stella the innocence became intolerance and the purity of Ray's love became obsession. She rubbed his chest soothingly, until he drifted into an uneasy sleep.
 
 

         Ray's dreams were filled with flashing moments of past and present, made up a distorted jumble of reality and fantasy. Trapped in a world where he recognized nothing and fear ruled his every thought. The one thing that calmed him through it all was the knowledge that when he awoke Stella still loved him. He could get through anything as long as they were together.

         His eyes finally popped open a couple of hours later, yet he felt as if he had been asleep for a week or more. He smirked, or years apparently, since it seemed he had missed so much. He simply couldn't comprehend that he could not remember the last thirteen years. It was all intensely bizarre. He felt like he was in an episode of the Twilight Zone and any moment someone would yell cut and everything would revert back to normal. Perhaps any minute someone would jump out and yell 'You're on Candid Camera' and a studio audience would start laughing.

         However, nothing remotely like that happened. Ray was left with the realization that this was indeed happening to him and was forced to deal with the horror of his situation. This was real and he felt trapped in a world he now knew so little about.

         The next thought that entered his mind was one that he was sure everyone, suffering some sort of disability or trauma, must ask; why him? He had lost his memory, not completely mind you and for that, he was grateful, but now there was blank space where memories should be.

         Ray still had twenty-two years to his credit, most of which he could recall quite clearly, so that was something, right? It wasn't as though he woke up not knowing who he was, or worse with sever brain damage. He was grateful that he had not been turned into a breathing vegetable, but the whole idea of having amnesia still scared him.

         Ray had yet to learn the facts about his accident. He imagined it could probably have been a lot worse. Stella said he was a police officer. Did his accident possibly involve criminal activity? Had he been shot or wounded trying to apprehend a suspect? A detective they said, with the Chicago PD and he had a Mountie for a partner. How messed up was that? Yet, he had always dreamed of being a cop someday and it now appeared as if he had made it.

         Shaking his head at the insanity of it all, Ray immediately regretted the action as the dull throbbing reminder of his injuries turned into an incessant pounding. He gritted his teeth and glanced toward the window, where Fraser and an older woman stood, speaking quietly. A Mountie from Canada, Stella had claimed, his partner and his friend.

         The sudden guilt of not remembering the man he had dubbed the Nutcracker Prince caused him to lower his eyes in shame, but not before the woman turned toward him. Seeing he was awake, she rushed over and threw her arms around him.

         "Stanley!" she cried, kissing his cheek tenderly.

        Ray stared at her in shock. "M…Mum?" he croaked in disbelief.

         Barbara Kowalski looked so…so old, so tired and frail. Nothing at all like the smiling, rosy-cheeked woman Ray remembered as his Mother. Her once robust frame had thinned dramatically, her eyes and cheekbones were decidedly more hollow against noticeably paler skin, and her beautiful blond hair, so much like Ray's own, was streaked with the color of fresh snow. Her childlike hands, still soft as silk as they cradled his face, were spotted and crippled with age and arthritis.

        Ray cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, noticing how she still had he face of a story book pixie. He ran trembling fingers through the white of her hair. "Oh, Mum," he whispered, unable to hide his despair. "W...what happened to you you...you look so...so different so...so much... older."

        Barbara Kowalski chuckled and leaned into his touch. "That's because I am older now, Stanley," she smiled, though her eyes were bright with unshed tears at her son's dismay. "It happens to all of us honey, sooner or later."

        Ray shook his head, unable to express the emotions that flooded him.

         Barbara pulled him in for another embrace. "Mum's here now, baby," she murmured. "Everything will be okay now."

         Ray swallowed his grief as much as he was able and returned her embrace. She still smelled and felt the same, yet she was so much different then the Mother he remembered. The sight of her older appearance drove home to Ray the awful reality he had been unwilling to grasp before. He really had missed years of being with his family, being with his folks and with Stell. He and Stell hadn't even celebrated their one year anniversary  yet, how could he have missed so much?

         Ray hugged her tighter. "I love you, Mum," he whispered. His voice conveyed a dozen different things at once; confusion, fear, anger, and sympathy. His eyes seemed to plead for forgiveness at not protecting her better against the fate age had brought to her.

         "I love you, my sweet, sweet boy," Barbara returned softly, blinking back her tears. She had to be strong for her Stanley. Pulling back, she offered him a brave smile. "Dad's in the coffee shop with Stella, they'll be up here again soon. How're you feeling?  Do you want something to eat? Would you like to sit up? The bed moves as you like and…"

         "I'm fine, Mum," Ray told her, with a small grin. Yep, she was definitely his Mother. "My...I'm just sore y'know?"

        Barbara stopped fussing and indicated Fraser, beckoning the Mountie to join them. "Stanley, this is your friend, Benton," she introduced.

         Fraser offered his hand politely. "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police," he greeted.

          Ray shook his hand, awkwardly. "That's a mouthful," Ray commented and quickly retracted his hand. The presence of his Mother reminded him of his upbringing. "Um...how ya doin', Sir?"

        Fraser tried not to show his surprise at Ray's respectful address. "I am fine, Ray," he replied. "It is your health that concerns me. How is your headache? Shall I go for a doctor?"

         "No, Sir," Ray quickly, refused. "No, thank you." He looked at his Mother. "I just wanna go home, Mum. Can ya get Stella to take me outta here."

         Barbara clucked in concern. "I...I don't think you can go just yet, Stanley," she commented. She tried to fluff his pillow and make him more comfortable, only to have Ray patiently push her hands away and readjust the pillow to where it was. "How about something to eat, honey I..."

        "I'm not hungry, Mum," Ray refused, gently.

         Barbara was undeterred. "Something to drink then?" she suggested. "You should have plenty of liquids in you, all the doctors say so and..."

        "Mum, dat's for the flu."

        "Well then maybe a nice oatmeal bath or..."

        "I don't have Chickenpox either, Mum," Ray insisted.

        "Well what the hell do they give someone for amnesia, then?" Barbara cried, finally showing her distress. She slapped a hand over her mouth and turned away, appalled.

        "Mum," Ray called, reaching to pull her closer and turning her to face him again. He couldn't stand to see her so upset. She couldn't help wanting to take care of him, but Ray didn't know what to tell her. He was as much in the dark of what to do as she was. "Mum, don't cry, there's not...Mum, please....peanuts...peanut butter cookies."

        Both Barbara and Fraser glanced at him, startled.

        "W...what?" Barbara sniffed.

         Ray wiped at her tears. "Peanut butter cookies, " he repeated. "I hear peanuts are great fer a person's memory."

        Barbara cast him a suspiciously hopeful glance. "R...really?"

        "An elephant never fergets, right?" Ray teased. "And dey eat a lot of peanuts."

         Mother smiled. "No, no that's true," she admitted, composing herself. "Good, good then. When your father comes back I...I'll just go find you some...some peanut butter cookies. That will make you feel better won't it, Stanley?"

        "Of course it will," Ray agreed, readily. "But, why don't ya just see about gettin' me released and we can home and you can make me some cookies?"

        Barbara scowled. "Stanley, they're still running tests," she protested. "They can't just toss you back out into the world without proper…"

         "I don't wanna be here!" he declared, his voice rising again in agitation, "I just wanna go home. I don't…"

         "Ray," Fraser's voice had an amazingly calming effect on him, which truly surprised Ray. "We know you are not fond of hospitals, but you must stay until they have had time to check you properly. If you cooperate you will be released that much sooner."

         "One of us will be here at all times, honey," Barbara promised, trying to sooth her son. "We won't leave you alone for a moment or…"

         "Mum don't coddle me, I'm not a child!" Ray snapped. "I just don't like hospitals, is all. I'm not a baby fer chri…"

         "Then stop acting like it," Stella demanded entering the room, Damien Kowalski close behind her. "Calm down or they'll have to sedate you."

        Ray shook his head miserably, and met his Mother's wounded gaze. He rarely rose his voice to his Mother, certainly never in anger. "I...I'm sorry Mum I didn't mean to yell, I...

         Barbara moved aside. "I'll go find you those cookies, Stanley," she decided and moved out of the room.
 
        Ray stared after her forlornly, and then at Stella who moved to fold him into her embrace. "I…I'm sorry. I just…I…I don't know what's goin' on, Stell," he croaked. "I feel like I'm loosin' my mind."

         "You'll be okay," Stella soothed. "Your memory will return in a few days. You just have to be patient."

         "Not his strongest virtue," Damien remarked as he stepped up to place a hand on his son's shoulders. "How ya doin' son?"

        Fraser observed Ray's barely hidden despair at his father's aged appearance, much like his reaction to Barbara.

        Ray quickly masked his features and sat up straighter and away from Stella. "I've been better, Dad," he returned, quietly. "I didn't mean to yell at Mum, really I...I'm just a little messed up."

        Damien chuckled. "Yer Mum's used to yer temper, son," he assured. "You're a fighter. You'll get through dis little set back just fine."

         "Yes, Sir," Ray returned. "I…where's Baba?  Does she know I'm here?"

          Stella and the Kowalski's exchanged a disturbed glance at the mention of Ray's beloved grandmother. Ray had always doted on the older woman, who couldn't speak a word of English. She had stubbornly refused to learn since Ray so often was willing to be her interpreter.

         "Son…" Damien began, trying to find the words to explain without causing his son more pain and confusion.

         "She's gone, Ray," Stella finished for her ex-father-in-law. "Baba died a little over four years ago."

          Ray's face turned chalk white as he stared at her in disbelief. Glancing at his father for conformation, he rapidly started to blink at the sudden moisture in his eyes. He started to hyperventilate, even as he released a cry of anguish that he could no longer contain.

          Oh God! Oh God not Baba! She was going to live forever. She was the only one who ever understood him. She was the one person who made him feel special. The person who… He shook his head and curled his hands into fists, rubbing his knuckles against his temples as he began rocking back and forth.

        This was a reaction that Fraser had seen his partner perform only a few times. The Mountie had always suspected it was one of Ray's coping mechanisms for stressful situations and now he was sure of it. Obviously, the habit came from childhood, as Ray was still remembering himself as a young man. Fraser watched helplessly as Ray's tears overflowed and spilled down his cheeks

         Damien Kowalski had turned away from his son, trying to hide his own tears, as Stella rubbed Ray's back. She tried to soothe him with tender words, hating that he had to relive the death of a woman he had treasured so deeply, considering how difficult it had been for him to get past his grief the first time.

         Finally, when Stella's ministrations did not appear to be helping his son's despair, Damien settled on the bed. He put his arms around his youngest son and cradled Ray's face against his chest, as he had when Ray was a child. Damien began to whisper a prayer that his Mother had taught him. After the first couple of lines, Ray quieted. He wiped at his tears, but remained in his father's embrace. Finally, he added his voice to Damien's, the foreign language rolling easily off his tongue.

        Fraser couldn't help but be impressed by how beautiful the Polish prayer sounded.

         When they finished, Stella noticed that Ray's eyes were growing heavy and she motioned Fraser that they leave the two men alone.

        Damien watched them leave and started humming a lullaby. Ray was already half asleep, as his father continued to gently rock him back and forth. When he was sure Ray had finally drifted off,  Damien carefully laid his son back and covered him with the thin sheets. He bent to kiss Ray's cheek, briefly touching the bandage that covered his son's head.

         "It's all right, son," he whispered. He gently wiped the remaining tears from Ray's face, before taking a swipe at his own. "Baba's gone, but we're still here and we love ya just as much as she did. Y'know dat, son, y'know we all love ya more than anything in dis world."
 

         Two days later, Ray's memory still had not returned. When Stella learned that the hospital was ready to release him, she decided she had to tell him the truth. His injuries were not severe enough to keep him admitted. His body simply needed time to heal, as did his memory. As hard as it would be to face him with the truth, she couldn't continue with the farce that they were still married.

         Stella knew Ray was expecting to go home with her to their apartment, a place that no longer existed. She also knew that she couldn't very well take him back to where either of them lived now. Torn between wanting to protect him and needing to tell him the truth, she felt honesty was really her only option. She was sure, if she tried to keep up the farce it would only hurt him more when he did find out the truth. They led separate lives now and that couldn't be changed simply because Ray had lost his memory.

         "You can't tell him!" Barbara Kowalski refused when Stella met them on the way to Ray's room that morning. "It will kill him!"

         "Ray is stronger than you think, Mum," Stella insisted. "He'll find out sooner or later and I would rather he hear it from me."

         "It's too soon," Damien protested. "Doesn't he have enough ta deal with fer Christ's sake?"

         "Please, Stella," Barbara pleaded, "We'll take him home with us and we...we can wait awhile, see if…"

         "Mum I can't!" Stella denied. "I only went along with it at all because he was so hurt and confused. He understands this isn't 1985 and that things have changed."

         "How can you be so cruel?" Damien charged. "Didn't ya do enough damage the first time? Do you wanna see him suffer through yer divorce a second time? I thought you loved Raymond, but ya don't, yer such a heartless little bi…!"

         "Damien!" Barbara warned.  She turned back to Stella again as they approached Ray's room. "There has to be some other way."

         "I do love Ray," Stella confirmed, flashing Damien an angry glance, yet understanding his frustration. "If there was another way to do this you know that I would, but there isn't. He won't agree to go stay with you and you know it. I can't bring him back to live with me, there would be too many questions and he'd just be more confused. Sooner or later, my neighbors or someone would let it slip and I'd rather he hear it from me then a stranger."

         "You can't tell Raymond, damnit!" Damien exclaimed just as Ray and Fraser stepped out of the hospital room.

         Holding his partner's few belongings; Fraser walked beside Ray as the detective limped along. Fraser was still in his red serge, having come straight from work.

        Ray had refused to be discharged in a wheelchair and couldn't use the crutches they had offered because of his ribs, so they had offered him a small cane for added support. His still bandaged head would remain so for another few days, to assure the wounds would heal properly.

         "Tell me what, Dad?" Ray asked. His eyes lit up at the sight of them. He smiled and leaned down to kiss Stella tenderly and she allowed it, avoiding the Kowalski's accusing gaze. "Hi sweetheart."

         "Ray, I…I have to talk to you," she insisted and gently grabbed his arm to lead him back to the hospital room.

        Barbara and Damien exchanged a mournful glance. "Oh, Damien," she sobbed, turning to her husband for comfort.

         "May I ask…" Fraser began hesitantly as the door of Ray's room closed quietly.

         "Stella's gonna tell Raymond they're no longer married," Damien stated gruffly.

         Fraser cast another look toward where his friend had gone. "Oh dear," he murmured regretfully.
 
 

         "Tell me what, Stell," Ray asked, as he tossed his cane on the bed and pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck lovingly. "God you smell good."

          Fighting the temptation to just melt in his arms and let him do as he would with her, Stella tried to remain rigid.

         "Ray…" she licked her lips, as his mouth traced a tender trail of kisses along her collarbone. What was she saying? Oh yes. "Ray, you have amnesia."

         "So ya tell me," Ray murmured, continuing his quest up the side of her jawbone. "But I haven't forgotten you, Stell. The way you smell, the way you feel...mmmm, so good, baby."

         Stella licked her lips again, her mouth was incredibly dry. "Yes, well you…" She lost her train of thought again as his lips caressed both her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead and nose. "You…you…"

         Their lips finally met and she was lost. She wrapped her arms around him, enjoying the familiar feel of their bodies moving together. Stella sighed in delight as their tongues found each other at last. She could feel the pressure of his arousal pressed intimately against her and her excitement grew. It had been so long since they…She broke away suddenly, realizing why it had been so long.

        Ray looked at her, startled. "What's wrong, Stell?" he asked, softly.

        Stella automatically put more distance between them. "Ray just…just shut up and listen," she demanded. She sounded harsher than she had intended and she had to lower her eyes from his wounded expression.

         "Okay, Stella," Ray returned meekly, leaning back against the bed to take some of the pressure off his leg. The position only made him appear more vulnerable.

         "Ray…a…a lot has changed," Stella began quietly, moving to peer out the window, unable to face him with what she had to say. "You…you dropped out of school and…you became a cop, a very good cop. You…you're very close to Fraser, he's your best friend." She paused to allow that to sink in, waiting to see if he would comment.  But as usual, once she told him to be quiet he remained silent in deference to her wishes. That changed as he grew older, which was what aggravated half of their fights. Ray didn't know when to let something go. "We…you and I have changed as well. Things…things are different between us now and…and it's very hard to say this but…"

         "Yer rings," Ray commented, quietly.

        Stella turned back toward him in surprise. "W…what?"

         Ray met her gaze with moist eyes. "Yer rings," he repeated so painfully soft that his tone was like a knife in Stella's chest. "You're still...still not wearin' yer wedding rings, Stella and... and…" he held up his left hand forlornly. "Neither am I."

        Stella watched him swallow convulsively as he wrapped his arms around himself protectively and stared at the floor.

        "They're not gettin' cleaned, are dey, Stell?"

         Stella bit her lip. "I…n…no, Ray," she managed huskily, surprised at the sudden tremor in her voice and the moisture in her eyes.

         She knew this was hurting him, but there was no other way.  She remembered the first time that she had told him she wanted a divorce. It was like reliving the whole awful scene all over again. She had seen the utter desolation and defeat in his posture, the pain mirrored in his eyes, despite his attempts to hide them. Now as then it was as though the inner-light that she always admired most about him flickered and died like a candle's flame doused by a strong wind.

         "We…we're not…we got…" Ray bit his lip and shook his head. He couldn't even force the hated words past his lips. "But...it...it hasn't even been a year, Stella. We...we can work it out we can...."

         "I'm sorry, Ray," Stella whispered, as he continued to stare at the floor. "It's been almost thirteen years. We've been separated for two of those years and...and our divorce was final six months ago."

        Ray's arms had unfolded to grip the rail of the bed behind him. Divorce. He and Stella were divorced, what an ugly word that was. Ray had thought they would have a good marriage, a strong marriage like the one his folks had.

        Stella mentioned he had dropped out of school, was that why things didn't work, because Ray hadn't furthered his education? Did she get tired of being with a dumb Polock, who would stay dumb? He knew that Stella enjoyed a finer group of friends, the better things in life, and Ray meant to give them to her. Somewhere, he must have screwed up, or Stella wouldn't have left.

         "Did…was I a bad husband?"

         "No!" Stella assured, quickly. "You were a wonderful husband, Ray. We just…we just didn't see eye to eye on some things and it…we could no longer stay together."

         Ray raised his anguished gaze to hers. "What things?" he asked quietly. "If it's school I'll go back. He hadn't been overly fond of college, but he would certainly try again if it meant having Stell as his wife again. "or was it...because I became a cop?" He'd heard not many relationships survived the stress that came with being in Law Enforcement. "I...I don't even remember dat, Stell. I don't have to be one anymore, I don't know how now I..."

         "No, Ray," Stella insisted, quickly. "You are...were...a great cop, that had nothing to do with it."

        That was a lie. Some of the problem had been Ray's job, but not in the way he was thinking. Ray's habit of keeping things from her when he was assigned to vice and started doing undercover work was the problem. She hadn't expected him to tell her everything, obviously there would be a conflict of interest. However, Ray would keep even the good things from her, like rescuing that kid in the warehouse years ago. Stella had learned about it from the reporter that had covered the story.

        However, Stella could admit that she was just as dedicated to her own career and their marriage simply had not survived her ambition and Ray's need for attention. She fully believed that the main reason Ray pressed for having kids was because they no longer had as much in common. Sure, they had talked about it before they were married, she knew that Ray did want to have a family with her and be a father; but Stella believed there was still plenty of time for that further down the road. She was sure that their growing apart had prompted Ray to press for a family so soon, as he wanted something to recover the bond they once had. Stella didn't want to have a kid just to save their marriage.

        "What things then, Stella?" Ray demanded. "What the hell did I do wrong that you'd....why?"

        "I…different things, Ray," Stella managed, hesitantly. "I…I was working a lot and so were you.  We…we hardly had time for each other let alone…you…you wanted children and I…I just wasn't…I felt we should wait."

         "So…no…no kids," Ray confirmed, tonelessly.

         Stella nodded, sadly. How many times had she doubted her decision these past few months? Now her biological clock was ticking away and, although she dated often, Stella just couldn't see herself having a child with anyone other than Ray. She had thrown away that chance when she divorced him. Stella suspected that, before Ray's injury especially, if she asked to try again Ray would have leapt at the chance. However, Stella knew the same problems would plague them and she couldn't hurt him like that again just to satisfy her own need for a child. It wouldn't be fair to either of them.

        "No kids, no…no wife and no…no marriage, is…is that what you're tellin' me Stell?" Ray's voice no longer hid his distress and Stella wiped at the tears she could no longer contain. "I've lost everything I...I care about and I…all I got now is a job I don't remember and a Mountie, who I don't know, fer a partner, and a freakin' head injury! Is that about it, Stella? Is dat the lot?"

         "Ray, please…" Stella began stepping toward him.

        Ray flinched away. "Don't touch me!" he snarled. "Don't come near me, Stella." He bit back a sob and shook his head. "Why did you lie to me? Why did ya let me think you still loved me?"

        "Ray, I do still love you," Stella insisted. "I...we just can't be together and..."

        "Why? Why can't we be together?" Ray insisted, his face contorted in an agony Stella could no longer look at. "Tell me what I did wrong? We just started making a life together, Stella! How can you want to give it up already? I..." He paused. "Is this about Gail? I...if it is you know dat was a mistake and I only...I was upset and...and...."

        "Ray this has nothing to do with that stupid woman at the track!" Stella exclaimed, appalled he would even bring it up.

        It had been so many years ago, that Stella had almost forgotten about it, but she imagined it was still fresh in Ray's memory. To her ex-husband it was less than a year ago when Stella decided she needed some space from him. Ray had been angry and hurt that she wanted to cool things down between them and even date other people. While in college, Ray liked to go to the track on occasion, not so much for gambling, but because he loved watching the horses run. Ray would claim they were such powerful and majestic animals, he could get memorized just watching them.

        While at the track, Ray met a woman named Gail, who took pity on his broken heart. She claimed
to be alone as well, new in town with no friends and looking for a place to stay. Ray, in his vulnerable
state, could only see that a beautiful woman, other than Stella, was paying attention to him and he offered to let her stay at his place. Unfortunately, the woman robbed Ray blind, what few valuables he had as well as his wallet.

        Ray had felt stupid for being taken in so easily and it only seemed to enforce his desire to become a
cop and stop people like Gail from victimizing others. Stella, dated around and found no one that could
make her feel the way Ray had,  so she came crawling back to him less than a month later and Ray
confessed to her about Gail. He hadn't slept with the woman, but he had wanted to and he had invited her.

        "Ray," Stella began gently. "It has nothing to do with Gail, or Joe, or anything but you and me. We just didn't..."

        Ray turned away from her. "If I can't be with you Stella, I..." He shook his head again. "I wish to God I had never woken up. I wish ya had let me die."

         Stella shook her head and moved to embrace him. "Please don't say that, Ray," she insisted. "Life goes on, honey. We're still friends we can..."

        Ray shook his head and turned to face her,"I don't want to be yer friend, Stella!" he cried. "I wanna be yer husband, yer life mate. Ya said we would be, Stell, you made the promise before God! How could ya just throw dat away? We promised before God to stay together until death, we said. Until death Goddamnit!"

        Stella's patience snapped, despite her inner turmoil. "Oh for God's sake, Ray!" she exclaimed. "Get down off the cross, someone else needs the wood. People get married and get divorced every damn day and it has nothing to do with God, King or Country so give it a rest."

        She had forgotten that Ray was far more religious when they were younger than he had become
after years on the force. He was still as brazen and temperamental as he always was, but his Mother was
true to her faith and Ray would never go against anything that Barbara Kowalski asked of him. He and
Stella had attended Church regularly with his parents. However, once the Kowalski's moved away, Ray
stopped going and it was hard for him retain his faith and beliefs after the types of atrocities he witnessed
every day on the street. Ray became hypocritical of any organized religion, but he still held on to his faith
in God and his belief that there was one soul mate for everyone out there; he had thought Stella was his.

        Stella regretted her harsh words, it wasn't Ray's fault that he had forgotten the things that had
hardened him. She stepped forward to offer an apology.

        Ray turned away and dropped his chin to his chest, trying to hide his despair as he rested one hand
against the wall in front of him. "Get out," he murmured, before she could touch him. "Please, just...just
leave me alone...I don't want you to..." He wiped angrily at his tears. Ray hated falling apart in front of
her. "Just go. Please."

        Stella bit her lip and nodded. She turned and walked out of the room.

       Ray broke the moment the door closed behind her. Ignoring the pain in his leg and ribs, because the agony of his heart was so much greater, he grabbed his cane and anything else that wasn't tied down and proceeded to trash the room. When there was nothing left to throw, turn over, kick, or tear up he started hitting the wall furiously with his fists, uncaring that it had a solid concrete overlay.

        "Ray stop it!" an authoritative voice ordered, as someone grabbed Ray from behind and restrained
him.

        Ray struggled, he hadn't done enough damage, he still had the fury boiling in him and he had to
get rid of it, didn't this person understand that? "Leave me alone!" he screamed at Fraser. "Get away from me! I don't even know you!" Ray squirmed free of the Mountie's grip and swung at him. "Get off me!"

        Fraser dodged the assault and swallowed his despair at his partner's words. He caught hold of his partner a second time, trying to be careful of Ray's injuries, while still restraining him from doing further damage to himself. Fraser exchanged a meaningful glance with the Kowalski's and a nurse who had also entered the room. The three quietly left and Fraser increased his hold on his struggling partner.

        "This won't help, Ray," he insisted, firmly.

        Ray tried to strike out at the Mountie a second time and gasped when the movement caused a piercing pain through his ribcage and chest. He doubled over in agony and Fraser caught him.

        "Do you want to be discharged today or not?" Fraser asked.

       That gave Ray pause and somehow the knowledge of an extended stay permeated his thick fog of
of rage and despair. He stopped struggling and straightened slowly, as he attempted to catch his breath. He shook his head, miserably.

        "Then calm down," Fraser suggested, gently. "I know you are upset, but you have to stop this. I'll get you out of here and you can destroy to your heart's content, but you have to get a hold of yourself or they won't release you. Do you understand?"

        Again Ray nodded, confused at why he was even listening to this man, this stranger. "It's not fair," he heard himself whimper, both from from pain and distress. Suddenly, he was being turned and the strong arms that had restrained him, now became his comfort.

        Fraser's heart was in his throat at the agony and confusion evident in Ray's expression and voice. "I know," he whispered, sympathetically.

        Ray pushed away and raised his eyes to the Mountie's. "How do you know?" he demanded, hoarsely. "How do you know what it feels like? What I feel like?"

        Fraser almost smiled, how many times had Ray asked him that question; doubted how well Fraser claimed to know him. "Because you are my partner and my friend, Ray," he reminded.

        Ray shook his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt, puzzlement and astonishment. "I don't even know you," he denied, distraught. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I don't."

        Fraser nodded. "I know, Ray. That's all right, don't worry about that right now." He released Ray, now that the detective had calmed somewhat. "Just know that I am here for you, however you need me, okay?"

        Ray continued to stare at him, then started to wiped at his eyes, started when Fraser caught his hand and prevented it.

        "You've bloodied your knuckles, Ray," Fraser commented, offering his handkerchief to his partner. "You don't want to get blood in your eyes."

        Ray glanced at his hands uncaring, then accepted the cloth and wiped at the tears on his face. "I hate this," he muttered. "I hate not remembering. I hate losin' my..." He paused searching for the right word. Temper, mind, wife, life. "Self," he finished, forlornly.

        "I'm sure it will come back, Ray," Fraser offered as he moved away to wet a cloth from the small sink in the washroom. He returned and wiped at Ray's knuckles. "I lost my memory once, I didn't even know my own name, it was quite intimidating and frightening. However, it did eventually return, as I am sure your memory will."

        A small flicker of hope seemed to enter the detective's eyes. "Really?" he asked, suspiciously. "You're not just yankin' my chain are you?"

        "I never lie, Ray," Fraser assured, as he finished cleaning the blood away and pulled the small tube of antibiotic ointment from his belt. He applied it librally across Ray's knuckles.

        Ray shot him another look of disbelief. "Never?" he scoffed. "Everybody lies." His nose wrinkled up in distaste. "What's dat stuff?"

        Fraser smirked. "I do my very best not to lie, Ray,"  he replied, capping the tube. "This will prevent infection and..." He remembered Ray's initial reaction when Fraser had listed some of the ingredients in the ointment once before. "And you probably don't want to know what is in it."

        For some reason, Ray believed him. "What was yer name again, Sir?"

         The Mountie found it difficult to have his friend continue to address him so formally. This was a side of Ray that Fraser had rarely seen. Obviously, when he was still a young man, Ray adhered to the manners his parents had taught him. Perhaps being a cop had hardened him. Although, Ray had often been kind and polite to senior citizens and women, he was more often crude and impatient when it came to dealing with most people.

        Fraser cleared his throat. "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal…" he began and was only mildly surprised that the blond cut him off, impatiently.

         "Yah, okay, Constable …"

         "Oh well, er… you usually just call me Fraser, or Frase, Ray," Fraser replied, slightly disconcerted  at hearing his full title cross his friend's lips.

            "Isn't that yer last name?" Ray asked, puzzled.

            "Yes."

            "I thought we were friends?"

            "We are, Ray," Fraser assured. "Good friends, only..."
 
        Ray waved him quiet a second time, showing that a hint of the Kowalski Fraser knew and loved was returning. "Fine, Fraser, then," he acknowledged wincing as he moved to settle on the bed and tried to dispell the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him. "Ya know where I live, Fraser?"

         "Yes, Ray."

         "Good, can…would you take me home, please?" Ray requested his brief slip forgotten and his manners intact once more. He handed Fraser back the handkerchief. "I...I mean assuming I didn't move back with my folks when...when Stella..."

            "You have your own apartment, Ray," Fraser stated and Ray seemed relieved.

            "Oh, okay that's good..." Ray replied. "Not..not that I mind my folks I mean..I love my folks I just..."

        The Mountie nodded. "Understood, Ray," he agreed as the Kowalski's entered the room, quietly. Ray rose once more, refusing to appear weak in front of them.

         "Stanley…" Barbara automatically moved to embrace him, but Ray pulled away, avoiding her hurt expression by casting his gaze toward Fraser.

            "Consta...I mean Fraser is gonna take me home now, he says he knows where I live."

           "Oh, Stanley," Barbara protested. "Why don't you come home with us and..."

           Damien stepped in and placed an arm around his wife's shoulders. "The boy needs time to adjust, Barbara," he insisted, before smiling at Ray. "We'll stop by later, son, after you're settled."

         Ray nodded and bent to kiss Barbara's cheek. "I'll see ya later, Mum," Ray promised, again pulling back before she could hug him. "Would you guys sign me out or whatever?"

        His parents nodded and Ray accepted the cane that Fraser had retrieved for him. The Mountie had already restored some order to the room, with the help of a nurse that had entered with the Kowalski's.

        The nurse stepped up and smiled at Ray, before pulling out a role of gauze she had brought with her. She refrained from reprimanding him as she wrapped it around both of Ray's knuckles. "This will help," she told him, sweetly. "Keep your hands out of hot water for a few days, okay?"

        Ray nodded, chagrined. "I...I'm sorry fer...fer...losin' it I didn't mean..."

        The nurse waved his apology away. "Don't you worry about it," she assured. "You've been
through a lot and..." She winked at him. "...I've wanted to lose it myself a few times."

        Ray smiled at her and she blushed, prettily. "Thank you," he offered, sincerely.

        The nurse lowered her eyes, shyly, then composed her features to appear more strict. "Well, you
just behave yourself from now on and no more beating up on inanimate objects," she ordered, her eyes
twinkling with amusement. "They can't fight back you know and that simply isn't fair."

         Ray nodded. "I'll try," he agreed, softly.

        They all stepped into the hall, just as Stella Kowalski emerged from one of the washrooms, all evidence of her tears washed away and replaced by fresh makeup. Her expression however, held a misery that mirrored her ex-husbands.

        Ray was speaking and walking away with Fraser, so he did not see his ex-wife. The Kowalski's deliberately turned away from her and moved toward the nurse's desk to check any additional paperwork on their son.
 
         Fraser led Ray to the GTO that he had retrieved from Ray's apartment lot and watched the detective's eyes light up in wonder.

         Ray paused in mid stride. "Wow! This is yer car?" he demanded surprised. "Me and Dad are rebuildin' a GTO fer…"

         "This is the car that you and your father rebuilt, Ray," Fraser assured as Ray circled the car reverently, appreciating the detail and high sheen polished paint job. "He gave it to you a few months ago."

         "Dad…he gave me the GTO?" Ray could hardly believe it, this was his father's prized possession, next to his Mum of course. He gingerly lifted the hood and peered inside to inspect the engine. "This was his baby. He…we worked day and night on 'er, scrounging parts and…I can't believe he gave it to me."

         "I suppose that speaks well for what your father thinks of you then, Ray," Fraser offered, kindly.

        Ray closed the hood and opened the driver's side door, settling in the seat to give the interior a good once over. "Yah, My Dad's great. God, this is incredible!" Ray was like a kid in a candy store, his eyes the size of saucers as he inspected the vehicle. "It hardly looks the same at all." He started to lean across the leather seats to examine the dash and floorboards, then winced as the movement put unwanted pressure on his ribs and injured knee.

         "Careful, Ray," Fraser admonished, watching his partner grimace and sit back up.

        Ray smirked. "Keep fergettin'," he mused. Yah, he definitely  had a memory problem. Something warm and moist tickled his ear and he swatted it away, automatically. He turned toward the source and was suddenly face to face with the grinning beast seated behind him. "Holy Shit!" Ray scrambled out of the car so quickly that he landed hard on his tailbone. "That's a wolf!"

        Fraser rushed to assist him. "Calm down, Ray," Fraser encouraged. "Diefenbaker is only half wolf and..."

         Diefenbaker interrupted  the Mountie's speech by leaping from the vehicle and throwing himself at his favorite American, licking Ray profusely.

         "Help! He's tryin' ta eat me, Fraser!" Ray cried, the near hysteria evident in his voice. The blonde tried to shield his face from the wolf and Fraser pulled Diefenbaker away.

         "No, Ray," the Mountie assured. "He isn't trying to eat you, he's just very happy to see you." Fraser leaned down to speak directly to the wolf. "Diefenbaker, you should be ashamed of yourself. I explained that Ray does not remember you and now you've scared him."

        Diefenbaker lowered his eyes contritely and sat down next to Fraser forlornly.

         "H...happy?" Ray managed nervously, as Fraser offered him a hand up off the ground, allowing the Detective to lean on him for support of his injured leg.

         "Diefenbaker is sorry for scaring you, Ray," Fraser offered as he helped steady his partner who skittered around the wolf toward the car again.

         "Y…you have a pet wolf?" Ray asked confused. He didn't like the way the animal was still staring at him, like Ray was the next meal on the menu. "Ya can't have a cat or dog or somethin' normal?"

         "Diefenbaker is not my pet, Ray," Fraser corrected, "he is my companion and he refuses to think of himself as anything else. He is our friend."

         "O…our?" Ray repeated slowly and Fraser nodded.

         "Diefenbaker is very fond of you, Ray."

         "Um…okay, er...sure." the blond muttered. "Why's he lookin' at me like dat?"

         "He wishes to accompany us to your apartment, Ray," Fraser explained. "However he feels badly for frightening you before and is awaiting your forgiveness."

         "My forgiveness?" Ray repeated. "He's a wolf, Fraser. A wild animal, doin' I guess what wild animals do. Why should it matter if I forgive him or not?"

         "Diefenbaker is very sensitive to your feelings, Ray," Fraser explained. "He will not go somewhere he is not wanted."

        Ray continued to glance nervously at the wolf, which truly did look remorseful, for a wolf anyway. "Um…okay he…he can come, I guess," he finally agreed and watched the wolf's ears perk up. "Just… just tell 'em ta, y'know…lay off on the lickin' part 'til…well until I know 'em better."

         Ray couldn't believe he was referring to the wolf like a real person. Maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought. However, when the animal bounded past him into the car and curled up in the back seat he couldn't help smiling.

         "Would you like to drive, Ray?" Fraser suggested handing his partner the keys. "It is your car after all."

        Ray took the keys gratefully; at least he still remembered how to drive.

         Fraser walked around and settled in the passenger side as Ray moved behind the wheel, carefully positioning his left leg away from his right.

        Ray took a few deep calming breaths then pushed the key into the ignition and listened wondrously to the soft purr of the engine. "Fantastic," he murmured to himself. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, as Fraser watched Ray trace the steering wheel with his long fingers. Finally, he cast Fraser a shy look. "Um…where are we goin'?"

        Fraser cursed his own stupidity. "Forgive me, Ray," he requested contritely.

        Ray noticed, with some amazement, that the Mountie and the wolf shared a common expression.

        "Turn right out of the parking lot and I shall direct you."

         A short time later, Fraser inserted the key to Ray's apartment and pushed the door open, stepping back to allow the Detective to precede him. Instead of charging in as he usually did, Diefenbaker waited until Ray had hesitantly stepped across the threshold. This was his home, but Ray suddenly realized that he hated feeling so insecure and wary of everything now.

         "Welcome home, Ray," Fraser offered kindly, closing the door firmly behind them as Diefenbaker bounded for the sofa.

         Ray still hadn't moved from the hallway next to the kitchen. He was leaning heavily on his cane, favoring his bad leg, and Fraser was forced to move around him.

        "Right, so allow me to show you around," the Mountie offered. "This is the kitchen, where you spend the least amount of your time, I suspect."

        Ray awarded him a shy smile, and followed the Canadian, slowly.

        Fraser was glad his teasing had worked and quickly took advantage of the breakthrough. "This is your dining area, again another place wanton of use as we usually eat in front of the television."

         "We?" Ray countered puzzled.

         "You and I often share a meal, Ray," Fraser explained as the detective absently ran his hand over the glass tabletop. "We work odd hours when on a case and usually we just eat together here. Most often it is takeout as neither of us show any culinary talents in the kitchen."

         Ray nodded. That made sense, if they were partners and friends, he supposed they did spend time together outside work. "We…um…hang out a lot then?"

         "Yes, we are together quite often."

         "So you...ah…ya like me, then I guess," Ray surmised, shyly. "Um...we..we're like...buddies right?"

         "I like you very much, Ray," Fraser admitted, "And we are most definitely buddies."

         Fraser understood his friend's need for answers to quell his insecurities. This new Ray seemed so much more timid than the excitable and brash detective he had come to know. Of course, none of this could be easy on Ray. Fraser could fully comprehend Ray's uneasiness. The Mountie had always wondered what Ray had been like as a young man. Since the detective had seemed to revert to those youthful years it now appeared he would find out.

         Ray nodded and limped into the living area, absently moving to scratch Diefenbaker's ears as he passed the sofa.

        Fraser wondered if the detective was even aware of the automatic response. Ray recognized the coffee table, which had been his Baba's. There was an orange chair, his desk from school and his bike hanging on the wall.  Judging from the dust that dulled the chrome wheels, it would appear he didn't use it much anymore. The only other things that he recognized were a couple of pictures of his folks and one of him and Stella, but that was about it.

         The Mountie sadly watched the mixed emotions flickering across his friend's confused features.

        "This is your turtle, Stew, Ray," Fraser stated, moving toward the aquarium.

        Ray seemed to return from wherever it was he had drifted off to and moved to crouch next to the glass. "Stew?" he grinned.

         "A private joke between you and your father I believe," Fraser explained. "I have never understood it myself but, there you are."

        Ray stood, unsteadily and Fraser immediately moved to assist him. Ray shied away from him, quickly found his bearings, and propped his cane against the glass. He opened the lid of the aquarium and lifted the turtle out, inspecting it fondly.

         Ray almost smiled. "I like turtles," he commented as he traced the markings on the animal's back.

         "Yes I know," Fraser smiled, indulgently. "You like them very much."

         Ray scowled and shot him a suspicious look. "Know everything about me, do ya?" he challenged.

         Fraser's smile faltered. "Of course not, Ray," he denied. "However, we have spent a good deal of time together and we have come to know certain things…"

         "It's okay," Ray sighed letting Fraser off the hook. "I suppose I get dat, just…takes gettin' used to. I never had a lot of friends and…" Ray changed the subject quickly and Fraser lost whatever his friend was about to say. "Ya know why I like turtles?"

        Fraser shook his head. "No, Ray," he replied, "but I would be interested if you care to tell me."

        "Ya ever here the story of the Tortoise and the Hare."

         "Why yes, Ray," Fraser confirmed. "I read it when I was a boy. My grandparents were librarians, well known throughout the Territories and so I had a wide variety of literature to choose from…"

         "Fraser?"

         "Yes Ray?"

         "Ya talk a lot don't ya?"

         "You have made that observation before, Ray," Fraser replied wryly and Ray smiled. "Forgive me for going on. Do continue with your story."

        Ray shrugged and placed Stew back into the aquarium and closed the lid. "It was my favorite story growin' up," he explained as he continued to watch the turtle crawl across and come to rest half inside his water dish. "My Mum used to read it to me all the time and I used ta read it to Baba, because she didn't know any English. Dad taught me the words I needed so I could tell her the story in Polish. I just sorta picked up the rest bein' around her a lot I guess."

        Ray paused, lost in the past and thoughts of his grandmother. He shook off the sudden sadness that engulfed him and continued. "Anyway, she used to say I was like the turtle, ya know ‘slow and steady wins the race’." He smirked. "I wasn't da brightest kid growin' up, had a real hard time concentratin' and gettin' my work done so I had to work twice as hard as everyone else."

         "ADD," Fraser commented to himself and Ray glanced back at him.

         "Huh?"

         "Attention Deficit Disorder," Fraser supplied readily. "Physicians and Psychologists claim it has been affecting children for years and they are only now starting to recognize it."

         "You sayin' I got some kinda disease, Fraser?" Ray challenged.

         Fraser quickly shook his head. "Not at all, Ray. ADD affects over a third of the children in the world. It usually refers to a chemical imbalance in the brain that makes concentration or processing information more difficult for some. It's very similar to dyslexia."

         "Hmmm," Ray replied. "I dunno about that AD…T whatever crap, Dad said it was just cause I was not tryin' hard enough. People said I was too stupid ta learn."

         "You are not stupid, Ray," Fraser denied firmly. "You are one of the most intelligent people I know."

        Ray smirked. "Yah, sure.  That's why I'm gonna need a pocket dictionary to figure out what da hell you're sayin' half the time." He shook his head. "You must be some kinda genius or somethin'."

         "A good vocabulary has nothing to do with a person's intelligence, Ray," Fraser informed, mentally reminding himself to try to be more flexible in his language. There was no sense in confusing Ray more than he already was.

         "Um...yah, so…I'm kinda tired, Fraser," he commented, retrieving his cane and trying to forget about the current aches in his leg and ribcage.

         "Oh!" Fraser exclaimed, definitely. "Of course, Ray. Please forgive me, your bedroom is through there."

          "Everyone in Canada as polite as you, Fraser?"

         "I would like to think so, but truthfully it is a remote possibility, Ray," the Mountie sighed.

         Ray tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment, considering the Mountie's words.  He moved slowly through the open door to the bedroom, wincing slightly as he settled on the bed. Bracing his cane against the nightstand, he started to pull his legs up.

          Fraser moved quickly to help, but Ray waved him away.

         "I'm not an invalid," the blond snapped.

         Fraser pulled away contritely and struck a stationary pose. The detective certainly had the right to be a little grumpy considering everything that had happened in the last few days. Fraser wouldn't allow his friend's anger to affect him. He was surprised when Ray quickly apologized.

        "I…I'm sorry I don't mean ta snap I just…" Ray shrugged. "I like doin' things on my own."

         Fraser nodded in understanding, still a little curious about the change in his friend over the last couple of days. Certainly, Ray was the first to admit he was wrong about things that were important, but he rarely apologized for his remarks. According to his partner, Ray never knew what was going to come out of his mouth anyway so why apologize for it. Fraser had always accepted that.

         "Would you like something for the pain, Ray?" he suggested kindly.

        Ray shook his head. "I'm just tired," he murmured. His eyes started to drift closed, only to pop open again almost immediately. "Um…I…ya can go now, Fraser. I'll be okay alone."

         "Certainly, Ray," Fraser agreed. "I need to take Diefenbaker for a walk and when we return perhaps we…"

         "Do ya live here too, Fraser?" Ray questioned, suddenly.

         Fraser shook his head. "No, Ray, this is your apartment. I live at the Canadian Consulate."

         "Then ya don't gotta baby-sit me," the detective growled. "Go do…whatever it is a Mountie does in Chicago."

        After a moment's hesitation Fraser moved over to the bed and sat next to his partner. "I am doing just that, Ray," he stated quietly. "This particular Mountie is doing exactly what he usually does; spending time with his partner."

         Ray's gaze locked with his for a long intense moment. Maybe he had more than he thought when he confirmed his new life with Stella. A vision of them embracing filtered through his memory and he tilted his head, curious. The Mountie didn't seem the touchy-feely type. Despite his obvious concern, Fraser seemed pretty stiff and remote; well except for when Ray lost his temper at the hospital, then Ray had pushed away the Canadian's offer of comfort. Ray wondered how much it cost Fraser to have willingly initiated the embrace; perhaps Ray had hurt him by deflecting it.

         Ray looked away first. "I'll be okay," he assured softly, touched by either the memory or the Canadian's earnest expression. "I...I'm not good company right now is all I..." He didn't want to admit that he was still torn up about him and Stella.

         "I am sure you will be okay, Ray," Fraser confirmed without hesitation. "However you…you are my friend, whether you remember that friendship or not. I cannot just stop caring about you, Ray. I will not intrude on your privacy or ask you to do anything you do not wish to do, but you should not be alone during this confusing time."

        Ray finally raised his eyes to meet the Mountie's gaze. "I…I guess we must be pretty good buddies, huh?" he found himself asking. Despite the small smile Fraser allowed him, Ray caught the sadness in the Mountie's eyes at their current circumstance.

         "We are more than just friends, Ray," he offered, kindly. "We are partners."

         Ray frowned, suddenly. "We're not…um…we ain't like…datin' or anythin' are we?" He was pretty sure he was still strictly heterosexual, but with everything else changing, especially his divorce from Stella, he couldn't be positive of anything anymore. Besides, he'd experimented a little with other guys, when he was younger, that was pretty normal though. It was never anything heavy and Ray found it just didn't butter his muffin, he was all about women when it came to sex.

         "Oh no, Ray," Fraser replied, distressed that Ray would be so concerned. "Nothing like that, we are just very good friends. I assure you, there is nothing sexual between us."

        Ray relaxed slightly. "Okay just…um…checkin'. I...I mean I had a friend in college that was gay and he…well him and his…guy knew each other real well…obviously…like…I guess like you seem ta know me and…."Ray grimaced as he realized he was making no sense whatsoever. " W…what I'm tryin' ta say is…well I 'm pretty sure I only like women, well...really just Stella, but... y'know but…well a...a lot has changed. I don't know as much as I thought anymore."

         "Understood," Fraser returned, equally relieved.

        Ray was grateful the Mountie had caught on.  He wasn't sure if he wanted to try explaining that again.

        "Ray?"

        "Yes?"

        "May I ask, why did you refer to me as Sir at the hospital?"

        Ray shrugged. "Oh, habit," he replied easily. "My Dad always taught me to be respectful of your elder's if ya don't know them well and..." He paused. "Um...not that you're really old...I mean maybe not quite...I'm older too, I guess I just..."

        Fraser stared at him surprised, and then quickly schooled his features to hide his alarm. He had forgotten that Ray would still be thinking he was only in his twenties. He sadly realized that this would indeed be a hardship, for although they were only a year or so apart in age, the Mountie suddenly felt much Ray's senior.

        "Ray, I am only thirty-four," Fraser explained, gently. "You're actually a year and a half older than me."

        Ray stared at him, surprised. "Imagine dat," he replied, quietly. "A year and a half, huh? I...I...I guess you should be callin' me sir, then."

        Fraser smirked.

        I...don't feel that...that old, Fraser," Ray admitted, confused.

        Fraser nodded. "I know, Ray," he acknowledged. "It's all right. I was just curious. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

        Silence fell between them again and Fraser watched Ray trace the pattern of his bedspread with his finger tips.

        "Ray?"

       The detective glanced up.  "Hmmm?"

        "May Diefenbaker and I return then, to stay with you?"

        Ray hesitated then nodded, shyly. "Yah, I...I guess you can do dat," he agreed, softly. "K...keep me from gettin' lost around here, I guess."

        Fraser smiled, relieved that Ray could at least have a sense of humor about his current predicament. "Excellent," He rose from the bed. "Perhaps, you should take a nap or reacquaint yourself with the apartment if you prefer…"

         "I…I think I'll just stay here fer now, buddy." Ray decided, addressing Fraser in the familiar term without being fully aware of it. He watched as the happiness spread across the Mountie's usually passive features.

         "Very good, Ray," Fraser agreed. "Dief and I will return shortly and I shall pick up something for lunch.  How would that be?"

         "Sure, Fraser," Ray agreed. "Whatever."

        The Mountie nodded with pleasure and went to fetch Diefenbaker.
 

         Ray had just started to drift off when a rising panic rose within him and forced his eyes open once more. He'd had a problem sleeping the past couple of days, ever since he first work up in the hospital really. He couldn't seem to get past his irrational fear that if he actually allowed himself to sleep deeply he would wake up and not remember anything at all, not even his own name. It was silly, he understood that, but he couldn't help feeling it just the same.

         Releasing a soft groan, Ray slowly sat up and cradled his sore ribs. He sat on the edge of the bed trying to catch his breath. He felt worse now than he had at the hospital. It seemed like whenever he lay down it hurt twice as badly when he tried to move again. His body was one giant throbbing ache and he finally understood why some people compared their injuries to being run over by a truck.

         He pulled open the drawer of the bed side table next to him, curious to see what was inside. It felt like he was snooping, but that couldn't be right. How could he snoop through his own things? So what if he didn't remember they were his, that didn't make looking wrong. He rummaged idly through the miscellaneous junk inside: a couple of paperbacks, some matchbooks, half a dozen different business cards and a familiar looking ring box.

         Reaching for the box with a trembling hand, he pulled it from the drawer. He lifted the lid to stare down at the simple gold band that was his wedding ring. After a long pause, he pulled it from the box and slipped the ring on his finger. It made him feel better, not so naked. Stella had said they were no longer together, but he still felt married and he couldn't change that. He regretted being so harsh with her at the hospital, it wasn't her fault he couldn't remember.

         Tossing the box back inside, Ray shut the drawer and turned his attention to the cabinet below. It was locked and he remembered the keys Fraser had given him to drive the car. The Mountie must have taken them with him, because they weren't in Ray's pocket anymore. He shrugged and decided he'd look in it later.

         His attention was drawn to the decoration hanging in the window, some sort of round wooden thing with a feather hanging from it. It was kind of pretty, but not exactly his thing. He stood carefully, grabbed his cane and limped back out to the living room. He paused by the desk to look over the photographs sitting atop it. There was a very nice one of him and the Mountie, although Ray couldn't tell where it had been taken, and a couple of his folks and one of his Grandmother. Another picture was of him and Stella. He was wearing a policeman's uniform, perhaps his graduation from the academy? There wasn't a wedding photo, that concerned him. Had Stella taken all the pictures of them when she left?

         Ray shook his head and reaching for the one photo he had with both of them. He stared at it long and hard, trying to see himself as the cop in the picture. He couldn't. Sure, he'd always thought about being a cop, ever since that deal in the bank with Ellery, but he never really considered it an attainable goal. He used to joke with Stella, since she was going to be a lawyer, that they would make a good team.  But his father wanted him to go to college and get a degree. Well, apparently he changed his mind at some point and achieved the courage he needed to chase his dream. He couldn’t help but wondered how his father had felt about him becoming a cop.

         Suddenly, the full scope of what he was forced to deal with hit him and he started shaking violently. The photograph slipped from his trembling hands and landed face down on the carpet, but luckily didn't break. He frantically searched for the bathroom as nausea welled up inside him and threatened to claim his last remnants of control. He barely made it to the commode before he started vomiting.

         A few minutes later, his head pounding like a jack hammer and his ribs protesting painfully from their heaving workout, Ray rose on shaky legs and reached to pull open the medicine cabinet above the sink. He searched frantically for a bottle of aspirin, spilling half the contents in the ceramic basin below, as he squinted against the pain of his head and tried to read the bottles of medication.

         "Advil?" he growled, his eyes refusing to focus enough to read more than the large script on one of the bottles. "What the hell is dat?" The bottle joined the others, as he continued his search.

         Groaning and putting a hand to his aching head, which was steadily growing worse, he stumbled back into the bedroom. Ray knew that the doctor had prescribed something for his pain and that Fraser had picked it up at the pharmacy, so he might find something in the kitchen. He limped toward the door of the bedroom. His head and leg were on fire and he knew immediately that he would never make it that far. He tried for the bed instead.  Maybe if he could lay down again he…. His legs gave way just out of reach of the bed and he dropped painfully on his bad knee. He cried out in agony and reached for his throbbing leg.

         The pain in his head suddenly intensified, causing him to forget about his injured knee.  He felt like his skull was trying to split in six different directions at once. As he curled into a fetal position his hands moved up to grip his head tightly.  Maybe he could somehow stop the brain explosion that he was sure would be next.

         "Christ!" he whimpered, as hot salty tears spilled out from under tightly shut eyelids. "Oh God, Stell! Why aren't ya here with me.. why…?" Another anguished cry tore from his throat, as thousands of lights exploded behind his lids, threatening to pop his eyes from their sockets in a silent torture of pressure and pain. Curling into an even tighter ball, he attempted to shut himself away from the pain. "Mum! Dad! Someone… please help me! Fraser!"
 

         Fraser entered Ray's apartment a little over an hour later and set the pizza on the counter. Diefenbaker trotted inside in searched of his favorite American. Fraser pulled off his coat and draped it over the kitchen chair, before dropping his Stetson on the table.

         A soft whine from Ray's bedroom caught Fraser's attention and he hurried to investigate, shocked to find his partner curled up on the floor unconscious. The Mountie immediately knelt beside him and checked for a pulse, which thankfully was steady and strong beneath his fingers. He regarded the tear marks on Ray's face and his friend's erratic breathing

         Fraser carefully hefted his friend into his arms and placed him on the bed, cursing himself for having left him. Ray's left knee was swelling badly beneath the rough denim of his jeans, despite the wrap around it.  Fraser knew he would have to tend to it quickly. He gently shook his friend and tried to awaken him.

         "Ray? Ray? Ray!"

         "Uuuhhh," Ray groaned and his eyes fluttered open, then squeezed shut again in remembrance of the pain he had felt earlier. Luckily passing out must have helped somewhat because his headache was down to a 3.2 on the Richter scale instead of the solid five he had experienced earlier.

         "Ray, are you all right?" Fraser demanded. "Talk to me, Ray. What happened?"

         "Head…hurts," was all Ray could manage. "N…no aspirin."

         "The doctor recommended Ibuprofen, Ray," Fraser replied moving from the bed. "I'll fetch it for you."

         " 'kay," Ray agreed weakly, still keeping his eyes closed for the moment. The room seemed to move less that way.

         A minute later Fraser returned and helped Ray sit up and take the two tablets with some water.

        The detective recognized the bottle of Advil that he had passed up and groaned. "Saw dem," he croaked, "didn't know what dey were."

         Fraser frowned sympathetically, remembering the mess of toiletries and medicines he'd found in the bathroom sink. It struck him hard to realize that his partner could not even remember something as simple as a brand name medicine if it had become available after 1985. He hoped Ray's memory did return or he would have a very long, hard road of catching up.

         "I am so sorry I left you, Ray," Fraser offered, kindly. He gently pushed his partner back against the cushions and set the glass on the night table.

          Ray's eyes had opened only briefly while taking the medicine but Fraser could see that his pupils were  badly dilated in reflection of his pain.  Fraser also noticed the shiny gold band that now resided on Ray's left ring finger, but refrained from commenting. For now whatever the detective felt comfortable with was what was most important.

         Moving his hands to grasp the button of Ray's jeans, Fraser was startled when Ray's eyes popped open and he promptly slapped the Mountie's hand away.

         "What are ya doin'?" Ray demanded, still slightly dazed from his earlier attack. "Thought ya said we weren't…"

         "Your knee is swelling, Ray," Fraser stated, calmly. "We have to get these tight clothes off you, so that I can apply some ice to your knee."

         "Oh," Ray returned and tried to sit up and assist, but his dizziness prevented his fingers from grasping the button of his jeans properly.

         "Allow me, Ray," Fraser offered, brushing his partner's hand away and unfastening the denims. He rose and moved lower, so he could carefully pull the jeans off.

        Ray tried to help by lifting his hips, but the movement only put added pressure on his throbbing knee causing him to cry out.

        Fraser managed to get the jeans off without hurting his friend further and carefully started to unroll the ace bandage.

         "Ahhh...Christ!" Ray hissed, as his body tensed in an effort to deal with the pain the motion was causing.

         "Just a moment longer, Ray," Fraser soothed and quickly removed the bandage completely. He hid his distress at the blackened, bruised area that was swollen to twice the size of Ray's other knee. "Let me get some ice for that, I'll be right back."

         "Sure, okay," Ray agreed wearily. He pulled a pillow from the other side of the bed and placed it across his hips modestly, then waved the Mountie off.

          Although he was wearing underwear, Ray felt foolish to be half-naked in front of the Canadian. It seemed to only increase his feelings of helplessness and frustration. He was lucky to have such a caring friend, he supposed, even if he didn't remember him. Guilt seized him again and he closed his eyes, disturbed at the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

        Ray wanted to remember, or he wanted it to be a dream, one or the other. He was thirty-six, well, almost. How the hell did someone, who only remembered the past twenty two years, adjust to suddenly being thirteen years older?

         "Here we are," Fraser informed returning and placing the ice pack on Ray's knee.  It wasn’t a pleasant sight as it was bruised all the way around.  "We may have to purchase one of those ice wraps, Ray.  It would probably be more efficient."

         "Probably," Ray agreed dully, having no clue what an ice wrap was.

        Fraser glanced up at him concerned. "Are you hungry?" he inquired, suddenly. "I picked up a pizza if you are, pineapple and ham."

        Ray frowned. "Dat's a queer combination," he said.

        Fraser's eye brows rose. "It.…it's usually your favorite, Ray," he managed startled. "I could find something else if you prefer…."

         "Nah, I'll try it," Ray replied, politely. "Can…would you…Do I have any shorts or anything that I can wear?"

        Fraser suddenly realized his friend's embarrassment at his lack of clothing and quickly nodded. "I believe so, Ray," he admitted and rose to sort through the detective's dresser. "Aha! Here we are." He retrieved a pair of blue and gray shorts and handed them to Ray.

        The slim detective carefully slipped into them, immediately feeling less exposed.

         Fraser helped his friend out to the sofa and braced Ray foot up on the coffee table, so he could still apply the ice to his swollen knee. The Mountie then returned to the kitchen to retrieve their dinner and drinks.

        Diefenbaker shuffled up to Ray and sat staring at him, just out of reach, as though still wary of spooking him. After a moment, Ray tentatively held out his hand toward the wolf. Diefenbaker immediately moved closer and nuzzled Ray's hand, licking his fingers affectionately.

         "Hi there," Ray greeted the wolf, softly.

        Fraser smiled and collected a couple of plates from the cupboard as Ray continued to speak to Diefenbaker.

        "It's okay, I ain't scared of ya anymore. You're so pretty."

        Fraser returned to the living room and found Ray running his fingers gently over the wolf's head.

        "I had a dog once," Ray admitted, not noticing Fraser, his attention still on the wolf. "But my dog died. He was nothin' like you though, not near as pretty, he was just a mutt."

         "Please don't offer him compliments," Fraser sighed, in mock annoyance, as he set the pie box, plates and sodas on the coffee table. "He's already quite insufferable."

         "Aw, he's still cool though," Ray chuckled, finally turning his attention to their meal. "What was his name again?"

        "Diefenbaker," Fraser informed, settling beside his partner. "You usually call him Dief."

        "Long name for a dog...wolf, whatever," Ray commented, accepting the plate of pizza Fraser offered him and biting into the slice. He smiled. "Pretty good, different. Who'd ever have thought a puttin' pineapple on pizza?"

         "I've no idea, Ray," Fraser insisted, calmly. "You were the one that introduced me to such a combination, not that I had a vast knowledge of pizza per say. We did not have fast food items where I grew up."

         "What, ya mean like no McDonalds or burger shops?" Ray inquired, surprised.

        Fraser shook his head. "I grew up in the Northwest Territories and parts of the Yukon, a very cold and isolated area of Canada. We hunted or fished for most of our food."

         "That would suck!" Ray grinned, shivering slightly at the idea. "My Mum didn't allow a whole lot of junk food growin' up, the occasional hamburger or pizza is all. We usually just ate whatever she made.  When I hit high school I got ta eat what all the other kids did." He shook his head. "Don't know what I'd do without junk food."

         "You do tend to consume vast amounts of it, Ray," Fraser teased.

         Ray frowned and felt heat sting his cheeks.  He dropped his slice of pizza back onto the plate. "I got a high metabolism," he defended quietly. "I try to gain weight so I'm not so skinny but…" he shrugged. "It burns off too fast I guess."

         "Ray, I never meant that as a criticism," Fraser assured quickly, distressed that he might have offended his friend. Usually, Ray just laughed when the Mountie teased or scolded. "I was only teasing."

         "Yah…I…I know," Ray returned quietly, picking at a piece of pineapple. "I…I'm just kinda sensitive about stuff like that.  I get teased a lot about bein' so skinny and stuff and I guess it bothers me, even when I try not to let it." He shrugged again. "I mean it's stupid to get worked up over it but…y'know ya hear somethin' often enough ya start ta believe it."

         "Please forgive me, Ray," Fraser offered, remorsefully. "I will not tease you again."

         "Oh, now don't go gettin' all weird on me," Ray sighed. "I don't mind ya teasin' me, you're supposed ta be my friend and…friends do dat I guess. I never had a whole lot a friends to be a judge… Just Stella…and Joe, apparently I don't see him anymore…" He paused and Fraser watched the pain enter his eyes. "Or Stella either I guess."

         "I never meant to upset you, Ray," Fraser assured helplessly, cursing himself for opening his big mouth.

          Ray was the one who had wormed his way past the Mountie's rigid defenses enough that Fraser could joke openly with the detective. Before his injuries, Ray would always just tease him back. Now it seemed their special camaraderie would have to readjust, until Ray either remembered or was more trusting of him.

         "So…" Ray sighed, changing the subject and taking another bite of his pizza. "What…um…what kinda stuff do we do…together?"

         "Aside from chasing criminals?" Fraser inquired.

        Ray only smirked and nodded.

        "Well, we occasionally go to a movie or we rent videos to watch here," Fraser replied. "We eat a lot of take out since neither of us can cook very well…"

         "I can cook!" Ray defended, quickly.

         "You can?" Fraser couldn't hide his surprise.  "You never have. You said you hate to cook and we always order out so I assumed..."

         "Well, I dunno about hatin' it," Ray shrugged, "but I worked part time as a short order cook in high school.  It ain't gourmet cuisine or anything, but I can make a decent omelet or pasta salad." He took a sip of his soda, delighted that he had touched on something that the Mountie didn't know about him.  It gave him back a little piece of control that he seemed to have lost in his life.

         "I cooked a lot with my Mum too, mostly polish dishes," Ray continued grinning. "Stell can't cook. She always had people to do that fer her, so when I asked her ta marry me last year…," He paused as he realized it wasn't last year but almost fifteen years ago that he and Stella had exchanged their vows.  He paled slightly.

         "Ray?" Fraser offered, but the detective shook it off and tried to remember what he was saying.

         "Um…so anyway Stell can't cook and I figured we'd starve if one of us didn't know at least how ta make toast or somethin' y'know."

         "So you did the cooking in your marriage?" Fraser inquired and immediately regretted bringing up the M word as Kowalski paled a second time, his fingers absently fidgeting with his wedding band.

         "Yah, I did most of it, I think...probably," he admitted, his voice much softer then before and Fraser could hear his anguish. "We're...we are...were newlyweds so it's it was y'know, a novelty, I guess."

         A silence grew between them, Fraser afraid to say anything further, in case he upset the blond more and Ray was lost in his own private thoughts. Finally, Fraser rose. "Would you care for some music, Ray?" That always lifted his partner's spirit.

         Ray glanced up at him startled. "Sure," he agreed. "What kinda music ya got, Fraser?"

         "You have a wide selection," Fraser emphasized, as he moved to the stereo and selecting a handful of CD's and presented them to his partner.

        Ray stared at them confused. "What are these, like 45's or somethin'?"

         "They are similar to records, yes," Fraser admitted.  He was again appalled that he would have to explain even something this simple to his friend. The friend who had been the one to explain the technology to the Mountie originally. He tried to remember what Ray had told him. Finally, he finished what, he had hoped, was a straightforward explanation of the CD's, and not to much over Ray's head.

        The detective carefully, set his ice pack aside and rose to limp over to the stereo. Most of the music was unfamiliar, but some of it he recognized.  He chose the sound track to Saturday Night Fever. "Um… where's the turn table?" he asked glancing back at Fraser.

         "Pardon?" Fraser returned confused, as he moved to stand beside his friend.

        Ray offered him a mild, slightly frustrated glare and made circling gestures with his free hand. "Fer the record, ya know? The turntable and needle...Ya put the record on the turntable and the needle on the arm makes it play?"

         "Oh!" Fraser recalled and lifted the top of the stereo, showing six small circles. "Just place it in one of the player's, Ray."

        The detective gazed at it suspiciously then set the disk in one of the circles. "What are the others for?" he inquired tracing one of the empty holders.

        Fraser pulled a couple of other CD's out of their cases and placed them inside. "You can play up to six at a time, that way you don't have to keep changing the discs at the end of each selection."

         Fraser pressed play and observed the way Ray watched one of the discs disappear under the arm of the player before music piped loudly through the room, startling the detective into stepping back. Fraser quickly adjusted the volume and lowered the dust cover on the player, then guided Ray back to the sofa.
 

        Ray sighed and turned over as the final vestiges of sleep started to fade away. He allowed his eyes to slip open and was startled to find his Mother peering down at him.

        "Mum?" he asked, disoriented.

        "You're hungry aren't you?" Barbara decided and before Ray could tell her different. "I knew it." She hurried off to fix him something in the kitchen.

        Ray realized he was laying on the sofa in the living room and he tried to remember when he had
fallen asleep. There was an afghan draped over him and Diefenbaker was stretched out directly beside
the sofa, so that Ray could drop his hand and stroke the animal. He started to stretch and immediately
regretted it as his sensitive body protested. He released a painful groan.

        Damien was beside him, instantly. "Now, Son, you just stay there, don't move around too much. Your Mum and me will fetch what you need."

        Ray grimaced and struggled to sit up anyway, glad for his father's assistance. "Ya...ya can't fetch  this, Dad," he smirked, painfully. "I have to go to the bathroom."

        "Oh well," Damien chuckled. "In dat case let me give you a hand."

        "A new body would do me better," Ray retorted as he carefully stepped over Diefenbaker and allowed himself to be pulled upright. His leg felt twice as painful today and he couldn't put any weight on it at all hardly. His ribs were doing better, but they protested loudly whenever Ray sat upright or stood up from a sitting position. "When'd you guys get here? Where's...um..." What was his name again? Oh yah. "Fraser? Where's Fraser?"

        "He had to go to work, Son," Damien explained as Ray placed an arm across his father's shoulders and the older man helped support him across the room. "He'll be back later."

        "I slept through 'till morning?" Ray asked, appalled as they reached the bedroom. "I don't even remember falling asleep."

        "You've had a rough couple of days, Raymond," Damien insisted as he shoved open the bathroom door and Ray leaned on the sink, out of breath. "You okay, Son?"

        "Feel...like I've run a marathon," he gasped grinning. "I've never been dis sore."

        "Not even when you got thrown from that horse at your Uncle Ron's?" Damien teased.

        Ray chuckled in remembrance as he moved to the toilet, slowly. "Okay, okay maybe that one comes close," he admitted.

        "Holler when you're done, Raymond," Damien insisted, closing the door to give Ray privacy.

        Ray took care of what he needed to do, then moved to the sink and stared down at his hands. He slowly started to unravel the fresh gauze that Fraser had wrapped his hands in yesterday. His knuckles were already starting to heal, the skin around them was bruised and scrapped but they didn't look to bad overall. He set the gauze on the back of the toilet and carefully washed his hands. He splashed some water on his face as well, then stared at his reflection.

        Ray traced the new lines that seemed to crease his face. He had gained a little more weight, than he
remembered having, and he was pleased it had mostly turned to muscle. He still considered himself too
skinny, but he was nothing like the gangly twenty two year old he once was, who could blow away in a
stiff wind. He caressed his jaw, which seemed firmer and thicker than he remembered, rough with a few
day's stubble. He'd always stayed clean shaven for Stella, she insisted on his skin being smooth when they kissed. Stella, how had he messed up with her? Why had they grown apart? He missed her so much.

        Yesterday, after a few hours in therapy, Ray had been exhausted by the time Fraser had brought
him back to the apartment. He'd retired early, just a little after six in the evening and tried to sleep.
However, he'd tossed and turned all night, unused to sleeping alone. The apartment was too quiet without the sound of Stella's soft little sighs as she slept, or the gentle clicking of the small over head fan that she
insisted they leave on to circulate the air in their room. Ray's new bedroom didn't have a ceiling fan, just a small air conditioner in the window.

        Finally, Ray had given up trying and he had pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt he found in the dresser of the bedroom. They fit, so he assumed they were his. He'd grabbed his cane and limped out to the living room, forgetting about Fraser and the wolf, who were sleeping on the floor by the window on some kind of padded bag.

        Ray had offered to let the Mountie and wolf use the bed, since he couldn't, but Fraser graciously declined and rose to keep Ray company. They had finished off the remainder of the pizza, played a couple of games of cards, and then settled down to watch a program that Ray had never seen before, but found very interesting.

        Ray must have fallen asleep some time after that and Fraser had covered him with the blanket. Ray hadn't heard his parent's arrive, or the Mountie leave, but he was touched Fraser had left the wolf for company.

        "Raymond?" his father called through the closed door. "You okay, Son?"

        Ray glanced toward Damien's voice then back at his reflection. He reached for his razor. "Be out in a minute, Dad."

        Ray stubbornly refused his father's assistance back to the living area.

        Damien didn't comment on the fact that Ray had left his knuckles unwrapped. He followed his son's slow progress to the kitchen table as Barbara set out the meal of eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, coffee and toast on the table.

        Ray glanced at the amount of peanut butter lathered on the two slices of bread and smirked.

        "For your memory," Barbara insisted as she set a small glass of juice next to his plate as well. "It's good for you, you said so, now eat it all, Stanley."

        "Yes, ma'am," Ray replied, obediently and slowly began to eat. His stomach hadn't been the best the last couple of days, but he would try to eat for her sake.

        His parents settled at the table and began their meal, just as the phone rang. Both noticed Ray did not even raise his head from his food to acknowledge the call, nor did he move to answer it.

        "You want me to get that, Raymond?" Damien asked, rising.

        Ray glanced up startled. "Um...sure, I guess." he agreed, not thinking to answer the phone himself. He still wasn't used to this being his place. The Mountie had answered the phone when he was here.

        Damien picked up the cordless receiver and greeted the caller. He frowned for a moment before walking over to the table and offering it to Ray. "It's Stella, son," he warned. "You want me to tell her you're sleeping?"

        Ray stared at the instrument for a long moment before wiping his suddenly moist palms on his sweat pants and reaching for the receiver. "H...hello?"

        "Ray?" Stella's soft voice inquired.

         Ray closed his eyes. "Yah, it...it's me, Stell," he replied, quietly. "I...I'm sorry I yelled at ya at the hospital the...da udder day I...things are...they're all...everything just seems so...wrong."

        "I know, Ray," Stella said gently. "I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you sooner, I was just trying to protect you."

        "I...I know," Ray admitted, glancing at the disapproving frown on his father, who had resumed his seat at the table. "Stella I...could...I know we can't...but maybe you could...just...um, see me sometime, maybe, could I see you?"

        "How about Saturday, Ray?" Stella offered. "I've cleared my calendar and we can spend the day together. Would you like that."

        "Yes," Ray agreed. "I...I'd like dat, Stell. I'd love that really."

        "I'll be by around nine on Saturday, then," Stella decided. "Will you be up to moving about?"

        Ray wasn't sure, if today was any indication, but he didn't want to miss this opportunity. He missed Stella so much. "I...I don't know," he confessed truthfully. "I'm pretty sore still, but...if not we could...we could just hang out here right and...and talk?"

        "Whatever you want, Ray," Stella agreed. "I have to go, lover. I'll see you soon, okay?"

        "O...okay, Stella," Ray returned readily. "See you Saturday." He handed the phone back to his father, unsure how to disconnect it, and returned to his meal.

        Ray could feel his parent's eyes on him and knew that he should explain, but just didn't want to. Besides, what was so strange about him and Stella getting together? They were married...He paused. Oh right, they weren't anymore. That's why his folks looked so worried.

        "How are yer eggs, Stanley?" Barbara Kowalski asked, breaking the silence.

        "Good, Mum," he assured her. "Perfect, really. Just right."

        Barbara reached across the table and patted his hand, affectionately.
 
 

            Ray heard the knock at the apartment door and moved from the bedroom to answer it. He had wanted to look his best for Stella's visit, but he didn't have the selection of clothes he once did. It seemed he decided to go more casual now that he was no longer with his wife; possibly because there was no one to dress up for.

        He settled on what looked to be a fairly new pair of blue denims, a long sleeve, white and blue pinstriped shirt, and his biker boots. His hair was still damp from the shower and lay slicked back from his forehead, to dry on its own. Ray wasn't sure how else to style the layered cut, so he just left it alone. He also wore his glasses and had remembered to remove his wedding ring, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

        "Hi," Stella greeted, smiling when Ray finally opened the door.

        The remainder of her words caught in her throat as she stared at him, surprised. Ray looked so much like her old Ray, the young man she grew up with. Stella thought he had gotten even better looking as he grew older, and she had liked what he had started doing with his hair, but looking at him now threw her back into the past. Stella always thought he looked so handsome and enlightened in his glasses, despite their thick black rims.
 
 

        "Hi," Ray returned, shyly, and opened the door further for her to enter. "I...you look great, Stella."

        Stella hid her shock and smiled again, before stepping inside. "You look....great too, Ray."

        Ray was nervous and trying not to appear too eager, as he closed the door and followed her into the living area. His leg was doing much better today, so he was not bothering with the cane. "Um...ya...ya want something to drink?"

        "No," Stella returned, calmly. She was nervous too, but she hoped that it didn't show. "I thought we might go to the zoo, if you're up to it. They have a lot of new attractions and we could stop for lunch somewhere afterwards."

        Ray nodded, agreeably. "Sure, yah, that'd be great, Stella," he assured. "I like the zoo, we...well you always did too, so I guess...I guess you still do." He frowned, this was not going well. "I...I mean..."

        Stella stepped up to him and placed a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Ray," she assured. "I know this is...difficult and confusing." She pasted a smile on her face again. "We'll just pretend we're two friends on a day's outing. Don't worry so much about anything else, okay?"

        Ray nodded, wondering if she really expected him to treat her as just a friend. Already he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her. "I...I'll try," he agreed.

        "Then let's go," Stella offered, moving back toward the door and watching him follow.

        They arrived at the zoo less than thirty minutes later, deciding to take the GTO so Ray could drive.
Stella had always preferred him to drive whenever they went anywhere. They walked through the exhibits and explored the different species that resided there. Ray made Stella laugh a few times, commenting that
some of the animals reminded him of his relatives, especially the baboons. Stella told him a little more
about her job and what she did. They also talked over old times, remembering other times when they had
been to the zoo and making comparisons to what had changed since then.

        They stopped for something cold to drink at one of the stands and Ray paid for two lemonades.
He was startled at the price.

        Stella laughed and told him that inflation was rampant everywhere. .

        Ray adjusted his glasses. "Stell?" he asked, as they headed toward the Big Cat's area.

        Stella stopped sucking on her straw to glance at him. "Hmmm?"

        "C...can I hold yer hand?"

        Stella smiled, transferred her cup to her left hand and offered him her right. "Sure," she agreed. Whatever Ray needed to make himself more comfortable was all that was important right now.

        Ray cast her a brilliant smile and folded his fingers through hers. Ahh, that was better, that felt right. "Thanks."

        Stella nodded.

        "Do you remember when we had that picnic last forth..." Ray paused and pulled at his ear. "Well, I guess it was forth of July a few years ago, though."

        Stella squeezed his hand, aware of which event he was speaking of. "Of course I remember," she assured. "You told me there was a perfect spot to view the fireworks from, just across the river. Only the fireworks disturbed a flock of Egrets and gulls on the little sandbar between us and the celebration."

        Ray chuckled. "You started screamin' and lookin' for cover, when there wasn't anywhere ta go!"

        Stella laughed and tried to look indignant. "Well, really, Ray," she defended. "There must have been a thousand damn birds flying over us because of that stupid fireworks show, it was like something out of Alfred Hitchcock." She giggled. "I just knew I was going to be covered in bird droppings!"

        "They'd never dare drop on you, sweetheart," Ray assured grinning. "And risk the wrath of The Stella, how stupid would dat be?"

        Stella chuckled. "Well, they're lucky they didn't," she confirmed. "You were no help at all! You just lay there laughing your skinny ass off!"

        "What was I supposed to do?" Ray defended, affectionately. "Shield ya with my body, so they only shit on me?"

        "It would have been the gentleman thing to do," Stella scoffed, her eyes twinkling merrily. She knew Ray would always defend her when it was important. He'd already put his own life at risk to protect her. It saddened her that he no longer remembered that.

        "Ya wouldn't stay still long enough fer me to catch ya," Ray laughed. "You were jumping around like someone had dropped ants in yer pants." He grinned. "Besides, yer screamin' hurt my ears-I couldn't have gotten close even if I wanted to, without goin' deaf." He adjusted his glasses, again. "Bad enough I'm blind now."

       Stella nudged him playfully with her elbow. "You're impossible!"

        Ray nodded. "Ya already knew dat," he decided, taking a sip of his drink and capturing some of the ice to crunch in his mouth. "Mum warned you before we even got married."

        Stella smirked. She'd forgotten that particular habit of his. Of course, as their bickering hit a
crescendo, Stella had wanted something to pick at Ray about and she told him she couldn't stand him
chewing ice. Ray never did it around her after. The fact that he had forgotten her words made her feel
a little less guilty, and she lay her head against his shoulder, affectionately.

        "I should have listened more carefully," she teased. She immediately regretted her words as pain
flickered across Ray's handsome features. "I'm sorry, Ray."

        Ray shook his head and quickly dispelled his distress. He forced a smile to his lips. "I think dis is the last exibit. Where do you want to get lunch?"

        Stella allowed the change in topic. "Mario's?" she suggested, knowing it had always been one of
Ray's favorites and the old-style Italian restaurant had not changed very much over the years, so it would
seem familiar to him.

        "Sounds good," Ray agreed as they stopped to look at large white tiger, pacing back and forth in his
cage.  Ray released Stella's hand and leaned against the railing, watching the animal, sadly. "Kinda sucks to be locked in, doesn't it big guy?" he sympathized. "Ya don't belong in dat small cage, you should be free to run and hunt."

        Stella regarded Ray, quietly. Ray had always had a natural empathy with animals, he believed they should be free to do what God intended them to do. The one pet he ever allowed himself was a dog when he was very young. The animal followed Ray home one day and the Kowalski's adopted the mutt as part of their family. Ray had named the dog Shadow, because he was never far from Ray's side. The dog was never tied up or put in a pen, it was never needed because the animal followed Ray devotedly.

        When Shadow had followed Ray to Stella's one day, he was killed by a speeding driver that would have hit Ray if not for the dog pushing his master out of the way. Ray never wanted another dog. A few years ago, before she died, Ray's grandmother had given Ray a pet turtle, which Stella believed her ex-husband still had in an aquarium at his apartment. That was the only other pet Ray had allowed himself to have.
 
        "There's a fair in town," Stella informed, wrapping her arm through Ray's and trying to pull him out of his melancholy mood. "How about we go after we eat? I haven't been on any rides in a long time and you could win me a stuffed animal?"

        Ray returned from wherever his thoughts had taken him, and smiled down at her. "Or you could win me one," he teased, suggestively. "You were always better at throwin' things than me."

        Stella giggled and lay her head against his shoulder again. "How about we each try and see who wins a prize first?"

        Ray couldn't help himself, he turned to face her and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "You're better than any prize I'll ever win, Stell."

        Stella's heart turned over in her chest. God she missed him so much, missed the man he used to be, the man he was now. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "That's sweet," she admitted, kissing him briefly on the lips. "But I still want a stuffed bear."

        Ray laughed and hugged her, hard. "Yer wish is my command," he agreed and they continued, arm and arm, through the park.

         "Ray! Benton!" Elaine called, spotting the detective and Mountie coming toward her. "How are you guys doing?" She enveloped Ray in an enthusiastic hug, despite the fact that she was still in uniform. She immediately felt the man stiffen against her and quickly stepped back. "What's wrong with you?"

         "Elaine," Fraser began: noticing that Ray had put the Mountie between himself and the eager policewoman.  It was something his partner seemed inclined to do often, ever since Fraser had started taking him outside the apartment. "Ray was in an accident a couple of weeks ago. He is suffering from partial amnesia. He doesn't remember being a police officer or the people associated with his job."

        So far Fraser had not attempted to take Ray to the station, he had not wanted to push. So the two friends, as well as Stella on occasion, spent their time touring Chicago and helping Ray discover all that was changed and also what had remained the same after so many years.

         "Oh my God!" Elaine gasped and cast a sympathetic look toward the blond.  It only served to increase Ray's discomfort. "I'm sorry Ray. I didn't mean to…are you okay, no…no physical injuries?"

        Ray nodded but didn't speak, unable to respond vocally. He hated this part. Every time he met someone he wondered if he was supposed to know them, or if they were strangers. He never knew whether they had been friends, enemies, or something else all together. Either way he never knew how to react. He felt like locking himself in his apartment and never coming out. It would certainly make things easier, but Fraser and Stella seemed bent on not allowing him to curl up inside himself.

        He and Stella were getting along well, much the way Ray remembered they had, only Stella was quick to keep their relationship platonic. That was hard for Ray, because he loved her so much and still though of her as his wife, but he was learning to adjust. She would remain in his life, as his friend, if Ray didn't push. Ray felt it unfair that he was being punished for behavior he didn't remember, but at the same time, he couldn't ask Stella to forget all she had been through over the years either.

        His folks came to see him often. Ray and Damien had gone to a few ball games, worked some more on the GTO, and Damien promised to take him fishing one weekend soon. For Ray, their relationship was what it had always been, yet he noticed that his father grew wary whenever Fraser was present. Ray suspected that Damien didn't like Fraser for some reason, but Ray couldn't fathom why. The Mountie had been nothing but supportive and understanding to Ray during this time, even though Ray did not remember him as the friend he was supposed to be.

        Some people adapted to Ray's condition quickly enough, others seemed convinced that they were unforgettable and couldn't comprehend that Ray really didn't know who they were. Those closest to him seemed to take it in stride. A few he met convinced they were simply unforgettable and Ray felt guilty that he didn't remember. It didn't help that many seemed to know him as a fellow named Ray Vecchio, whom Fraser claimed Ray had been assigned to pose as a few months ago.

         "I…I'm Elaine Besbriss," Elaine finally offered after a tense pause. She offered her hand to Ray. "We worked together at the 2-7. I was just a civilian aid then. I only graduated from the academy this year." Elaine noticed the band on Ray's finger and glanced at Fraser, puzzled.

        Ray shyly shook her hand, his uneasiness evident in his slumped shoulders and darting eyes.  He seemed to look everywhere but at her. "Hi," he murmured and quickly released her hand again. "C…can we go now, Fraser?"

        The Mountie exchanged an apologetic glance with Elaine before nodding to his partner. "Certainly, Ray," he assured and clapped a supportive hand on Ray's shoulder. "It was wonderful to see you again, Elaine."

         "You too," Elaine offered kindly, although her eyes never left Ray. He seemed so different from the brash over confident detective she knew.  "You guys take care and call me if you need anything, okay?"

         "Thank you kindly, Elaine," Fraser returned, warmly.

        Ray nodded. "Yah, thank you," he returned politely, before allowing Fraser to guide him toward their original destination. He glanced behind him, found Elaine was still watching, and quickly faced the front again. "She's nice," he commented as Fraser held the door to the Chinese restaurant open for him.

        Before Fraser could reply however, Elaine was beside them again. "Ray?" she inquired softly as he turned toward her startled. "It's okay…that you don't remember me…us working together." She offered him a small smile and one of her cards. "Maybe we can get reacquainted. You can call me if you like. We…we don't have to talk about old times, if that makes you uncomfortable, but we could…maybe make some new memories if that's okay?"

         Ray's expression was unreadable as he stared at the card she offered. He lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes suspiciously bright.

        Elaine deepened her smile encouragingly as he reached out a tentative hand for the card.

        "Thank you," Ray returned, his voice wavering, slightly. "I…thank you, Elaine."

        Elaine smiled brightly and nodded: her gaze caught the look of approval that Fraser was giving her. "Yes, well, I had better get back to work…crooks to catch, heads to kick…" She lowered her eyes, thinking how much that sounded like something Ray would say, but Kowalski only nodded. He was obviously unaware of the subtle flattery. "I'll see you guys later. Stay safe."

         "Take care, Elaine," Fraser offered smiling and held the door once more for her to exit. He turned to Ray, who had started toward a table; Elaine's card still clutched in his fingers. "I believe you may have made a new friend, Ray."

         "Maybe," Ray shrugged shyly, and pulled out his wallet to place the card inside so he wouldn't loose it. "What do we usually get to eat here, Fraser?"

        The Mountie had taken the liberty of ordering most of the times that they ate out. He was incredibly attuned to the detective's taste, even more than Ray was aware of. "Whatever you wish, Ray," he replied startling his friend. "Pick from the menu."

         "I…I never had a lot of Chinese growing up, what do I like?" Ray inquired.

         "You like vegetables, correct?" Fraser suggested and Ray nodded. "Most of the items on the menu are vegetable dishes.  You pick one and I'll tell you what is in it."

        Ray glanced over the menu in consideration. "Um…Moo Goo Guy Pan, I kinda recognize that.  What is it?"

         "I believe that one has carrots, corn, snow peas, and chicken in a white wine sauce," the Mountie offered.

         Ray nodded. "That sounds good.  I'll have that one," he decided.

         Fraser nodded as their waiter approached.

        "What else does it come with?" Ray asked.

        Fraser thought from a moment trying to remember.  "Rice, an egg roll and soup I believe," he returned.

         "Okay, " Ray agreed. "That's good, sounds good, order dat."

        Fraser nodded and gave their order to the waiter. He ordered water for himself and a coke for his partner. "Um…do dey have beer here, Fraser?"

        The Mountie nodded. "I am sure they do, Ray. Would you prefer that instead of the soda?"

        Ray approved the change and Fraser adapted their order. The waiter wandered off.

         "You don't drink, do ya, Fraser?" Ray inquired suddenly, munching on a bread stick.

         "Only the obligatory toast to the Queen, Ray," Fraser replied and watched his friend's eyebrows rise.
 
         "What Queen?"
 
        "The Queen of England, Ray." Fraser returned, patiently.
 
          "I thought you were from Canada?" he asked, confused.
 
         "Canada is still ruled by the British Monarchy, although we are technically our own country," Fraser informed, calmly.

        Ray laughed. "I knew dat, I was just testin' ya." he teased and Fraser smiled. " I learned dat in school. Haven't forgotten everything. Ya ever meet her, Fraser?"

         "Who, Ray?"

         "The Queen," Ray reminded grinning.

         Fraser nodded. "Once, at a Consulate function during Canada day," he acknowledged, proudly. "She was everything they claim her to be. It was quite an honor."

         "Canada day?" Ray repeated thoughtfully, obviously in the mood to talk. "When's dat?"

          "It is similar to your Independence Day on July forth. Before 1982 Canada Day had been known as Dominion Day, First of July, Confederation Day, and July the First." Fraser supplied as the waiter brought their drinks. "Canada Day celebrates the events that occurred on July 1, 1867, when the British North America Act created the Canadian federal government. The BNA Act proclaimed "one Dominion under the name of Canada," hence the original title of the holiday, "Dominion Day." Dominion Day was officially renamed "Canada Day" by an Act of Parliament on October 27, 1982. This change reflected the policy of successive governments to downplay Canada's colonial origins. Canada's national celebration is always observed on July 1, unless that date falls on a Sunday, in which case it is observed the following day… " Fraser paused, as he realized that he had been rambling and Ray had not interrupted him once.

         "Dat it?" Ray inquired without a trace of sarcasm or impatience.

         "That about covers it yes," Fraser confirmed; surprised to find Ray actually looked interested. Perhaps Ray's work as a police officer was what caused him to be so intolerant at times, for the detective certainly didn't seem the least bit exasperated or bored with Fraser's anology, as he usually was.

         Ray grinned. "You shoulda been a history teacher or something, Fraser," he offered. "Ya got a thing fer facts and dates and stuff, don't cha?"

        Fraser nodded, modestly.

        "That's cool. I wanted ta be a teacher y'know?'[ Ray confessed. "But, my grade point average was too low. As it was Dad pulled in a lot of favors ta get me into college at all."

         "I think you would have been a wonderful teacher, Ray," Fraser offered kindly, watching his friend blush. "What subject did you want to teach?"

         "It doesn't matter. I didn't make it did I?" Ray frowned and glanced around idly. "I guess I screwed up at college too. I couldn't decide on a major anyway. Bet Dad was pissed, but he won't talk ta me about it when I ask."

        Fraser recalled the conversation he had with Ray the day his parents showed up at the precinct. Ray had seemed deeply regretful that his becoming a cop had devastated his father so badly. It had soured their relationship for many years, to the point where they barely communicated. Now, Ray did not remember dropping out of college, or becoming a cop, and Fraser could understand Damien Kowalski's need to keep his son from remembering all those lost years between them.

         "I am sure it is al…how do you say…water under the bridge, now Ray," Fraser assured. "Your parents are both very proud of what you have become."

         "My parents are great, I love 'em a lot," Ray confessed as their meals arrived. "But I don't think I'm that kinda son."

         "What kind would that be, Ray?" Fraser inquired, as Ray poured soy sauce over some of his meal, mixing it together with his fork.

         "Y'know…smart, talented…not such a screw up I guess," Ray deliberated. "I mean, dey love me still, I just wish I could do... better, y'know? My brother got dat department all sewed up. I never quite measured up to his standards."

         "I am sure that your parents love you both equally, Ray," Fraser confided and again his friend shrugged. "I find you to be all of those things and I am an excellent judge of character."

         "Ya are, hey?" Ray grinned.

         Fraser returned his smile. "Of course, I have you as my partner, what more is there to say?  I never lie, Ray."

         Ray smirked. "Yah, well my Mum likes you and dat's a plus in my book." He indicated Fraser's plate. "Eat yer food before it gets cold, Mr. Honesty." he teased and Fraser did just that.
 

         "It may help prompt your memory, Ray," Fraser encouraged, as they pulled into the 27th Precinct's back lot. "You spent a good deal of time here.  Something may be familiar."

         "But, I don't remember, Fraser!" Ray refused reluctantly, picking at the steering wheel with his fingers. "I don't know anybody here."

         Fraser scowled and bit back his own frustration.  Fraser understood Ray was frightened and confused, but then so was he. He couldn't help worry that his partner would never remember him and that they would never be the friends they once were. Fraser was trying everything he could think of to help. He wanted Ray to get better, because he understood first hand how terrifying it was to loose your memory. He had forgotten who he was for almost two days, after attempting to stop a kidnapping, and Ray Vecchio had seen him through it. Now the shoe was on the other foot and he was getting a sense of the frustration and hurt that Ray Vecchio must have felt when Fraser couldn't remember their friendship.

        Fraser also had to admit to a small bit of jealousy on his part, as Ray seemed to spend so much more time with his parents now than he had. Before, Fraser could always count on Ray wanting to spend time with him, go to dinner, hang out at Ray's place, and of course work cases together. Now, the only time the Mountie could see his partner was if he dropped by Ray's apartment to ask if he was free.

        Sometimes Ray was willing to spend time with his partner, other times he was not up to going out or he had made plans with his folks or with Stella. Ray spent a good deal of time either at the race track, or walking around the campus where he had gone to school. Often he would be found going over car magazines with his father and hunting for extras for the GTO. His parents were obviously eager to take advantage of this second chance to show Ray how much they loved him.  Fraser simply wasn't used to sharing Ray and it was taking some getting used to.

         "Yes, Ray, I know that you don't remember, " Fraser finally acknowledged. "But, perhaps seeing them will help you to remember. They are all your friends and they wouldn't do anything to hurt or embarrass you, Ray."

         "What if I say somethin' stupid?" Ray demanded, suddenly. "What…what if I don't remember them and I hurt their feelings or…"

        Fraser placed his hand on his friend's shoulder comfortingly. "Ray, don't worry about their feelings, right now," he insisted. "They are here for you. You just do or say whatever is comfortable, no one will hold it against you."

        Ray nodded slowly then glanced back at the wolf waiting patiently in the back seat. "C…can Dief come with us?" he asked, hopefully. "I…I feel better when he's around. You and him are my only…"

         Again Ray stopped in mid sentence, reluctant to admit certain feelings aloud. Fraser steeled himself against the sympathy that he wanted to offer. He knew it was something he couldn't do. The detective would refuse any kind of pity.

         "Diefenbaker may accompany us, certainly," Fraser agreed, stepping out of the GTO, and allowing the wolf to drop down beside him.

        Ray joined him reluctantly and they headed inside.

         It was relatively quiet down stairs, just the desk Sergeant and a few people waiting or walking through the halls. However, once they entered the squadroom the volume level rose dramatically and Ray winced at the constant chatter and ringing telephones.

        Fraser glanced at him expectantly, letting Ray decide whether or not to continue. He was silently proud when the blond straightened his shoulders, cracked his neck and stepped forward, Dief at his heels.

         "Hey Vecchio!" someone called.

        Ray ignored them for a second, before remembering what Fraser had told him about being undercover. He finally nodded toward the person politely and continued with Fraser toward what he was told had been his desk, or rather Vecchio's desk. Like he wasn't confused before! This being two people was hard on his  already fragile sanity.

         "Have a seat, Ray," Fraser encouraged.

         Ray settled into the chair slowly, waiting for a sign that something was familiar. He recognized nothing.

        Fraser smiled. "Look around if you like."

         Ray shrugged and did as the Mountie recommended, glancing through the two small desk drawers. He found a large bag of candy, two small rubber balls, some kind of portable, hand-held fan, a scattering of pens and business cards with Ray Vecchio's name on them and a small photo of him and Fraser.

         Ray jumped guiltily, when the phone beside him rang. It startled Fraser as well who had settled in his usual seat opposite Ray.

         "S…should I answer it?" Ray asked the Mountie, but Fraser shook his head.

         "The operator will answer, when you don't pick up," he assured, catching sight of Welsh walking toward them. "Ah, here comes Leftenant Welsh."

         "Who?" Ray inquired then followed his friend's glance toward the larger man approaching.

         For some reason, Ray felt guilty for being caught sitting at the desk, and he bolted out of the chair, knocking over the small cup of pens perched on the corner. He immediately bent to pick them up, with Fraser's assistance, until a pair of large boots came into view. Ray's gaze traveled up toward the Lieutenant's face, anxiously, fully aware that others were now watching him as well.

         "I…I'm sorry I…I didn't mean…" he began flustered, setting the cup on the desk with shaking hands, almost tipping it a second time. God, what was wrong with him? He was never this nervous, even during finals. He shook his head. He didn't have finals anymore-he was living in the real world, no more school.

         "Relax, Det…Ray," Welsh amended and offered the anxious blond a reassuring smile. "Why don't we talk in my office? Catch up on things?"

         "Um…ah…" Ray looked toward Fraser. The Mountie had retrieved his Stetson and was posed to follow them. "Ah…yah, okay...we…sure, yes, Sir." God! Talk much Kowalski? Ray shook his head at his own inadequacies.

        Welsh's eyes met the Mounties's briefly, before he led Ray toward his office. He couldn't help but notice the way Kowalski kept his eyes lowered from the others staring at him.

         "Don't you people have work to do?" Welsh barked, startling Ray, who was nervous enough as it was. He patted Ray's shoulder, affectionately. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya."

        Ray shrugged and scratched at his neck. "You didn't I...I'm not usually like... I mean I'm actually a pretty laid back person once ya get to know me, I don't usually act...well...like a maniac."

        Welsh chuckled, deciding now was not the time to refute that claim. "Don't you worry about it," he assured.

         They entered the office and Welsh had started to close the door when Francesca Vecchio flew inside. She threw her arms around Ray in delight.

        Fraser immediately stepped forward to disengage them, knowing how such display's bothered his friend, but he was surprised and silently pleased when his partner accepted the embrace.

         "You're back!" she crowed and hugged him hard, before releasing him just enough to step back and smile up at him. "I missed ya."

         "Hi, Frannie," he greeted shyly, and she gapped at him.

         "Ya remember me?" she declared happily and he shrugged.

         "Who could forget you?" he countered.

         Francesca beamed at him in delight, her joy earning him another hug. "I'll go get ya some coffee. I know just how ya like it." she offered, releasing him. She asked if the other two men wanted some as well. They declined and she turned back toward the door, glancing at Ray again. "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

         Fraser and Welsh watched the pretty Italian hurry through the station, obviously pleased that Ray remembered her. They then turned back toward the detective, who had settled quietly on the sofa, leaning forward, his hands cupped together in a relaxed pose.

         "That's great, Ray," Welsh encouraged, grinning. "You remember Francesca?"
 
        Ray met Fraser's gaze, knowing the Mountie could read the truth in his expression. He lowered his eyes and shook his head reluctantly. "Ah…no, but Fraser told me about her and showed me a picture," he admitted, quietly. "I didn't wanna hurt her feelings."

         "That was very kind of you, Ray," Fraser offered,  "Although, I am sure Francesca would understand that you didn't remember her."

        Ray shrugged again. "I know but…she looked so happy ta see me and…" He shook his head. "Don't tell her yet, okay? Maybe I will remember her later. I'd like to."  Ray found his gaze wandering back toward the door. "She sure is a a ball of fire ain't she?"

         "She is indeed," Fraser agreed as Francesca returned with Ray's coffee, complete with the package of Smarties she had confiscated from his desk.

         "Thank you," he returned politely, taking both and setting them on the floor beside the sofa, not quite thirsty enough to try it yet.

         Francesca seemed content to sit beside him, until Welsh reminded her that this was a place of work not a social gathering. She gave him a tolerant look and rose unhurriedly, smoothing out her blue civilian aid top and black mini skirt, before offering Ray a bright smile.

         "Maybe I can come over and cook you dinner one night?" she suggested. "I'd invite ya home, but ya probably don't remember Ma and Maria and the others, and dey're all a lot to handle on a normal day.  You let me know when yer hungry fer a good Italian meal and I'll come fix it fer you."

         "I'd like that, Frannie," Ray replied, kindly. "Thank you."

        Francesca was touched by his manners and she impulsively reached out to ruffle his hair. "Yah, well, don't think it's because I like ya or anything.  It's just because yer my brother, sort of." she declared.

        Ray smiled, not fully understanding what she meant but going with it anyway. "Okay," he agreed easily.

         Welsh cleared his throat in warning.

        Francesca sighed and paused to purr at Fraser before tossing her head and leaving the office.
 

         "You know how much a pound of nails weighs on Pluto, Fraser?" Ray asked suddenly, as the unfamiliar words entered his head.

         "Pardon me?" Fraser returned puzzled.

         "On Pluto," Ray repeated. "Ya know how much a pound of nails would weigh there?"

         "Well of course, Ray," Fraser replied, distinctly recalling the detective asking him that once before.  He wondered if Ray was remembering something. "It's the same as a pound of cheese. 6.4 oz. Why?"

         "Because, Frannie likes you," Ray explained calmly, not knowing how he knew that. He watched the Mountie blush as Welsh chuckled.

         "What…?" Fraser was lost as to how one thing connected with the other. "I'm afraid I do not see…"

         "Yep dat's the problem all right," Ray agreed rising from the sofa. "I'm a little tired, Fraser. Can we go now?"

         "Certainly, Ray," the Mountie agreed, relieved at the change in topic.

        Ray moved to shake Welsh’s hand. "Sorry ta run out before we could visit.  I…maybe we…" He shook his head. "I'll see ya around I guess."

         "Would you mind if we went for a beer sometime?" the Lieutenant offered and Ray seemed grateful for the reprieve.

         "Sure, um…yah, okay," he agreed. "Maybe ya can tell me what kinda… policeman I was."

         "Ya were the bane of my existence," Welsh teased,  "but you were a damn fine cop."

        Ray blushed, pleased at the man's words. "I…we…should go now, Fraser," he decided. "It was…nice meeting you, Sir."

        Welsh smiled, but Fraser saw the familiar concern in the older man's eyes. It was difficult to care so much for someone that didn't remember you, and be unable to help. Fraser said goodbye and followed his friend out.

         "Ray!" Stella greeted as they headed downstairs.

         Ray smiled, brightly. He moved toward her automatically, and then faltered as he remembered their situation. He did that a lot lately, forget and then remember again.

         "Um…hiya, Stell," he returned quietly. "H…how are you? Do ya work here too?"

         "I'm the Assistant's State's Attorney, Ray," she explained calmly. "I'm here quite often regarding certain cases."

        Ray nodded, his eyes darting around nervously before meeting hers again. "Oh," he replied, "so we...did we work together then, sometimes?"

         "On occasion we did, yes," she admitted and he smiled.

         "That's great, Stell," Ray returned, affectionately. "We always said…" He paused again and looked away, his smile fading. "I…I mean dat's cool.  Y'know that we worked... together."

         "You are..were a very good detective, Ray," she offered, kindly.

        Ray  shrugged shyly. "We um…we're going to lunch would…want you…can you come?" he stammered, anxiously.

        Stella glanced at Fraser, who stood behind his partner supportively, perhaps worried Stella would shoot Ray down as she usually did. Did the Mountie really think she would be that insensitive? Besides, things were better between her and Ray now, didn't the Mountie realize that yet?

         "I can't today, Ray," she declined softly.  She wanted things to be better for him, easier. The fact that a lot of the old Ray, the man she was first attracted to had re-surfaced helped make Stella more compassionate of her ex-husband as well. "Maybe another time?"

         "Yah, okay, greatness," Ray agreed pleased. "Another time then.  You…you can call me or…or somethin'. I…We don't do much all day, Fraser, and me, just…y'know walk around tryin' ta get me to remember, but…"

        Stella touched his arm tenderly. "I'll call you, Ray," she promised. "I have to go, okay?"

        Ray nodded and captured her hand and she glanced down. They both caught sight of his wedding ring, simultaneously and Ray pulled his hand away. Ray had remembered to take it off the few times they had gone to dinner with his folks, or when she stopped by to see him, but he hadn't expected to see her today, so he had of course been wearing it.

        "Don't worry, Stell. I'm…I'm not expectin' anything," he assured, quickly.

        Stella could still see the pain in his eyes, the hesitation in his smile.

        "I just feel more comfortable dis way," Ray continued. "It’s not like I'm lookin' fer anyone else anyway. Gotta figure who I am first, right?"

        Stella felt tears sting her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Ray…" she began, remorsefully.

        Ray caught her chin with his fingers as she tried to lower her gaze. She raised her eyes to his again and he shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Stell," he protested, gently brushing his lips against her cheek in a feather light kiss. "It's not yer fault. I still love ya."

         "Oh, Ray," Stella declared, so close to tears at the torment he was silently suffering. "I love you too, we just…"

         "It's okay," he repeated firmly, then released her and stepped back. "We'll have dinner and talk, like ya said."

        She nodded.

        Ray waved at her and Francesca, who was returning to her desk, as they headed out. Fraser tipped his hat graciously toward them before following.
 
 

         Fraser and Ray entered the bank and fell in line for one of the three tellers there. Kowalski couldn't quite grasp how his bank card worked and since he could no longer remember his ATM code Fraser was taking him in to have it changed to something he would know.

         They chatted comfortably back and forth, although Fraser sensed his friend's apprehension. Ray had informed him that banks made him nervous. He did not elaborate; either assuming the Mountie understood why, since he seemed to know so much about him as it was, or unwilling to dredge up such a private memory.

         They were both startled when three men walked in, all with ski masks and semi automatic weapons. Two rushed the tellers, demanding their money, while the third ordered everyone to get down on the floor. A guard had been standing at the back, close to where Fraser and Ray stood and immediately looked to them for answers.

         Ray didn't have any clue why the older man was staring at him.  Ray had already dropped to his knees with the others, yet Fraser remained standing.

         "Excuse me, Sir," the Mountie was saying and Ray couldn't believe his ears. "I am afraid I will have to ask you to relinquish your weapons. You are all under arrest."

        The third man looked Fraser up and down before replying. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

         "My name is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted police…" Fraser continued.

         Ray stared up at him in shock. Had this guy lost his last marble or what? "What are you doing?" he hissed. "Shut up and get down here!"

        Fraser gave his friend a look that Ray didn't understand.

         "You wanna play hero, Mountie?" The gunman sneered aiming his weapon directly at Fraser. "Yer gonna be a dead hero."

        Ray's instinct was to stay where he was. His fear taking over any foolish thoughts of bravery, yet this was Fraser, his only friend, whether he remembered him or not. He felt himself rise, despite the danger he was putting himself in.

         "Look, he…he's loony toons," Ray appealed to the gunman, thinking it wasn't far from the truth.  Didn't the Canadian realize he was putting them all in danger? Ray couldn't comprehend the words coming out of his own mouth or what was giving him the courage to say them. "Just…just ignore him, okay? Take the money and go."

         "Who are you?" the gunman hissed.

         "I'm nobody. I swear!" Ray insisted as it finally dawned on Fraser that Ray was not wearing his weapon and that his partner was looking very frightened.

         The Mountie had reacted automatically, expecting his partner to back him up.  He had momentarily forgotten that Ray no longer knew how to be a cop. Both men dropped to their knees. However,  the gunman, reveling in Ray's obvious alarm, placed his weapon under the blonde's chin, preventing him from dropping lower on the floor.

         The man laughed and Ray found himself back in the bank with Ellery, a terrified thirteen year old and scared out of his mind. Beads of sweat dotted his brow and upper lip. He was trembling uncontrollably, afraid if he so much as breathed, the man would shoot him. The man stood before him menacingly.

         "You still wanna play hero huh?" the man scoffed evilly, as he played with the trigger on his gun.  He teased Ray with the idea of being shot in the head, the chest, or the groin.

        Fraser watched helplessly as his friend shivered before the gunman, his fear evident. For the Mountie it was like someone had kicked him in the gut, his Ray had always been so brave in his posture, but this Ray was still just a young man. "Leave him alone," he demanded, as Ray closed his eyes, appearing to be ashamed and defeated.  The Mountie cursed his role in Ray's terror. "He's doing as you ask.  Leave him alone."

         "Com'on, we got the dough, let's scram!" the first gunman ordered and started to hurry out of the bank.

          Finally, the muzzle rose from the detective's head and a second later Ray felt himself react. He
reached out and snatched the weapon from the startled gunman, swiping him across the face with it. The
man fell to the floor, unconscious.

        Fraser immediately knelt and secured the gunman with cuffs that the security officer had tossed him. "Well done, Ray," he proclaimed, choosing not to chase after the other suspects, in deference to staying
with his partner.

         A teller rose and hurried to call the police.

         Ray dropped the gun as if it had burned him. He backed up, until he was against the wall, then slowly slid downward. What had he just done? What had possessed him to grab that guy's gun? He could have been killed and Fraser was praising him for it?, curled up in a fetal position, and started rocking himself. Ray closed his eyes tightly against the barrage of images that now assaulted him, scenes that perhaps were from his past but were moving too quickly for him to understand.
 

         Ray could feel the blood pounding in his ears as he tried to make sense of the erratic pictures tumbling around in his head. He blindly started to crawl away, hoping he could leave them behind, but they stayed with him. He curled himself tighter into a ball, trying to fight the images and voices.
 

         "Ray?" Fraser offered kindly, moving to assist his fallen partner.  Fraser was concerned that the blond was going into shock. He was unaware that the trauma of Ray's own reaction to the gunman had triggered something in Ray's brain that, for the moment, was blocking out any sense of reality.

         Fraser would never forgive himself for subjecting his friend to such a situation. He had reacted automatically, expecting Ray to back him up and now it seemed Ray would pay for his mistake. He gently touched Ray's shoulder and tried to reach him. "Ray it's over," he informed.  His own eyes were suspiciously moist as he watched Ray crawl further away from him, to lean against the far wall.

         Either the detective was refusing to answer or his fear wouldn't allow him to. He curled his arms around his knees and continued to rock. His eyes were focused on the wall ahead of him, his mind now replaying the scenes with the gunman. Ray's brain had shut down momentarily.  Perhaps it was the accumulated stress of trying to cope with all that had gone on since waking up in the hospital. And now with the additional trauma of the bank robbery it was all threatening his remaining sanity.

         Other officers arrived on scene and the suspect was taken into custody. Huey and Fraser both continued to try to get through to him, but their voices didn't seem to register.  Each time they tried to touch him, Ray started banging his head violently against the wall, stopping again the moment he was released.

        Elaine, having been in the area when she heard the call rushed inside and moved toward them immediately. "Ray?" she greeted softly, after witnessing the distress Huey and Fraser were in trying to reach Kowalski. She knelt beside him and carefully placed a hand on his knee. "Ray, its Elaine. Do you remember me, honey? We met outside the café, remember?"

        From somewhere deep inside the shattered domain of his brain her soft voice registered. "E…Elaine?" he murmured in a voice more common to a child then a grown man.

        Elaine nodded and moved to help him stand. "That's right," she assured, glancing at the other two men beside her.

        Ray stood and stepped into the protective cradle of her arms. "Is he dead, Elaine?" he asked and she stared at him confused. "Did I kill him? I..I don't know what I did, Elaine I..."

        Fraser stepped forward, guessing Ray's dilemma. On top of his shock, Ray was afraid he had actually killed someone. "You merely knocked the gunman out, Ray," he assured. "He'll be fine."

        "Let's get you to the hospital," Elaine suggested. " You have…"

         "No!" Ray refused digging his feet in fearfully. "No hospitals! I hate hospitals!"

         "Okay, okay," Elaine assured to keep him from becoming hysterical. "We…we'll go back to your place.  How about that? Will that be okay?"

        It seemed to take a moment for Ray to focus on her again. "My place?" he whispered. "Where's is dat, Elaine? Where…where do I live? I want to go home, my home, with Stell. Can ya take me there?"

        Elaine exchanged a forlorn glance with Fraser who looked close to tears himself.

         "We'll take you to you're apartment, Ray," Fraser offered, quietly. "Remember, where your turtle is?"

        Ray finally nodded slowly, and allowed Elaine to guide him toward the door.

        Fraser sadly followed.

          Elaine spoke briefly with her partner, who offered to cover for her and they headed toward the GTO parked at the corner. Fraser was about to climb in the back when Ray protested.

        The detective was switching back and forth between the past and the present it seemed. "That wasn't buddy's Fraser!" he screamed. "Are you unhinged?"

         "Ray I…" Fraser began remorsefully.

        "You're always endangerin' my life in wildly…" suddenly Ray stopped and looked like he was about to pass out. "What…what does that mean? I…I don't feel so good, Elaine. Can we go home?"

         "Sure, Ray," Elaine agreed as they all climbed into the car.

         Back at Ray's apartment, Elaine went about fixing some coffee for her and Ray and some tea for Fraser. The Mountie was offering Kowalski some painkillers and a glass of water to swallow them with. The blond was in obvious pain, having ridden most of the way home with his eyes closed.  He would often press his knuckles urgently against his head, perhaps trying to block out whatever was happening.

         Fraser was doing everything to try and make amends, which only ended up with him fussing over his partner and annoying Ray even more. When Fraser tried to wrap Ray in a blanket the American threw it off angrily and glared at the Mountie.

         "Why did you do that?" Ray demanded. As he became more alert his fear and adrenaline rush finally turned to rage. "Were you try ta get us killed? I oughta kick you in the head!"

          "I am sorry, Ray," Fraser offered quickly, startled by his partner's sudden anger. "I forgot for a moment that you…weren't yourself. I am terribly sorry I…"

         "You forgot?" Ray declared furiously. "You're supposed ta be my friend! Everyone says you're my friend.  Damnit! If I don't know who I am and you ferget where the hell does that leave me, huh?"

         "Ray, Benton didn't mean it…" Elaine soothed walking over to them with the tray of mugs and setting it on the table.

         "He didn't mean it?" Ray scoffed looking at her amazed. "Do you know what he did? He stood up and tried arresting those guys. He doesn't even carry a gun fer Christ's sake! What the hell kinda bullshit Boy Scout training is that? Are you some kinda psycho with a death wish or what?"

         "Ray I didn't mean to…" Fraser began then stopped again, distressed. He was more then willing to accept his friend's anger.  His behavior had been inexcusable given Ray's current state of mind.

         "Ya almost got me killed, Fraser!" Ray accused, bolting to his feet, his whole body radiating hostility. "That guard ...he…I think he thought I was someone… someone I'm not anymore, but he's a stranger. You're supposed to know me! How often ya gonna ferget about my memory, Fraser? How often ya gonna pull this shit and try ta get me killed?  If I don't know and you can't remember I'm screwed, do ya get that?"

        Fraser caressed his brow nervously. "Ray please I…you are right.  I behaved on instinct and…" Fraser's words were interrupted by more voices in Ray's head.
 

         "…my behavior is unacceptable," Fraser continued.

        Ray shook his head and tried to focus again on reality.

        "I promise it will never happen again…"

         "I can't trust ya that it won't, Fraser," Ray insisted.

        The Mountie felt a stabbing pain shoot through his heart and a heavy dread filter down over his body.

        "You're freakin' nuts! Nobody told me ya were nuts," Ray insisted.  "I thought ya were kind of a freak but…no sane person pulls a stunt like that. Are ya stupid or what? Ya ain't Superman for Christ's sake! How could ya do that?" Ray's breathing was coming in gulps now. "Did...did you see what I did? Did you see how...I don't even know why I did that...why I hit that guy. Dat was stupid, Fraser and if...if that was the kind of partner you were...and...and the kind of cop I was then...then I'm glad I don't remember!

         "Ray, I am sorry I…"

         "Elaine, please, get him outta here," Ray almost sobbed and stormed toward his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

         Elaine offered Fraser a sympathetic look, watching the Mountie struggle with his feelings.  He wanted to stay but was afraid to hurt Ray further by doing so.

         "Stay, Benton," Elaine finally decided for him, handing him his cup of tea and giving him a gentle push toward the sofa. "He needs you, he's just upset."

         "He is right, Elaine," Fraser muttered miserably. His fingers gripped the cup fiercely, as he struggled to remain calm and in control. "I did put him in danger. I just didn't think. Ray always said that, I don't think. I just react and I...I did put him in danger sometimes because of my thoughtless pursuit of justice. He's right. Ray deserves a much better man as his partner, someone who won't..."

         Elaine gripped his arm and gave him a gentle shake to silence his incriminations. "This is hard for everyone, Benton," she stated softly. "We can't go back and say what if, or start doubting ourselves or everything we've done around Ray. No one knows what to do. We just have to try and be here for him, and not let him push us away. Okay?"

        Fraser nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

        Elaine squeezed his arm then moved toward Ray's bedroom. She knocked once then entered, closing the door behind her.

         Ray was stretched out on the bed, with a pillow over his head. His body was shaking slightly, as he wept quietly. She walked over and lay down beside him, knowing that as much as Fraser cared, the strictly disciplined Mountie couldn't extend the one thing Ray seemed to need most right now; a shoulder to cry on.

         She pulled the pillow away and Ray moved into her arms willingly, resting his cheek against her chest and wrapping his arms around her. She wove her fingers through his hair while her other hand made soothing circles over his back.

         "I suck," he sniffed.
 
        Elaine chuckled. "No you don't.  You're just confused," she assured,

         "I didn't mean it, Elaine," Ray offered, rising up on his elbow to meet her gaze. "I didn't mean ta hurt Fraser like that. I don't even know what I'm sayin' anymore."

         "I know," Elaine admitted gently and pulled him back down to cradle him to her breast. "Benton knows that too. It's hard for both of you. But you have to remember he is your friend and he would never intentionally hurt you."

         "I…I think I remembered something, but I'm not sure," Ray acknowledged, quietly. "I can't make sense of it, but it's…its' about him…uh…Fraser."

         "Maybe you should ask him about it?" she suggested but he shook his head shyly.

         "He probably hates me now."

        Elaine sighed. "Benton would never hate you, Ray," she denied. "You have to talk about it or you'll just get more confused and frustrated."

        Ray raised up again to look down at her, then bent his head and kissed her shyly. "Don't take this wrong, but I wish you were my Stell," he sighed.

        Elaine nodded. "I know sweetheart, you love her very much." She wished she could find a man that would love her as much as Ray loved his ex-wife.

         "Very much," Ray agreed forlornly. "But she doesn't belong ta me anymore, and I can't even remember what I did wrong."

         "Go to sleep, Ray," she suggested. "You'll feel better."

        Ray nodded and moments later drifted off.
 

         Ray walked along the evening streets of Chicago, searching for things that were familiar and discovering new things he didn't recall seeing before. The city itself was pretty much the same, a concrete jungle of lights, sounds, smells and bustling people. Hot dog and pretzel vendors parked in every other corner, neon signs advertising a variety of services and landmarks of certain hot spots.

        Ray visited the Chicago Theater, where he had spent a good deal of his time as a child, sneaking in to watch movies and stage shows. He remembered the many times his family had driven over the Michigan Avenue Bridge to go visit his grandmother for holidays and special Sunday weekends.  Although he seemed to have missed a lot of the technology and development of the city over the past thirteen years, it still felt like home to him. He loved this city, which would probably never change because it was his home. It was where he grew up, where he had met and married Stella and where he allowed himself to dream.

         Glancing toward another familiar landmark in the city, Ray almost stumbled over an old man curled up on the street beside one of the buildings. There seemed to be many more homeless people now then he could ever recall seeing before. Pausing to stare down at the vagrant, Ray noticed the man wore two dirty sweatshirts, one over the other, a pair of cotton gloves, without fingers, and an old, stained pair of work pants. His boots had holes in them and the man was shivering in the cold evening air.

         The man glanced up at him, a look of fear on his face. Perhaps, he thought Ray was going to harass him, but Ray only felt sorry for him.

         Ray retrieving his keys, wallet and other essentials from his heavy coat, to place them in the pocket of his jeans, or the single front pocket of the hooded sweatshirt he wore. He shrugged out of the coat and knelt to gently lay it over the shivering man. Ray offered him a small smile when the man cast him a startled but grateful look.

         "Get something to eat, okay," Ray encouraged, handing the man a twenty. "Something hot."

         "Bless you, sir," the old man croaked and accepted the money with shaking fingers. "Bless you."

        Ray nodded, straightened and continued on his way.

         A woman, who had witnessed his kind gesture, stopped him as he past. "He'll only buy liquor with that money, you know," she stated disapprovingly.

        Ray glanced back at the man who was staring at the money happily and pulling on the warm coat. He shrugged. "That'll keep him warm too," he decided, honestly and moved away from her.

        The woman continued to stare after him for a long moment before shaking her head and moving on.

         Ray tilted his head back, opened his mouth to catch some of the cold flakes on his tongue, and walked ahead to lean against the rail that surrounded a skating pond. He watched the people slide past him with an easiness that he envied, as music from the speakers mounted on the posts above piped music to skate by.

         A little girl in a pink skirt, a purple coat and scarf glided toward the center where her father stood encouragingly. She almost got all the way there when she fell, but rather then cry and give up she rose, dusted herself off and tried again.

        Ray envied her courage. If only it were that easy to pick up the shattered pieces of his own life, too just rise and move on.  But how could he find where he was going, when he didn't know where he had been. Time was a constant, all the great scholars and scientists agreed. Yet, it was the one thing in Ray's life that was the least consistent. Years of his life had been erased and he had no way to recount them. He didn't even know if he wanted to.

        Ray pulled a cigarette from the package, in his sweat shirt pocket, and lit it with a Zippo lighter he
had purchased about a week ago. Ray had always considered himself a social smoker, he only lit up on
occasion and never around his folks or Stella, because they didn't approve. The first time he lit up, had
been the day that Stella had stopped by and they had gone to the zoo. He had called her that morning
before she showed up and he had begged her to pick him up a pack. Stella had told him that he had quit
smoking many years ago. However, Stella did bring him a pack of his preferred brand and was quite
amused when Ray lit up and immediately started to cough. His body was no longer used to the nicotine, yet his mind craved it.

        It didn't take long for Ray to regain his habit, but he did try to keep up the farce that he no longer
smoked in front of the others. Ray suspected the health conscious Mountie might have a stroke if he ever
saw him smoke, so he hid that side of him. However, the cravings were still there, since Ray couldn't
remember that he had quit.

        Ray began to wonder if he really wanted to be that person that everyone claimed he was, or was he in need of a new identity? He had grown up to become someone unfamiliar, pretending to be someone he didn't know, with a job that he couldn't fathom having. He liked Fraser, that was true, even trusted him, but Fraser, Francesca, Welsh, even Stella were all remembering a person he no longer felt he was. The person they all loved and respected, was not who Ray felt he truly was.

         Ray took a long draw on the cigarette and sighed as sweet nicotine filled his lungs. So who was he? He was a man without a past, at least beyond his collage years. In some ways he still felt so young and vulnerable. In becoming a man he had somehow lost Stella and the closeness he had shared with his brother and best friend Joe. Yet he had gained a Mountie and what seemed like a fine circle of friends. According to some he was a hero, to others an agitation. How did he find out which one of those was the truer Ray Kowalski?

         Ray suspected he should be cold, having given his coat away, but his T-shirt and the heavy fleece sweatshirt, he wore over it, seemed to keep back the cold. Perhaps, it was just that having helped someone he now felt inner warmth that chased the chill from his bones. Ray had always liked helping people, especially the people of this city that he loved so dearly. Maybe that was why he had become a cop. He had always thought about it.

         Ray realized he still wanted to be a cop. He wanted to help people and protect them from creeps like Ellery and those punks at the bank. He couldn't remember any skills he might have had, so how would he go about starting over? Would they just let him go back and learn as he went, or would he have to go where ever wanna be policemen went for training? Would Stella come back to him if he tried becoming what he was before? Did they have a second chance at happiness?
 
        Ray walked a little further and soon found himself on the steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral. He glanced upwards to where the tall steeple reached into the clouds above. He mounted the steps, two at a time, took a final draw on his smoke and then doused it in the ashtray/container outside the door. He pulled the large, heavy oak doors open and stepped inside.

        The silence was almost deafining, compared to the noise on the street outside. Soft lighting and stained glass windows added a serene effect to the interior of the church. Ray wasn't Catholic, and this was a Catholic church, but he didn't think that would matter. He moved slowly toward the middle rows and settled in one of the pews. There were two older ladies saying a rosery closer to the front and a man lighting a candle for someone at the back altar.

        Ray didn't even attempt kneeling, he just sat down on the wooden bench and leaned forward with his hands clapsed together. Briefly, he wondered how long it had been since he last prayed. Stella had mentioned that they hadn't been to church for many years when Ray asked her about attending service with his parents last Sunday. Ray felt guilty over that and had also declined his folk's offer to attend.

        Ray stared up at the statue of Jesus, cruicifed on the cross. That's gotta hurt, he thought ironically, then shook his head at his own foolishness. Oh well, he imagined God pretty much knew the twisted way Ray's brain worked, He'd probably forgive him for that little slip. Ray wet his lip, surprised to find he was nervous and that his hands had started to sweat. What was up with that?

        Ray closed his eyes, then opened them again. He could never pray in the traditional sense, it just never felt right. He could rememeber the Lord's prayer and a few psalms, but they didn't seem appropriate for what he had to say.  Beginging with The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want, would be dishonest because Ray did want, he wanted to understand, he wanted guidence to get through this new, frightening world he was in. Instead, Ray just said what was in his heart.

        "God, I...I don't know how long it's been since I talked to ya, probably awhile, accordin' to Stella." Ray shook his head, frustrated. Enough with the excuses, God knew the score or he wouldn't be God. "Anyway I...I'm not really askin' for anything, well I guess I am, but...look, if I don't remember, that's cool, you probably have a reason for not wantin' me to, but..."

        Ray closed his eyes and pushed back the tears that threatened to descend upon him.

        "I just need yer help, Lord. Help me...if not understand then to deal with what's happened. I'm fallin' apart here, I'm a real mess and I got no one else to turn to. My Stell isn't...well, we're not the same and this new guy, Fraser, he's cool but I really don't know him, y'know? I don't wanna worry my folks by lettin' them know their son is crackin' up, so that leaves you, Lord. Please help me. Please give me the strength to...to make it through this, somehow."

        Ray opened his eyes again and they fell upon the statue a second time. "Ya put yer own Son through much worse, I know, fer us ya did dat and I'm grateful. I...I just need a little..." He shook his head and lowered his eyes, ashamed. "I don't know what I need anymore, everything's changed." Ray bit his lip and blinked a few times to dispel the moisture in his eyes. "I'm lost Lord, a lost lamb and I need yer help to be found again. Help me find who I am, help me...help me please."

        Ray was startled when the choir above started singing Amazing Grace. He turned and glanced upwards at them, then back at the statue. He smirked and slowly rose to his feet. "Okay, Lord, I get it. I'll try ta be patient."

        Francesca Vecchio lowered her song book and watched Ray Kowalski move out of the pew and back down the isle toward the door. She brushed away the tears in her eyes and continued singing.

            Ray stepped outside and immediately lit another cigarette. He took another long draw  cigarette, then jogged down the steps. His eyes were lowered so he did not see the person walking past and he collided with a solid wall of muscle. Ray stumbled back and immediately started to offer an apology. He  was surprised to find the Lieutenant from the precinct standing before him.

        "I'm sor...oh, er...hi...." Ray couldn't remember his name. "Lieutenant."

        "Welsh," the older man offered, guessing Ray's dilemma. "Or Harding if it makes ya more comfortable."

        Ray nodded, but didn't seem overly eager to address the Lieutenant by either name. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, noticing the way Welsh's eyebrows rose at seeing Ray smoke. He shrugged. "Old habit."

        Welsh chuckled. "Yah," he agreed. "I smoked for thirty years, finally quit though." He patted his stomach. "Now, I just eat."

        Ray smirked and doused his cigarette, self-consciously.

        "How about we get that beer?" Welsh suggested. "There's a good pub just down the street."

        "Um...okay, sure," Ray agreed and pushed away from the rail. "You...are you like, here looking for someone....like a crook or something?"

        Welsh smiled, unwilling to admit he had been headed home when he noticed Kowalski going into the church. He'd parked the car and waited for the detective to come out again. He regarded Ray's lack of a coat. "Aren't you cold?"

        "Nah," Ray shrugged. "I'm okay."

        "You're coat get stolen or something?"

        "Um, no...I gave it some guy on the street," Ray admitted sheepishly, scratching his neck. "He looked cold."

        Welsh blinked. That was not something the old, cynical and slightly selfish Kowalski everyone knew would have done. Welsh adjusted his own coat and waved a hand to the right. "So, how about that drink?"

        Ray nodded and followed him to the small corner pub. The light was dim, but not unpleasantly so, and the smells coming from the small kitchen in the back made Ray's stomach growl. They selected a secluded booth in the back and ordered two beers.

        Welsh shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of the booth, as he settled opposite Kowalski. "So, where's Big Red today?"

        "Who?" Ray asked.

        Welsh cursed himself. "Fraser, the Mountie," he explained.

        Ray nodded. "Oh, Fraser. Yah, he...I guess he's at work or something," he replied scratching his jaw thoughtfully, then accepting the mug of beer the waitress brought for them. "I think he mentioned a party or dance he had to organize."

        Welsh nodded and sipped his beer. "So, how have you been doing?"

        Ray shrugged and played with the coaster his beer had come with. "Gettin' by. Trying to play catch up, figure out...what's going on. Y'know, stuff."

        "Yah," Welsh agreed. "Can't be easy fer you. Have you remembered anything?"

        Ray shook his head and took swig of his beer. "No, not really anything I can, y'know relate somethin' to."

        Welsh nodded. "That's too bad, but then there's a thing or two I wish I could forget."

        "I guess," Ray concurred, quietly.

        "Does dis make you uncomfortable, Ray?" Welsh inquired, kindly. "Bein' here with someone you don't remember?"

        Ray hesitated a long moment before answering, his eyes glued to the checkered table cloth beneath his glass. "No, not...I mean it's a little weird, but I'm gettin' used to it." He shrugged. "I'll never make any friends if I worry about whether they knew me before or not, so all I can do is try and...ya know, get to know people again. It's cool, really. I'm okay with it, I think." Ray wondered if that sounded as confusing as it had been to say.
 
        However, Welsh nodded in approval, understanding what the blond was attempting to get across. Kowalski was a strong fellow and he would be fine. "Is there anything ya'd like to ask me, anything I can do to help?"

        Ray thought for a moment and started playing with his coaster again. "I...I dunno. I kinda wanted to know what sort of detective I was, but..." He shrugged. "Since I'm not dat guy anymore, I don't really see the point."

        Welsh sat forward and leaned on the table, crossing his large fore-arms in front of his beer and causing Ray to glance up, respectively. "I get dat," he agreed. "But I do want ya to know you were da best at what you did, Ray. I think, if you decided to go back to being a cop, the City of Chicago would be pretty damn proud to have ya."

        Ray flushed with pleasure, unsure why this man's praise seemed to mean so much to him. "Thank you, Sir," he offered, quietly. "I...I'm glad I did okay with it then." He paused. "Um...this....this guy Vecchio, I'm supposed ta be, who is he anyway?"

        Welsh told him a little about Ray Vecchio, some pertinant fact, but did not go into detail about where Vecchio had been re-assigned.

        Ray nodded. "So I...I was pretending to be him and...and that was okay, I mean I did it okay, portraying him?"

        "You're one of the best undercover officers I've ever had under my command, Ray," Welsh informed, honestly. "You pay real good attention to detail, had Vecchio summed up real good."

        Ray lowered his eyes, shyly as a small grin spread across his face. "I...I took some drama classes in school," he admitted, self-conciously. "That maybe helped, huh?"

        Welsh hid his surprise well, that wasn't so far fetched really, Ray probably had the makings of being a great actor, he was excellent at throwing himself into a part and on the spot improvization. which was what made him such a fantastic undercover cop. Regardless of the fact that others seemed to think Ray was intellectually challenged, Welsh knew the detective's mind worked at the speed of light when needed. The day those jokers tried to pin 9 kilos of missing cocaine on the real Ray Vecchio showed how good Kowalski was at thinking on his feet. The man could not be tripped up in his deceit, for all purposes he was Ray Vecchio and there was no way to prove otherwise, except by fingerprinting.

       Ray's detecting skills were also phenomenal, the detective didn't miss much. Fraser's keen intellect and unorthadoxed methods often made it seem that the Mountie's skills were greater than Kowalski's, but Welsh didn't believe that. They both had unique perspectives in different areas. Fraser's was a vast knowledge of chemicals and compounds and a photographic memory. Kowalski had the ability to get inside the heads of the criminals he chased, years on the street making him sensitive to their way of thinking.  This was why he and the Mountie were such a good team.

        Kowalski could also bullshit his way into and out of almost any given situation and he was a chameleon when it came to dealing with people. He could come across as hard headed and psycotic to the criminals he interviewed, or incredibly charming and soft hearted with the victims. It was always a toss up what mood the detective would be in at any given moment and that made life at the precinct both exasperating and entertaining as hell. If Ray Kowalski had not become a cop, Welsh fully believed the detective would be an A-Class con artist with a swift criminal mind. He would be a very dangerous adversary indeed, so Welsh was glad Kowalski was on their side and used his powers for good and not evil.

        Welsh finally responded to Ray's comment. "Did you want to be an actor, Ray?"

        A slight flush rose in the detective's cheeks and he shook his head. "Me, no, not...I mean that would be cool I guess. I like Steve McQueen, he's the greatest, but I...I didn't really consider acting or anything." He shrugged sheepishly. "I took the classes because I thought it would be an easy A, y'know?"

        Welsh grinned. "And was it?"

        Ray chuckled. "Hell no! It was damn hard, lot of...um...ya had to really think about what you were doing, what yer motivation and stuff was." He smirked and took another swollow of his beer. "I was never real good at thinking and the only motivation I ever had involved Stella."

        "So did you drop the class?" Welsh inquired as he finished up his beer and ordered another, as well as a couple of menus; the smells from the kitchen were starting to get to him too.

        Ray shook his head. "No," he confessed. "I was going to, but my instructer told me I'd be stupid to do that. He said I just needed to relax and not be so worked up about performing in front of people, then I'd be real good."

        "And were you?"

        "I was okay, I guess," Ray nodded then grinned. "I got my A anyway."

        Welsh laughed as the waitress brought him a fresh beer and handed them two menus.

        "Y'know, Ray," Welsh began, regarding the detective intently. "No one wants you to be anyone but who ya are. I mean, guys like us, you, me and Fraser, being a cop is more about what we are than just what we do. You were a good cop, you probably could be again of you decided to try, but I don't want you to think it's what you have to do. It may be in your blood, in fact I'm sure it is, but you have ta do what's best for you right now and not worry about what others think you should do."

            Ray stared at him mutely, searching for something to say.

         Welsh guessed Ray's problem once again and continued. "All I'm sayin' is...well ya maybe need a new perspective on dis. Sure it's hard not rememberin' things and people and such, but how many of us get a second chance to go back and make different decisions in our lives? This could be a new start for you, you could do things ya thought about before but got side tracked from, as we all do, when we get older. Do ya see what I'm sayin'?"

        Ray nodded slowly. "I...I think so," he confessed. "I...I guess I never thought of that...in dat way before."

        "Now, I'm not sayin' it isn't going to be hard, either," Welsh reminded. "But, you just have to remember dat you do have people who care about you, people ya can lean on if you need to in a crunch."

        "Thanks, Sir..." Ray offered, then smiled. "I...I mean Harding."

         Welsh grinned and raised his glass. "Here's to havin' friends."

         Ray clicked his mug to the Lieutenant's. "To friends," he agreed.
 

         Ray's head was spinning in confusion as he sat on the sofa in his apartment. His parents had just left after spending most of the day with him. His father had brought up going back to school many times over the course of their visit. He had insisted that Ray had never been happy as a cop, so school would probably be the best thing for him, then at least he could get a decent job.

         Ray defended himself by bringing up how many people had told him what a good cop he was. He still wanted to help people. Besides, he was to old to go back to school, even if he felt younger. However, Damien had frightened him by announcing how many times Ray had been injured in the line of duty.

         "Do you really want to go back to risking your life for the ungrateful miscreants in this city, Raymond?" his father demanded. "They don't care if you live or die, y'know."

         "But Fraser said I did a lot of good as a cop, dad," Ray had protested. "He said…"

         "Now, Raymond," Damien, began gently, settling across from his son at the small kitchen table as Barbara served the meal. "I don't mean to take anything away from the Mountie, he's a good man.  He's looked after you pretty good, but he's the main reason you've been put in danger so often."

         "How, Dad?"

         "He doesn't think, Son. He just leaps ahead and expects you to follow and bail him out." Ray shook his head.

         "No, Dad," Raymond denied. "Fraser is my friend.  I trust him, he…"

         "Raymond, the only reason he's your partner is because of this Vecchio fellow," Damien stated.

        Ray scowled at his father’s words. "I know I'm supposed ta be coverin' fer another cop, Dad." He pressed. "Fraser told me..."

        Damien interrupted. "But, did he tell you that he was Vecchio's old partner?" he inquired. "When you took over as this other cop the Mountie had to take you on as his partner, so no one would suspect you weren't really Vecchio."

        Ray stared at him confused. "I…no.  Fraser is my partner, Dad. He said we were best friends and…"

         "Because you have to be, Son," Damien interceded. "It's part of yer cover."

         Ray had felt anger and betrayal swell inside him and had stormed to his room, leaving his meal untouched. His parents had left shortly after, being unable to coerce their son to return to the living area and continue their visit.

         Now, Ray struggled to deal with the idea that all this time, Fraser had only been protecting his real partner's cover. Perhaps, the Mountie had only been feeling sorry for Ray. Maybe he felt some kind of obscure sense of duty toward him. Was that why Fraser had never fully explained Ray Vecchio's role in their relationship? Had the Mountie been ashamed to admit he felt pity for Ray and nothing more?

         Fraser was Vecchio's partner. Francesca, Welsh, Dewey, all of those at the station that had treated him so kindly, were just trying to protect the identity of one of their own. How unfair was that? Didn't any of them care about him, Ray Kowalski, or was his whole life based on a lie? He stared around the apartment, regarding the things that had been unfamiliar to him when he first arrived home from the hospital, and wondered if this too was all just window dressing for his cover as Ray Vecchio. Was this what being a cop was about, living your life as someone else and not having anything of your own?

         Suddenly, unable to stand this new reality, Ray bolted to his feet and started smashing whatever he could get his hands on in a ferocious fury of confusion, hurt and betrayal. He ripped up the furniture, the curtains, tore down the blinds, and tossed a lamp through the living room window. He swiped nick knacks off their shelves, broke dishes, and threw the television at the stereo, scattering and splintering many of the tapes and tiny discs stored there. Ripping the microwave from the wall, he shattered the glass dining table, uncaring that some of the shards flew back at him and dug into his flesh.

         He scattered everything in the bathroom, all the unfamiliar medicines, and the towels the lotions and hair gels. He ripped the sheets from his bed, opened his closet and threw all his clothes on the floor. He paused, breathless from his rampage, and stared at his reflection in the dresser's mirror. He couldn't see the person he once was.  The idealistic, affectionate, hopeful young man he had been, now appeared to be a desperate shell of a man, a decade older, with fear in his eyes, confusion in his mind, and betrayal in his heart.

         "Who are you?" he screamed.  He punched the mirror furiously and shattered the false image; giving him some semblance of sanity again.

         Ray stared at his bleeding hand for a moment, before putting his other fist through the remainder of the glass.  He stared down at them speculatively. His anger started to decrease and he finally started to feel the pain in his fingers, which were now red with his own blood. He noticed that some of the blood had covered his wedding ring and he quickly ran to the bathroom to wash it off. This was twice in a couple of months that he had bloodied his knuckles.

         "What are ya doin' to yerself, Ray?" he muttered aloud. "Yer losin' it completely."

         Unwilling to chance another glance in the mirror, Ray slipped his ring off, set it on the sink, and then reached for some bandages and antiseptic cream. He treated his hands as best he could, then wrapped them both in rolls of sterile gauze. He picked up the bottle of Advil, that had been thrown to the floor, and tossed three of the small pills back. He hoped it would numb the pain in his hands; for awhile at least.

         His reached for his ring, preparing to put it on again, then stopped. No, he wasn't married any more. He had to realize that. With a great deal of effort and tears in his eyes, Ray Kowalski dropped the gold band into the toilet and flushed away the final remainder of his past.
 

         "Ray?" Fraser called a short time later, as he knocked on his friend's door a third time, still receiving no answer. He knew the detective was home, the GTO was parked out front and the light was on under the door. "Ray, it's Fraser.  I know you're home."

         "Go away, Fraser," Ray called from inside.

        Fraser stared at the door perplexed. "I…I thought we might catch a movie, Ray," the Mountie offered through the door, glancing down as Dief pawed at the wood expectantly. "Dief and I would like to come in, if we may." Fraser hoped announcing the wolf's presence would earn them entry, as Ray seemed so fond of the animal.

         "No. I'm not up fer company, Fraser," Ray returned.

         Fraser frowned. There was something dangerous in his friend's quiet tone, something the Mountie had never heard before and it worried him. He tried again.

         "Ray, what's wrong? Why won't you open the door?" Silence. "Ray?"

         "Ray doesn't live here anymore," his friend announced.

        Fraser’s keen hearing picked up on the tears in Ray's voice. "Please let me in, Ray," he pleaded.  He knew his partner was upset and he wanted to help. "I'd like to talk to you."

         "It's okay, Fraser," Ray replied, back to that same quiet tone that worried the Mountie more then tears did. "Ya don't need too pretend anymore. I know all about Vecchio."

         "What about, Ray Vecchio, Ray?" Fraser demanded, worried. What in the world did his former partner have to do with Ray's situation?  "Please, Ray.  Let me in so we can talk."

         "I don't wanna talk anymore, Fraser. I'm done talkin'," Ray insisted. "Not to you, not ta Stella, Welsh, my folks, nobody, ya get me? I just wanna be left alone."

         "Don't push us away, Ray," Fraser encouraged, desperately. "We all care about you. We only want to help."

        Ray's response was emphatic. "No! No more lookin' stupid. No more bein' afraid. No more carin' if people know me or not. I'm done, it's over."

         "Ray…w...what are you planing to do then?" Fraser demanded anxiously, praying to God his friend wasn't suicidal. He pounded angrily on the door when Ray didn't reply. "Don't do this Ray! Don't do this to me…to us. Don't shut me out! You are my friend and my partner and…if you don't open this door I…I shall break it down this instant!"

         Fraser was startled when the door opened and Ray stepped out, wearing jeans, a gray sweatshirt and his heavy leather coat.  He was clean-shaven, his hair had been slicked back to lay flat against his head, instead of its usual spikes, and he wore dark glasses to hide his eyes. Fraser took note of the large duffel bag his partner carried and the wrappings on Ray's hands.

         "What happened?" he demanded, immediately.

         "Nothing," Ray returned and closed the door, locking it behind him. He then handed the key and an envelope to Fraser. "Drop this to the landlady fer me. Tell her if its not enough money ta cover the damage, I'll send her more when I get where I'm going."

         The only things Ray had left untouched were the things that he knew were his, Baba's table, his desk, his bike, still hanging on the wall, an orange lamp that had once been in his dorm and the dresser in his bedroom, that had always belonged to him.

         "D…damage, Ray?" Fraser repeated, puzzled. "What damage?"

         "I made a little mess in the apartment," Ray replied. The thin blond bent briefly to scratch Dief's ears then quickly walked away from them.

         "Ray, where are you going?" Fraser questioned hurrying after him.

         "Away, Fraser," Ray replied as they headed down the stairs.

         "But Ray, what about getting your memory back?" the Mountie implored, desperate not to let his friend walk out on him like this. "If you stay here you have a better chance with things that are familiar…"

        Ray paused on one of the landings and turned to face him. "My memory may not come back, Fraser," he stated firmly. "And I can't wait fer it ta make everything better, so I'm leavin' to figure out who I am, or at least who I can be. Stayin' here just reminds me of who I was and I'm not that person anymore. I need to find out who I am. Can ya understand that?"

         Fraser did understand. He had felt much the same when he had left for Canada after his bout of Amnesia, but somehow that situation seemed different then what Ray was facing. Fraser feared if the detective left, he would never return.

         "Let me come with you, Ray," he suggested earnestly. "I…I can help. I can protect you."

         "From what, Fraser?" Ray smirked. "All the big bad people of the world? I can do dat myself."

         "Things have changed, Ray. You aren't safe alone anymore and…"

         "Look, I appreciate what you've done, even if it was because ya were just tryin' ta protect Vecchio like my Dad said…"

        Fraser immediately protested. "No, Ray, I…"

         "I appreciate it, but I gotta go," Ray finished and continued down.

         "Don't do this, Ray," Fraser implored, behind him, following quickly as the Detective stepped outside and headed for his car. "Ray, I…I don't know what your Father told you about Ray Vecchio. It's true he was my partner before and that you took his place, but that isn't why I…"

        Fraser faltered.  He needed to make Ray listen, and in desperation he grabbed the blonde's arm; preventing him from sliding behind the wheel. "Regardless of what brought us together, you are my partner now, Ray. Please don't throw away that friendship because you are confused and hurting.  Please let me help."

         "I have ta do dis, Fraser," Ray insisted quietly, lowering his eyes sadly.

         "Why? Why do you have to run away?" Fraser demanded, his fear turning to anger. "If you aren't concerned about your memory returning, fine, we’ll forget it, sweep it under the tapestry…"

         "Rug, Fraser," Ray couldn't help correcting.

         "Rug, carpet, whatever!" Fraser exclaimed, very near the end of his patience.

        Ray had to bite back a grin.  He had never seen the Mountie so passionate and worked up. At least, not since they had met at the hospital.

         "What I am trying to say, Ray," Fraser continued, earnestly. "Is, that I won't press you to remember anything from before. I will just be your friend.  We…we can discover who you are together."

        Ray witnessed the torment in the Canadian's eyes. Maybe his father had been mistaken.

        "Ray, you…you are my friend, perhaps my best friend…"

         "What about Vecchio?" Ray asked, quietly. He was still angry about what his father had said. He still felt betrayed.

        Fraser paused and took a few deep breaths as he searched for an answer. "Ray Vecchio will always be my friend," he admitted finally. "But you…you and I are different, Ray.  We…I felt a connection with you from the first day we met.   I…I cannot explain it." He lowered his eyes for a moment and scratched his neck nervously.

        Ray could tell that the Mountie was very uncomfortable with the intimacy of this conversation.

         "Ray, although we are not blood related, I…I feel that you and Dief are my family. You two are all I have left. Please don't push us away."

         Ray regarded him and the wolf quietly for a long time as a silence fell between them. He wanted to believe him. He had come to like Fraser so much and the Canadian had treated him better than anyone ever had. That was why it hurt so much to think their friendship hadn't been real.
 

         Ray couldn't do it, he couldn't leave it like this, Fraser didn't deserve that. He reached out and gasped Fraser's hand in a firm grip, meeting the Mountie's tormented gaze, and finally finding an understanding in their blue depths.

         "Partner's forever, Frase," he agreed, and watched Fraser blink back the moisture in his eyes.

         "You really need to do this, Ray?" the Mountie questioned, defeated.

            Ray nodded.

           "Then God speed my friend," Fraser offered, reluctantly. "I hope you find what you are searching for."

        Ray tossed his bag into the car and pulled Fraser in for a quick hug. "I'll be back, buddy," he promised and felt Fraser's shudder of relief against him.

         "We'll be waiting, Ray," Fraser vowed, as Ray bent to give Dief a farewell hug as well.

         Ray climbed into the car and with one final look at his friends he pulled away. He switched the radio on and a young man singing in a clear, sure voice, that Ray envied, dispelled the sudden silence
 

to be continued….
 

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