This is the final story in the three part series, Identity Crisis. I thank Mary Ann, my Guardian Angel, and constant inspiration for challenging me to write it as a form of therapy. I was in an accident similar to Ray's back in January, and it has helped me a great deal more then I could ever have imagined.  I hope you will enjoy it in the spirit it was given. As for Ruthie…You really Butter my Muffin-Baby, yer da greatest!  Gee, I feel like I'm at the Oscars! And now on with the story…
As always, Feedback is greatly encouraged. PG-HC for language and violence

By Amethyst

         Mary Ann Baker glanced out her living room window and smiled benevolently at the site before her. Fraser and Ray had purchased some skates and a couple of hockey sticks in town. Now they were out on the small pond dueling over the puck. Diefenbaker was running back and forth, choosing to remain off the ice, and barking excitedly.

         Ray had made a full recovery from his pneumonia and had resumed his usual energy, much to the Mountie's delight. The Bakers had watched the two men frolic like children these past few days. Snowball fights, hockey on the pond, and wrestling with Dief. Sometimes they would build snow structures and Fraser, ever the perfectionist, had to have his just so. Ray would usually get aggravated and shove the Mountie into a snow bank, or into the structure itself. Both would end up laughing.

          They went for long walks and Fraser would point out different types of trees and tell Ray about life in Canada. Ray in turn would tell Fraser how much he had enjoyed hiking and fishing when he was a child, and that he had always wanted to learn how to rock climb. Both would spend hours poring over books in the evening, by firelight, or playing cards or a board game with the Bakers. They were like two school-aged children that just discovered they could be best friends and were becoming inseparable.

         Mary Ann glanced at the large grandfather clock against the wall and smiled. She moved to the front door, pulled it open and stepped out onto the porch. "Supper, boys!" she called to them.

        Fraser slid to a halt on the ice and glanced toward the older woman, only to have Kowalski ram him from behind and grab the puck away from the Mountie.

         "Be right there Mrs. B.!" Ray yelled back, as Fraser skated after him, accusing his partner of playing unfairly.

       Mary Ann smiled and watched them fondly for a moment before returning inside.

        Fraser try to over take his speeding friend. Ray was very good on skates, he could move like the wind and Fraser had been pleasantly astounded at Ray's skill at hockey. "

        "That was hardly sportsman like, Ray," Fraser called after him, as Ray skated with the puck toward their make-shift goal.

        "All's fair in hockey, Ben," Ray laughed, twisting suddenly to the side and avoiding the Mountie's lunge. However, he didn't anticipate that Fraser would be able to stop so quickly.

        "In that case," Fraser laughed. "You won't mind if I do this." He shot his stick backwards and clipped one of Ray's skates, tripping the American.

        Ray was determined though, he managed to stay upright just long enough to grab hold of Fraser and take him down with him. They both landed hard on the ice.

        "Aw Christ!" Ray gasped as his tailbone hit the hard surface. "That's gonna leave a mark!"

        "No more than your others have, I would imagine," Fraser retorted as he reached behind to rub his own sore area.

        Ray laughed and lay back on the ice for a minute, catching his breath. "I don't care," he decided happily. "I'm havin' too much fun to worry over a few bruises."

        "As am I, Ray," Fraser decided, delighted. And he was.

        Fraser had not had this much fun since he was a youth in Canada. Perhaps it was Ray's mental state, still considering himself a young man of twenty two at times, that added to his partner's new exuberance for life. Fraser wouldn't complain, he was enjoying this new, free-thinking and fun loving Kowalski. Ray was also proving to be much more challenging than Fraser imagined he would be. Before they only ever did things related to police work, outside of a few sports games or movies.

        Getting to know the more personal side of Ray, the side that had not been hardened by his years on the street, was a constant source of enjoyment for the Mountie. Ray was an excellent competitor, either in hockey or in their games of chess or cards. Ray was more accepting of the knowledge Fraser chose to share with him now, whereas the American used to find Fraser's constant expounding an annoyance. They both seemed to share a love of reading and nature.

        Of course, there were still very prominent signs of the old Kowalski, the Ray everyone else knew. Ray still had a helacious temper when he did get riled, and Fraser noticed the detective always felt the need to destroy or hit something when his anger hit the boiling point. Ray must have worked hard to overcome that side of him, once he became a cop, as it only surfaced occasionally before. Now, Ray had lost whatever discipline he had learned and Fraser was trying to help him recover that part of himself. Boxing helped to rid the American of some of his fury, and Fraser would spar with him regularly or hold the bag in the cabin to help Ray rid himself of some of his fury. Most often Ray's anger would be spurned by his feeling of helplessness after a bad dream, or when Fraser or the Bakers spoke of things that had happened in the last thirteen years, which Ray no longer remembered.

        Ray still loved junk food and when Fraser could get his partner to eat, Ray ate well. The detective enjoyed food, he just tended to forget about eating half the time and had to be reminded. Ray still had to have his early morning coffee before he could be worth a damn, but he was much harder to wake up in the mornings than he used to be. Before, perhaps the cop side of him, caused Ray to be awake instantly, without even realizing it. Now it took Ray forever to actually wake up, as he was a deep sleeper.

        Fraser also had suspected that Ray was claustrophobic before, as he did not like to go into the closet at the station, or sit too long in the car, but now the detective didn't seem to mind dark tight spaces at all. He and Fraser had found a collection of small caves on the Baker's property and had gone exploring for hours. Ray had shown no signs of anxiety whatsoever. Whatever had caused Ray's fear must have been after he had joined the force and it was amazing how one can forget an experience and no longer be afraid of something that had caused them so much trauma before.

        The sarcastic side of Kowalski was still very evident, much to Fraser's chagrin, as it seemed twice as bad as it ever was before. The comments that sometimes came out of his partner's mouth now often left Fraser flustered and speechless, but he was adjusting. He realized that Ray just like to shock people, and he was actually quite good at it, so Fraser worked hard not to let Ray get to him. Fraser was always torn between shock and laughter with this new side of Ray and he could not always contain his reaction either way.

        Ray was also a terrible tease and, once he was more comfortable with Fraser, nothing was sacred. Ray would say things to the Mountie that no one else would dare to, simply because Fraser was usually so polite and proper. Ray didn't allow that to dissuade him, it just made things more interesting. However, rather than get offended by his friend's brazen comments, Fraser found himself replying with comments that were just as bold. This only delighted Ray, who seemed happy to finally have someone that could keep up with the verbal sparing that he enjoyed. Despite the way Ray was around Fraser, he was still the ultimate gentleman and shy city boy around the Bakers, which also made Fraser quite proud to know him.

        "Better get inside," Ray decided, struggling to his feet then offering a hand to Fraser. "Mrs. B., will tan our hides if we don't."

        Fraser nodded and accepted his friend's assistance. They collected their equipment and skated to the edge of the pond, where their boots lay.

        "I'm gonna take one last lap," Ray suddenly decided and pushed back onto the ice.

        Fraser nodded as he settled on the small bench and started to unlace his skates. He watched Ray gather speed as he rounded the ice and shook his head in amazement. The man was almost a blur and Fraser just couldn't understand what going that fast did for his friend. He pulled of his skates and shrugged into his boots.

        Ray skidded to a halt about a foot away from Fraser, to avoid hitting him with the spray of ice his skates threw up. His face was red from the exertion and the speed he had gathered, but he was grinning. He plopped down beside Fraser and started to unlace his skates. "Much better," he decided.

        "I get dizzy just watching you do that, Ray," Fraser smiled. "Whatever do you get out of going at such speeds? You'll break your neck one of these days."

        Ray shook his head and pulled on his boots. "Nah, I never go faster than what I can control," he assured, pulling his jeans down over the tops of the boots. "I like it, almost makes me feel like I'm flyin'. Just a cool, free feeling, Ben."

        Fraser smiled and wished Ray could remember some of their adventures now more than ever. You have flown, Ray my friend, he confessed silently. You just don't remember it. He slapped Ray's knee. "Let's go eat then."

        Ray nodded and picked up his equipment, as Diefenbaker trotted toward the Baker's cabin.
 

          Mary Ann turned off the oven. The boys would be in soon, she always gave them a few extra minuts to finish up their game, before she expected them to actually come inside. She loved having them here; it was like having her own two boys with her. She would miss them when they did finally return to Chicago.

        She quickly set the table as her husband helped with the cutlery.

         "You're getting too attached to them, honey," John commented affectionately, although he knew that was true of him as well. "They will be leaving soon, I imagine."

         "I know that," Mary Ann sniffed and set the casserole on the table. "I'm just enjoying them while they're here. There's nothing wrong with that."

         "We're not their family, sweetheart," he reminded as he heard the men stamping their boots on the porch. "Eventually they'll leave just like Fred did."

        Mary Ann turned away from him. "Stop it!" she hissed, as Fraser and Ray entered.

         Mary Ann moved into the kitchen, so they would not see the tears sparkling in her eyes. She heard John greet them and Ray make a comment that caused the others to laugh. Mary Ann felt cold arms sneak around her as the detective bent to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

         "What's wrong?" Ray asked quietly. He brought with him the smell of fresh air and crisp snow.

        Mary Ann smiled and turned to pat his cheek, affectionately. "Nothing's wrong, dear," she lied, and quickly changed the subject. "I hope you and Benton are hungry." She knew he didn't believe her denial but he stepped away and let it drop.

         "Okay," Ray allowed, "but I have a secret fer ya."

         Her smile widened. "Something plumy?" she encouraged, wickedly.

        Ray grinned. "Very plumy," he agreed.

        Mary Ann leaned closer, expectantly. "Do tell," she implored.

        Ray bent to whisper in her ear. "I love you," he murmured and kissed her cheek again. She blushed in delight, as he straightened. His expression grew serious and she met his gaze. "It's true. I mean it Mrs. B."

        Mary Ann's heart swelled at his words. He had said the one thing that would make her feel better and she loved him even more for it. She reached up for a hug and he gave it to her, willingly. "I love you, Sweetcakes," she whispered, teary eyed. "Like my own."

        Ray nodded. "I know," he replied, gently. "When I do leave, I want ya to know, I'll be back to visit and I'll write and call you as much as I can."

         "Bless you, Stanley Ray," she sniffed, caressing his cheek as John entered the kitchen.

         "Hey now!" the older man scolded, grinning. "I've told you before about flirting with my wife, young man."

        Ray grinned and gave Mary Ann an extra squeeze for good measure before stepping back. "I can't help myself, Mr. B.," he smiled. "She's irresistible."

        Mary Ann blushed as John tossed his arm around her shoulders. "She is that," he agreed fondly gazing down at her.

        Mary Ann smacked at his chest playfully. "Oh! You're full of it you old coot," she teased. "Now get to the table and I'll bring the salad."

         "Yes'em," both Ray and John replied and hurried out of her kitchen.

         They had just settled at the table when the telephone rang. Everyone exchanged a curious glance, as John rose to answer it.

         "Maybe it's Santa Claus," Ray teased.

         Fraser smiled. "He comes down the chimney, Ray," he reminded. "He doesn't call on the telephone."

         "How do you know?" Ray pressed grinning. "Maybe he's deliverin' toys over the World Wide Web this year and dat's his modem calling. Even Santa has to keep up with da times."

         "If it is, then he's two weeks early, Ray," the Mountie replied.

         "Hey, we're special," Ray opted, "and I've been a really good boy this year…" He paused. "I think."

        Fraser and Mary Ann laughed.

        John returned with the portable receiver. "It's for you, Benton," he stated.

         Fraser accepted the instrument curiously. "This is Constable Fraser," he greeted and was surprised when he heard Welsh on the line. "Good evening, Leftenant. No, no, we were just sitting down to dinner with the Bakers. What? Oh dear. Yes, of course. No I'll manage. I will. Thank you for calling, Sir. Yes. Goodbye."

         "What's goin' on Frase?" Ray inquired, concerned by his friend's expression. He had redeveloped using the nickname on occasion, but he stuck to calling Fraser, Ben or Benton buddy. Ray almost never called him Fraser anymore.

         "That was Leftenant Welsh, Ray," Fraser replied worried. "I'm afraid I'll have to return to Chicago. Elaine Besbriss had been brought up on charges of murder and conspiracy to commit murder."

         "What!" Ray exclaimed shocked. "No way! Look I may not remember her, but dat just don't wash, Ben."

         "I agree, Ray," Fraser concurred, "as does Leftenant Welsh. He has requested I to return and help with the investigation. It's obvious Elaine is being framed."

         "Then, let's go," Ray agreed and rose from the table.

        Fraser stared at him startled. "Ray? You…you wish to return to Chicago with me?"

         "Yah, why not?" Ray defended.

         "I well, not that I'm not delighted," Fraser assured, also rising. "I only thought you would prefer to stay here."

         "Ben, dis is Elaine we're talkin' about here," Ray insisted. "She's a friend and you don't leave yer friends hangin'. Screw all dat udder stuff, I'm goin'."

         "Well, finish your meal first," Mary Ann suddenly demanded. "No sense driving on an empty stomach. Sit down."

        Both men sat contritely and did as they were told.
 
 

         Later, Ray and Fraser were gathering their things into the GTO, when the Bakers hurried out to say good bye.

         "I made you some sandwiches and a thermos of coffee for the trip," Mary Ann told them, handing Fraser the small bag, and turning to Ray. "I know you aren't particularly religious, Stanley Ray, but I would like it if you would wear this." She pulled the St. Christopher's medal from around her neck.

         "I can't take dat, Mrs. B.," he refused gently. "It's yers."

         "And now it's yours," she insisted. "If you want, you can return it to me later, but I want you to wear it for now. Please it will protect you."

        Ray blinked back the sudden tears in his eyes and lowered his head, so she could fasten it around his neck. "Thank you," he returned, slipping the charm inside his jacket and shirt.

        Mary Ann then handed Ray her leather bound, first edition copy of 'Treasure Island'. She knew it was his favorite, from the ones he had borrowed from her. "I want you to have this too," she insisted when he started to protest. "Now, don't you dare hurt an old woman's feelings. Take the book or I'll beat you over the head with it."

        Ray grinned and accepted the book. "I'll be back," he promised hugging her.

         "You better be," she whispered, clinging to him. She stepped back, wiped at her tears, and hugged Fraser, as Ray shook hands with Mr. Baker.

         "You two be careful now," the older man warned. "Call us when you get the chance, let us know how you're doing."

         "We will," Fraser promised and he held the seat forward so Dief could climb inside. "Thank you both for taking such good care of Ray and myself."

         "Oh, we enjoyed having you here," John assured as he wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders. The men settled into the car and moments later drove off. John glanced down at Mary Ann concerned. "You okay?" She nodded, even as she continued to wipe at her tears. "Think they'll be back?"

         "I know they will," she confirmed resolutely and allowed him to guide her back to their house. Her small fingers tightened on the silver bracelet in her hand that Ray had slipped there during their embrace, and she smiled brightly.
 
 

         Ray  tried to ignore the stares he received when he and Fraser walked into the 27th precinct the following day. They had gone to Ray's apartment, and the detective was touched to learn that the Mountie had been holding it for him. It was late when they returned to Chicago, so they had both grabbed a few hours sleep, before heading into the station later that morning.

         "Constable!" Welsh greeted, having come from the kitchen with a coffee in his hand. "Ray! I'm…er...surprised to see you here. How are you feeling?"

        Kowalski had shaved the sides and back portion of his hair close to his scalp, leaving just a thin layer of spikes at the very top. He wore a fetching emerald green turtleneck and black denims under a long, dark winter coat. Welsh had noticed that Ray seemed to wear nicer clothes now, still casual, but a little more stylish than his usual polo's and T-shirts. The shoulder holster and Ray's weapons were conspicuously missing, but then Kowalski hadn't been wearing them since the accident. It still took Welsh some getting used to seeing the blond without it. Fraser of course, was in his usual civilian attire.

         "I'm good, Sir," Ray assured as they followed him to the Lieutenant's office. "I want to help in whatever way I can."

         "Well, good," Welsh seemed pleased, as he moved behind his desk and Fraser started to close the door. "We need all the help we can get."

         "Exactly what has happened, Leftenant?" Fraser inquired. "You mentioned murder. How is Elaine involved?"

        Welsh sighed, set his coffee on the desk, and then dropped into his chair. "Have a seat gentlemen," he suggested, frowning. "It isn't good."

        Both Ray and Fraser settled in the chairs opposite the desk.

        Welsh continued, keeping his tone clear and free of inflection, he related the facts, as he knew them. "We have two versions of the same story and both are in contradiction to one another. I'll start with Elaine's report first." He cleared his throat and took a swig of his coffee before continuing. "Officer Besbriss and Officer Clark were on a routine patrol. They had stopped to grab a coffee and while Besbriss was out of the cruiser, Clark claimed to have received a call, on the radio, about a B & E goin' on at a jewelry store on Michigan Avenue. Since that was only a block down from where they were, they responded.  Officer Besbriss went through the alley, behind the jewelry store, to cover the back while Clark took the front."

         "I don't like where dis is goin'," Ray muttered, suddenly.

         Welsh's expression confirmed his fear. "Officer Besbriss then entered the store through, an unlocked door, and claimed to have heard gun shots. She drew her weapon and identified herself. She said she didn't see Clark but that someone from the shadows fired at her. Besbriss returned fire and a moment later the suspect fell forward, two bullets in his chest. He died at the scene."

         "That sounds like self, defense not murder," Fraser commented.

        Welsh nodded. "According to Elaine it was," he confirmed. "However, Clark's version was different."

         "How different?" Ray demanded. "Different how?"

         Welsh's scowl increased, as he leaned back in his chair. "Clark claims that, yes they had stopped for a coffee, but that he never received such a call. He said Officer Besbriss returned to the cruiser, without the coffee, and was acting irrationally." Welsh continued, in that same monotone he had used when relating Elaine's version and Ray understood the Lieutenant was trying to remain impartial. "Clark's story is alleging that Besbriss claimed to see suspicious activity going on at the store on her way into the deli. She returned, immediately to the cruiser, reported the scene to Clark, who concurred that it could be a it might be a break-in. Clark suggested backup and Besberis allegedly told him there wasn't time."

         "That certainly doesn't sound like Elaine," Fraser remarked frowning.

         "Certainly, not the Elaine we know," Welsh agreed. "However, Clark alleges Besbriss had been acting strangely for a couple of weeks and she wouldn't talk to him about it." Welsh took a long swallow of his coffee before continuing. "Anyway, Officer Besbriss went around the back to sneak in, and told Clark to give her three minutes before he went in. Clark waited, heard the gunshots, and entered. He found her standing over the man's body with her gun drawn. Officer Besbriss claimed the man fired at her but Clark searched the area and could find no sign of the weapon, or additional shell casings. This was confirmed by the forensics team when they arrived on site."

         "Dat's not good is it?" Ray asked and Welsh shook his head. "So, Clark's lyin'. He gotta be. Elaine wouldn't kill someone in cold blood."

         "Has anyone questioned Officer Clark, or asked if there were any witnesses?" Fraser inquired.

         Welsh nodded. "There were no other witnesses, so it's his word against hers," he stated. "However, that's only the beginning."

        Ray frowned. "What else?"

         "Turns out that one of the reasons Elaine was acting strangely was because, allegedly, a guy named Mike Dawson was stalking her," Welsh stated grimly.

         "What's dat got to do with…" Ray began and Welsh continued.

         "Mike Dawson was the man that was killed," he informed and watched shock rise in the expressions of the other two men.

         "So…they think Elaine set out to deliberately shoot him?" Fraser theorized.

       Welsh nodded. "IA is trying to sort through it with an investigation and decide what really happened.  Meanwhile, Elaine's been suspended, pending their findings." he explained. "The scenario they're pushing fer is dat Elaine was in love with dis Dawson guy and dat she was the one stalking him. Dawson was married with two kids and a pillar of the community. They're charging dat Elaine saw Dawson go into the store, which he actually owned, and saw a chance to kill him."

         "What do dey base dat on?" Ray demanded.

         "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Fraser muttered, disturbed.

         "Correct, Constable," Welsh agreed. "They think she killed him out of a jealous rage because he wouldn't leave his wife."

         "What does Elaine say?" Ray inquired.

         "She claims she had two dates with Dawson and the guy was creepy," Welsh informed. "However, he kept calling her and showing up on her patrol route. Leaving her flowers and gifts at home and on her desk at work. She says she didn't know he was married and she kept telling him to leave her alone. She didn't know he owned a jewelry store."

         "Did she inform her superior of the man's behavior?" Fraser asked and Welsh shook his head.

         "Elaine knows the score," he sighed. "Since Dawson never physically threatened her or made any kind of advances on her, she couldn't charge him with stalking. She didn't tell anyone because, she said, she felt stupid for letting this man get the better of her and for falling into this trap in the first place. She allegedly warned Dawson she was set to file harassment charges on him when dis happened."

         "What can we do to help, Leftenant?" Fraser inquired.

         "Well, officially, we've been told to keep out of it," Welsh stated with his usual finesse. "However, since you, Constable, are not bound by our jurisdiction, you could do some investigating on your own, should you choose to do so, as a close personal friend of Officer Besbriss'. I know if anyone can get to the bottom of dis you two can." Welsh had automatically included Ray, then recalled that the Detective no longer remembered how to be a cop.

        Fraser let the comment slide. "Ah, understood, Leftenant," he agreed.

         Ray glanced at both of them. "Um…what can I do, Sir?" he asked, hesitantly. He wanted to help, but didn't know what he could do. He didn't remember being a cop and he didn't know dick about the law, so what help could he be?"

        Welsh sat back and cast him considered Ray's question. "Hmm, well, Kowalski, I don't know," he admitted. "Officially yer still a cop, but since you don't remember…"

         "I could…I could just go with Ben, though, right?" Ray interrupted and missed Welsh's startled look at him using Fraser's first name. "I...I'll stay out of the way and…um...un...unofficially I'm a friend too, so I could…help."

         "I think that would be a fine idea, Ray," Fraser concurred and Ray offered him a grateful look. "We are partners after all." He looked at Welsh. "Would that be acceptable, Leftenant?"

        Welsh was grinning, so delighted to see the pair willing to work together again that he did not hear the question. "Sorry, Constable, what?" he asked and Fraser repeated his question. "Sure, sure. Just be careful not to get Ray killed or anything."

        Fraser smiled; knowing the older man was teasing. "I'll do my best, Sir," he assured as they rose.

        Welsh stood as well and handed them some papers.  "This is all the 'unofficial' information I can give you," he grinned. "Elaine is probably at home, she's been suspended and the press have been having a field day."

         "Thank you kindly, Leftenant," Fraser returned and shook his hand as Ray peered over the Mountie's shoulder at the papers, before Fraser slid them into his jacket.

         "Ray," Welsh pulled open a drawer in his desk and tossed Ray his police identification. "Just in case anyone asks, you might need this."

        Ray grinned and caught the small ID packet that held his picture and Ray Vecchio's name.

        "This may help as well, Ray," Fraser offered, pulling the detective's badge from his coat pocket. Fraser had been carrying it around with him since the accident, waiting for a chance to return it.

        Ray's thumb caressed the Italian name on the badge, thoughtfully.

         "F...for Vecchio. His...his...I did okay, huh? I...I played him good...kept...kept him safe fer ya?"
         "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. I'll hold on to this until you feel better. We have a lot more work to do yet."

        Ray glanced up at Fraser, his eyes shining with pleasure. "Yah," he agreed smiling at the Canadian, with just a touch of confusion. "We got work to do."

        Fraser blinked a few times as the familiar words hit him. He smiled slowly and nodded. "Yes, Ray," he returned. "And we shall do it together."

        Ray nodded and dropped the items into the pocket of his coat. He turned back toward the Lieutenant, who was watching the two, perplexed. "Thanks, Lieu," he returned offering his hand to Welsh. He missed the startled exchange between his superior and Fraser, and quickly moved toward the door.  "Com'ahn, Benton buddy. Let's go catch some bad guys."

         "You do dat, Kowalski," Welsh smiled after they had left, tickled that the Detective had addressed him with that particular nickname. This Ray usually him Lieu, Vecchio had once or twice, but Kowalski was more liberal with it. He wondered if the blond even realized he had said it. It didn't matter; Welsh was pleased Kowalski seemed to be getting a little piece of the old him back.
 

         Elaine opened her door and her haggard expression became one of joy and relief, as she threw her arms around both men, simultaneously. "I knew you'd come," she whispered, gratefully, then quickly stepped back inside her apartment to allow them entry. She smiled at Ray. "I'm so glad you're here. You look great. How do you feel?"

         "I'm good, Elaine," Ray assured as she led them into the spacious living area of her loft and took their coats and Fraser's Stetson. "I'm more worried about you."

        She dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. "Oh, I'll be okay, this will all work out," she assured as she knelt and gave Dief a good rub. "This sort of thing happens all the time in police work. It'll be okay, really." She rose. "Can I get you guys a drink? I have wine, soda, water, juice, tea?"

         "Um…sure, whatever ya have, Elaine," Ray agreed, as he and Fraser exchanged a cautious glance. Despite the woman's bravado, they could sense her inner turmoil. She was scared, very scared.

         "Tea would be delightful, Elaine," Fraser confirmed.

        Elaine moved to the kitchen, grateful for something to do. She found some left over ribs in the fridge and gave them to Dief in the kitchen, then returned to the living room with their drinks.

         "You guys want something to eat?" she offered, politely.

        Ray had started peering through Elaine's wide assortment of CD's and Fraser settled on the comfortable, leather, sofa. Both shook their heads.

        Elaine seemed unable to sit so she hovered near the detective as he selected a CD and she showed him how to open the player. She couldn't get over how good he looked. Not that Ray wasn't some serious eye-candy before, but there was a subtle difference in Kowalski now that seemed to add to his attractiveness. Granted, the clothes and hair were notably different, but that was only part of it. Ray seemed younger, more youthful, so perhaps the concept that you are only as young as you feel was true. The cynical edge and suspicion that had always been a part of Ray's posture was no longer evident in his expression, only a mild curiosity showed now.

        Kowalski also seemed to have adapted to his memory loss, finally. The fear and uncertainty she had seen in him before he left had been replaced by a modest confidence and what Elaine could only consider a mature acceptance of his situation. She was pleased he had come with Fraser, she had missed and worried about him.

         "So tell me, Ray," she encouraged, not quite up to talking about her own situation yet. "How was your little vacation? Have you remembered anything else? Figured out what you want to do?"

         "Good," Ray replied, leaning down to find the selection he wanted. "Some, but not anything solid and right now I wanna dance."

        Elaine was startled when he pulled her into his arms and started waltzing her about the room to the slow moody threads of of Lean On Me..

         Elaine rested her head on Ray's shoulder, her body automatically following his lead. His gesture had been unexpected, but now she welcomed it. She ran her fingers over the closely shaved portion of his head, surprised to find how soft it was to touch, considering the lack of hair.
 

         Fraser met Ray's gaze over Elaine's head and nodded. He rose, used his hands to indicate that he would run out and pick up some food, and give them a few minutes alone. Ray nodded and continued to guide Elaine smoothly about the room, without missing a step.

         The song ended, but Ray sensed Elaine wasn't quite ready to stop, so they continued to dance through the next one as well. He continued to hold her close, their bodies moving in harmony to the rhythm of the music.  Ray didn't feel anything sexual for Elaine, which actually surprised him. She was a beautiful, sweet and caring woman, but Ray suspected he was still hung up on Stella. And of course, there was also Joyce, whom he had not seen or spoken to since that night a couple of weeks ago. He still felt guilty over that, but he was also still angry with Stella, so his heart was in turmoil. He had not told anyone about Joyce, not even Fraser. He couldn't bring himself to admit he had made yet another mistake, that he had been weak.

        They were half way through the third song when Ray noticed she was trembling and he stopped to look down at her. "You okay?" he asked softly and when she raised tear filled eyes toward him, he had his answer.
 
         Ray pulled Elaine closer and just held her, rocking her side to side with their feet remaining stationary, as she cried into his shirt. Finally, after another few minutes, he pulled back again and caught her under the chin with his free hand, forcing her to meet his gaze again.

         "Ya gonna stop bein' so brave now and tell us what's goin' on?" he smirked, affectionately.

       Elaine released a shaky laugh, as she wiped at her tears.

        Ray spotted the box of tissues on one of the end tables and moved to retrieve them for her.

         "I'm sorry," she sniffed, dropping defeated onto the sofa and blowing her nose with one of the tissues. "I don't know why I even tried…" she shook her head. "I just can't believe this is happening. It hasn't been my year y'know?"

        Ray grinned and settled beside her. "Oh yah," he agreed  "It's definitely been a Christ year."

        Elaine frowned, realizing that his had been no better. "Christ year?" she inquired, curious.

         Ray nodded. "Yah, all ya keep sayin' is 'Oh Christ, what now?' " he teased making her laugh. He sobered and reached up to caress her cheek. "Cryin's good though," he assured, gently. He'd certainly learned that these past couple of months. "Clenses all the bad stuff away. It's okay to cry."

        Elaine sniffed and regarded him, quietly. The idea of Ray crying caused a deep, piercing pain in her heart, though she couldn't eplain why. She reached forward and settled her hand over his. "I'm sorry to bring you into this, Ray," she offerd, pleased when he folded her fingers through his. "I know you...well you have enough to deal with and..." She paused and  glanced around. "Where did Fraser go?"

         "He stepped out to give us a little privacy," Ray replied, honestly. "He'll be back in a minute or two."

        Elaine shook her head ruefully. "I didn't mean to chase him away but I…" she paused. "Thank you. I didn't want him to see…"

         "I know," Ray finished for her. "I didn't want him to see me losing it either. One of the reasons I left. But, Ben's been good. He's got a lot a patience and understanding fer dat kind of stuff."

         "I know he feels uncomfortable around emotional displays," Elaine commented.

         Ray chuckled. "I think dat only counts when they're his own," he supplied and she laughed. That was certainly true enough. "He's good with other people crackin' up in front of him. Trust me, I know dis from personal experience."

         "Have you been cracking up, Ray?" she asked, concerned.

        Ray grinned. "No more than usual, I suspect," he replied making her smile again.

         "Why are you even here, Ray?" she asked, suddenly. "It can't be easy for you being back. Have you seen your folks?"

        Ray lowered his eyes for a moment, then shook his head. "Not here fer my folks," he denied.

        Elaine frowned. "Stella?"

         "Definitely didn't come back fer her," he muttered and Elaine was puzzled at his anger. He dispelled it quickly and smiled at her. "Lieutenant Welsh called Fraser about what happened." He tapped her on the nose. "Really think I wouldn't come back with him when I heard?"

         Elaine stared at him. "Then…you came back for me?" she confirmed, shocked. "Oh Ray, you shouldn't have done that. What if you aren't ready, you have enough on your plate without…"
 
        "Yah," Ray agreed. "My plate was kinda full, so I scrapped off the leftovers and wiped it clean." He grinned. "Poof, brand new plate."

            Elaine smiled at his courage. "I...I'm glad," she admitted. "But you still shouldn't..."

          Ray placed a hand over her mouth to halt her protests and pulled a card out of his pocket. Her eyes widened slightly when she recognized it as the one she had given him weeks ago outside the restaurant. "I also felt the need to make some new memories," he replied softly. "Gotta fill dat plate back up somehow."

         Again, Elaine felt fresh tears sting her eyes. She was rarely this emotional, but it had been a stressful week. She was already acting irrationally, so she just went with the flow and did what her impulses demanded. She was so touched that he had kept the card and had even thought to bring it with him, that she caught his face between both of her hands and pulled him forward to meet her lips. The kiss was sweet, tender, and non-intrusive. It spoke of only her appreciation and nothing more.

        Ray's arms went around her, hesitantly.

        Elaine allowed herself to be pulled closer and opened her mouth just a fraction to deepen the kiss. Her arms slid around his neck and she heard him sigh in appreciation. Just right, a perfect, tender kiss between friends.

        Ray smiled shyly, and lowered his eyes once she released him. He let lose a whistle of amazement, and slid his hand forward in a take off motion "Um…okay, dat's a good memory, fer sure," he admitted. "Ya taste like strawberries, I like dat."

        Elaine laughed and threw her arms around him for a quick hug, refusing to admit it was probably her lip balm he was tasting and not her personal flavor. She liked this Ray as much as she liked the old Ray, perhaps more so. This Ray allowed her to show her affection openly and didn't seem to expect anything further. The old Ray she knew would have had her picking out rings after such a display.

        They both parted as the apartment door opened and Fraser made a quiet sound of impatience. "Aren’t you finished flirting with her yet, Ray?" he teased.

        Elaine giggled and then gasped in shock when Ray gave Fraser the finger. Apparently, he had done it at least once before, because the Mountie appeared unruffled.

        Fraser closed the door and set the pizza carton on the counter close to him. "Ray has developed some interesting new ways of expressing himself, Elaine," he explained as she rose to collect some plates and napkins. "But don’t worry, I feel assured he and Dief will be reaching puberty very soon."

         "Bite me, Mountie!" Ray called from his slouched position on the sofa.

         Elaine shook her head still smiling.

        Dief jumped up next to Ray and started kissing him.

        Ray made a face and pushed him away. "I said bite not lick and I wasn't talkin' to you, ya furball."

         "Charming as always, Ray, my friend," Fraser replied, walking over and offering Ray a plate of pizza.
 
         Ray grinned, accepted the food, and moved over on the sofa to make room for him.

        Fraser waited until Elaine had settled in the opposite chair with her own plate and drink, before he took his place beside his partner. "We spoke with Leftenant Welsh, Elaine," he stated and she nodded. "He informed us of the investigation, due to the conflicting stories of you and your partner. Would you care to tell us what really happened?"

         "Yuf," Ray agreed around his mouthful of pizza, then quickly chewed and swallowed. "I mean yah, what's up with dis Dawson guy?"

        Elaine sighed and curled her feet up under her in the wide chair. "I met him about three weeks ago, on patrol," she explained, regretfully. "Someone introduced us, but I can't remember who. He seemed nice and asked me out. At first I said no, I was on duty, it didn't look right, y'know? I certainly didn't know he was married, he didn't even wear a ring."

        Fraser nodded. Few adulterous men do.

        "Anyway," Elaine continued, "Dawson somehow found out my name and where I worked. He showed up one day and asked them where he could find me. One of the operators at the precinct gave him my patrol route and he drove around until he found me, then asked me to lunch. So, I said okay. I mean, I was flattered that he went to so much trouble to seek me out, y'know?"

         "So when did ya realize he was a creep?" Ray inquired, finishing off his first piece and rising to get another.

         "Well, lunch went well, he was very charming and funny," Elaine sighed as Ray returned with the pie box and set it on the table between them. "Then he asked me to dinner so I said yes."

        She watched Ray slide a fresh piece of pizza on his plate then offer one to Fraser. She was only half way finished with her slice, so she waved off the slice he offered her.

        "Anyway, during dinner he kept complimenting me and telling me how wonderful I was and that it was kismet, or something, that we met."

         "Oh dat ol' line!" Ray rolled his eyes. "That won't even get you to first base with a woman."

        Fraser smirked. "Like you would know, Ray," he taunted.

         Elaine stared at him surprised. How could he tease Ray about not remembering and bring up Stella in one breath? It was no secret that she was probably Ray's one and only and it was cruel of Fraser to mention that.  She was more surprised when Ray grinned and elbowed him.

         "Big talk from the Calendar Boy of the Celibacy movement," Ray retorted.

        Fraser smiled and blushed, lowering his eyes.

        Ray grinned. "Didn't think I knew dat word did, ya huh?"

         "You are a constant source of amazement, Ray," Fraser admitted, fondly.

        Actually, Ray's knowledge of literature and poets was very near Fraser's own. Perhaps the detective had merely forgotten what he knew, once he became a cop, or perhaps Ray had just chosen not to show that side of him; he seemed to prefer to play the idiot at times.

         Elaine regarded them curiously, obviously they had both grown much closer, but in a different way then before. Ray seemed much more open to shocking people and Fraser seemed to delight in provoking his friend to do so.

         "I…" she gaped at them for a moment before regaining her composure.

         "Com'ahn, Elaine," Ray encouraged. "Before we die of waitin', here."

        Elaine smiled and continued. "Well, the way Dawson was talking, at first it was faltering, then it was bordering on…" she searched for the right word.

         "Obsessive?" Fraser offered and she nodded gratefully.

         "Exactly," she confirmed. "Anyway, I ended the date as soon as proper etiquette would allow and he drove me home. He didn't try anything, which rather surprised me, but he did try to get my promise to see him for lunch the following day. I told him I would be working through lunch and he suggested dinner. I told him I'd call him."

         "Which you didn't," Ray reflected.

         Elaine shook her head in conformation. "No ,but he did call me, several times a day both at work and leaving messages on my phone," she stated. "At first I just erased the messages. A few times I answered the phone and told him straight out I wasn't interested and to stop calling." She sighed. "That was when the gifts started. Again I started throwing them away but he wouldn't stop leaving them and he wouldn't stop calling me."

         "Why didn't you tell anyone?' Fraser inquired.

         "Well, at first I really thought the guy was just being persistent," she answered, honestly. "I've had a few of those and they usually took the hint after a week or so. However, Dawson didn't get the picture, if anything he got worse. I know how the system works, Fraser. The gifts were non-threatening, not even sexually suggestive. Sometimes it was flowers, or candy, little trinkets, jewelry or an assortment of fruit. They weren't evidence that the man was planning anything nefarious, just that he was…well… thoughtful."

         "Great," Ray muttered scowling. "He's not a dangerous psychopath, just a considerate one." He shook his head. "You should've taken out yer gun and shot him, Elaine."

        Elaine smirked. "According to IA I did, Ray," she reminded.

        Ray was immediately repentant. "I...I didn't mean it like dat…I…" he stammered, remorsefully.

        Elaine chuckled and waved away his apology. "It's okay," she assured. "I know you didn't mean it that way."

        Ray seemed relieved with her forgiveness, but he still held the look of contrition.

         "What about the phone calls, Elaine?" Fraser inquired. "Did you save the tapes?"

        She nodded. "Yes, but the messages on the answering machine were the same, just cheerful notes, no threats or anything," she remarked. " He'd ask me how my day was, when we might get together again, say he was thinking about me and to give him a call."

         "What about when you answered the telephone?" Fraser questioned. "Did his attitude change?"

        Elaine shrugged. "He was more insistent and claimed he couldn't live without me," she explained. "He was adamant that I give him another chance, saying that he had to see me. The usual crap. A few times he came close to making a threat, but he never crossed that line."

        Fraser frowned and nodded. "Did you ever feel your life was in danger, Elaine?" he asked.

        Elaine nodded. "I was starting to, yes," she admitted. "He was getting out of control I think. He started showing up on my patrol route all the time. If I went out for a drink with friends, he'd show up and try to talk to me. Usually I ended up leaving. He would call at all hours of the night and day when I was home and I know he was watching my apartment and had been in my apartment."

         "Why didn't you get him on breaking and entering?" Ray questioned.

         "Because, I had no proof," she replied with a hint of anger in her voice. "I don't know how he was getting in because the door and windows hadn't been forced."

         "Then, how did you know he was here?" Ray continued.

         "The occurrences were blatant enough for me to notice, but not enough for me to have them investigated. I mean, someone could easily say I planted some of the things myself," she explained.

         "What sort if occurrences?" Fraser inquired.

          "Little packages left for me on the table," Elaine explained. "Things that were moved out of place so only I would notice."

        Ray seemed posed to ask another question and Fraser interceded.

         "If there was no sign of an intruder and nothing was taken or broken, the police tend to dismiss foul play, Ray," he explained.

         Ray nodded, as he finally understood. He frowned. "That's pretty stupid, Ben," he decided and Elaine chuckled. "I thought cops were supposed to be smart? What about protectin' the good guys?"

         "It seems to be more about politics than justice, anymore Ray," Fraser informed. "Departments worry about infringing on a person's civil rights. Without solid, physical proof, that would be setting themselves up for a possible lawsuit for harassment or wrongful arrest."

         "Are you tellin' me," Ray began, concerned, "Dat the cops won't arrest someone they suspect of committing a crime?"

         "Not without hard evidence, Ray," Elaine supplied, grimly. It felt strange talking to the detective about the law that he used to know so well. "Nowadays, the lawyers can charge an officer with violating a person's rights if they try to even question someone without literally having their hands on the smoking gun."

         "What about the people dis guy supposedly robbed or killed?" Ray demanded, angrily. "Who protects them? What about how he violated their rights?"

         "Unfortunately the victims get placed on the back burner," Elaine sighed. "The criminals get rich lawyers to defend them."

          "Dat sounds like the crooks have more rights than the victims!" Ray charged, appalled.

            Elaine nodded. "It's not perfect, Ray," she agreed. "It's not always fair, but it’s the system we have and we have to make do."

        Ray bolted from his chair and started to pace.

        Fraser and Elaine were startled at the passion the conversation seemed to evoke in their friend.

         "That's messed up," Ray declared. "Of all the stupid, immoral, useless…"
 

         "Ray. Ray. Ray?" Fraser tried again, reaching out to physically touch his partner, who suddenly seemed in some kind of limbo. "Ray!"

         "What?" Ray asked, glancing at Fraser, as if seeing him for the first time.

         "Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser inquired. "You looked far away."

         "Would you like to lie down, Ray?" Elaine suggested, rising to her feet, concerned. "You could use my bedroom and…" She was startled when he turned on her.

         "Don't do dat!" Ray warned. "I hate people sendin' me to my room. Why can't I hear what ya have to say? What's the problem here? I want to help too."

         "All…alright, Ray," Elaine agreed holding her hands up defensively, surprised by his sudden vehemence. "I only thought you might like to rest. I'm not hiding anything from you."

        Ray shook his head and turned away for a minute to compose himself. He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his knuckles down the side of his face. "I'm sorry, Elaine," he offered chagrined. He settled back down on the sofa.

        Elaine noticed his fingers fidgeting with the chain around his neck. She watched him pull the St. Christopher's medal from beneath the collar of his shirt.

        "I don't know why I snapped at ya," Ray muttered. "I'm really sorry."

        Fraser's hand immediately started to rub Ray's back and Ray leaned forward, with his head in his hands, encouraging the reassuring gesture.

         "Do you need some aspirin, Ray?" he offered, gently, but Ray shook his head. "Are you sure?"

        Ray smirked, as he reverently caressed the charm between his fingers. "Yes Mum, I'm sure," he retorted and sat back against the cushions, patting Fraser's thigh appreciatively. "I'm good, Ben, really."

         Elaine watched the friendly exchange curiously; noticing that Fraser had lost some of his rigidity. He seemed more affectionate and didn't seem to be so uncomfortable at being touched, at least with Ray. She wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Ray was calling his partner Ben now.

         She decided to dismiss further speculation before her imagination ran away with her. All she really cared about was that the two men seemed to have repaired whatever differences they had, and they seemed more comfortable together. She settled back in her own chair and continued to relate her tale.

          "I knew that I couldn't get a restraining order against him unless I thought my life was in danger and frankly he seemed more annoying then dangerous."

         "What about Clark's version of the story?" Ray asked, his tone changing slightly to something more familiar. "He said you were the one dat made the call to go to the store."

        Elaine shook her head. "I don't know why he said that," she returned, worried. "Joe has been a good partner, a little eccentric, but a great guy. He told me the call came over the radio."

         "Did you check with dispatch?" Fraser inquired.

        Elaine nodded. "They claim no such call was issued, which backs up Joe's story," she replied. "But he did tell me that it came in, why else would I even go to that store?"

         "According to Leftenant Welsh they are assuming you went there to kill Dawson," Fraser stated.

         Elaine's lips thinned, angrily. "Look, Dawson was a weasel and a pain in the ass for me, but I didn't want to kill him."

         "Any reason why your partner would lie?"

         "No, and he feels so badly about what’s happened, but he keeps saying he's telling the truth," Elaine he admitted, quietly. "I don't know what to do guys."

         "Don't worry, Elaine," Ray assured. "I don't know what I'm doin' but Ben does, don't ya buddy?"

        Fraser smiled. "I am sure we can find the truth and clear up this misunderstanding, Elaine," he offered and she smiled at them gratefully.
 
 

         Ray slipped beneath the yellow police tape and used his credit card to jimmy the lock on the back door of the jewelry store.

         "This is technically breaking and entering, Ray," Fraser whispered, even as he joined his partner inside.

         "So?" Ray asked grinning. "If we get caught I'll say the Mountie made me do it."

        Fraser's lips twitched and he quickly pulled them into a disapproving scowl, as Ray proceeded to look around the darkened area of the store with his flashlight. There were no windows back here, and it was obviously some sort of office or store room.

         "Where did you learn to open a door like that, Ray?" Fraser inquired as he also began to investigate the premises, being careful not to disturb the chalk outline on the floor, where Dawson died. He had assumed Ray learned it at the academy. "You never have told me."

        Ray shrugged. "I used to like to break into the high school at night," he admitted and found a small corner lamp to switch on to give them added light. He chuckled at Fraser's appalled expression to his confession. "What? I didn't vandalize it or anything."

         "Why did you break in, then Ray?" Fraser pressed, as he surveyed the walls closest to the crime scene, looking for additional bullet holes.

        Ray shrugged sheepishly.  "No reason, just bein' stupid," he evaded, as he glanced through the drawers of the desk. He didn't really know what they were looking for, but Fraser had said they needed proof that Dawson was the one stalking Elaine and not the other way around. Since they learned that Dawson was married, he doubted the man made the calls to Elaine from his home.

         "I told you about the incident with the gas can and boomerang, Ray," Fraser reminded and Ray grinned. "Fair is fair."

         "Pushy, pushy," Ray replied as he knelt and checked under the desk. Again he wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was driven by an instinct he couldn't explain. "It was just, stupid. Like I said."

        Fraser made a dissatisfied noise and Ray sighed as his fingers explored the underside of the desk. "Well, remember I told ya I wanted ta be a teacher? Well, I used to sneak in and pretend ta teach a class. I'd write stuff on the blackboards and give homework assignments to a pretend class, stupid stuff like dat."

         "I don't think that is stupid at all, Ray," Fraser remarked, as he moved to the adjacent wall. "There is nothing wrong with looking forward to a chosen career, I imagine your teachers would have been flattered, however I think breaking and entering would have been frowned upon."

         A noise toward the front of the store, a little bell jingling over the door, alerted them that they were no longer alone. Ray knocked his head against the desk trying to get out, as Fraser moved to switch off the lamp.

         "Stay there, Ray," Fraser whispered, as the room was plunged into darkness once more.

         The detective crawled back under the desk; glad it was reasonably spacious and could accommodate his long legs easily. He held his breath, as the lights came on once more and two people entered the back room. Ray's heart was in his throat and he tried not to move or make a sound as a pair of size twelve black boots appeared right next to the desk, joined by a pair of woman's high heels.

         "Are you sure it's still here?" the woman demanded, agitated. "The cops have been all over this place. What if they found it?"

         "They wouldn't even be looking for it," the man determined and Ray could hear the desk drawer being opened and closed and things shuffled around above him. "It's got to be here."

         Ray started to shake his head as a familiar scene started to prick at his consciousness.  Not now! He didn't want to zone out, he wanted to hear what they were looking for. Suddenly, he was in a Mountie suit, hanging from the rafters in some kind of warehouse.

         "Hurry up!" the woman's voice insisted, bringing Ray back to the present.

        He leaned closer, careful not to make any noise. His gaze traveled, idly, from the woman's small silver anklet and further up the shapely calf. Not bad, not as nice as Stella's, but not bad, he surmised silently. The man was wearing just regular boots, as far as Ray could tell, steel toed, black; nicely polished and dark pants.

         "Got it!" the man suddenly growled.

         Ray flinched when something slammed onto the top of the desk. He heard a noise that sounded like paper tearing then the light dimmed and the two left the room.

         "Ray?" Fraser's voice called out a few minutes later and the room brightened again.

         Ray started to crawl out from under the desk. Again he hit his head and this time something above him popped open. "Hey, Ben, look at dis!" he whispered excitedly and the Mountie knelt beside him. It was a secret compartment, just about two fingers wide, and it held a little micro cassette tape.

         "Excellent work, Ray," Fraser encouraged, also excited, as they retrieved the tape and he helped Ray to his feet.

         "Stay awake for me, Ray," Fraser insisted "I've asked you to use your head on occasion, Ray-but I didn't mean as a battering ram. "

         Ray shook his head clear of the taunting words and grinned. "Dat's usin' my head, hey?" he reminded and Fraser smiled. "Did ya see who they were?"

         "I regret that the only place I could find to hide was in the closet, Ray," Fraser returned displeased. "I did not see them. Did you?"

         "Saw their feet, dat's about it," Ray admitted, also disappointed, as he glanced at the desk. He saw the note pad lying there and a light bulb went off in his head. "I wonder…" He grabbed the pad and a pencil from the cup on the corner of he desk.

         "What is it, Ray?" Fraser asked as the detective started lightly rubbing the paper with the lead.

         "Just a hunch, Fraser," Ray returned, intent on what he was doing. Soon words began to form and the two men exchanged a meaningful glance.

         "Let's get out of here, Ray," the Mountie suggested as his partner tore off the slip of paper and placed it in his pocket.

         Once outside, Ray started to laugh as they slipped into the GTO, where Dief was waiting.

        Fraser smiled and regarded him curiously as Ray pulled into the street. "What is so funny, Ray?"

         "Dat was so cool!" he giggled and Fraser's smile widened. "My heart was in my throat and I thought I was gonna piss myself! I thought they were gonna find me, but it was…It was scary but kinda exciting too. What a way ta live! Is dat what it's like to be a cop, Ben?"

         "Sometimes, Ray," Fraser admitted, delighted at his friend's enthusiasm. "Sometimes."
 

         At Elaine's apartment, later that morning, they listened to the tape and were surprised to find that it was a recording of Elaine's voice. Obviously, Dawson had taped their conversations and saved anything the female officer had said during their calls.

         "Dis is evidence, right?" Ray suggested. "It proves he was callin' ya and harassing ya."

        Elaine and Fraser exchanged a depressed look.

        "What?" Ray demanded.

         "All it proves is that I was in contact with him, Ray," Elaine replied, regretfully. "And we can't use it as evidence because you and Fraser obtained it illegally. They won't let it be admitted as evidence."

        Ray swore. "God damnit! What do we have to do here?"

         "We just have to keep looking, Ray," Fraser offered. "I am sure we'll find some evidence we can use."

          "What about the note on the paper?" Elaine asked. "It's obviously important to someone or they wouldn't have come looking for it."

         "It's fer an appointment tomorrow," Ray sighed, dropping into the closest chair. "I don't see what it has to do with you, but those two people dat were in the store seemed pretty eager to find it, y'know?"

         "Perhaps we should keep this appointment, Ray," Fraser suggested. "See who shows up?"

        Ray nodded. "Yah, but dat's not until tomorrow, what do we do until then?"

         "Talk to Dawson's widow?" Fraser suggested. "Perhaps, see if she suspected her husband was seeing other women."

         "Then, let's go do dat," Ray agreed and rose to collect his jacket. "Then we'll have a convo with Clark; somethin' about his statement doesn't ring true."

         "I don't know if you guys should do that," Elaine cautioned as she walked them to the door. "If IA gets wind of it…"

         "Let me deal with da suits, Elaine," Ray decided and Elaine was taken aback by his sudden remark. "You try to think of anything else about that day dat might help us figure out what's really goin' on."

         "Let me come with you at least?" she suggested. "Joe might be more cooperative with me there."

          Fraser nodded and retrieved her coat for her.
 
 

         They stopped at the 2-7 first, because when Fraser had called to check in with the Lieutenant, Welsh had requested an audience with them. They headed toward the Lieutenant's office, as Stella Kowalski exited one of the interview rooms.

        Stella saw Ray and her whole face brightened as she moved toward him. "Ray!" she exclaimed in delight, throwing her arms around him and giving him a big hug, impressed at how nice he looked in his dark blue sweater and matching denims. She was startled when he didn't return her affection, but instead pulled away from her.

         "Stella," Ray returned, curtly.

          Stella frowned.  "When…when did you get back?" she asked, disconcerted by his coolness. "Have you seen Mom and Dad yet? How have you been?"

         "Look, I can't talk now," Ray insisted and started to move away. "I got stuff to do."

         "Ray!" she called after him.

        Ray paused in mid stride and waited for her to catch up with him again.

        "Do you…have you remembered anything, Ray?" she asked.

        Ray's eyes narrowed on her and she took a step back alarmed. "Oh yah, Stella," he growled, keeping his voice low. "I remember why we're no longer married."

        Stella gasped.

        "How could ya do it, Stell? How could you betray me like dat? I loved you so much; maybe more than ya deserved. But, I learned my lesson, I won't make dat mistake again."

         Stella shook her head. "Ray I…I don't understand…" she stammered confused. "What…what do you think I did? W…whatever it is I…"

        Ray took another step away from her. "It doesn't matter, Stella," he declared and waved his left hand at her, pointedly. "Ya can't hurt me anymore. I'm a free man and I intend to stay dat way. Now do us both a favor and leave me the hell alone!"

         Fraser and Elaine gaped at their friend, having witnessed the exchange, as Ray brushed past them and strode toward Welsh's office.

        Stella Kowalski was doing her best to maintain her composure, but her eyes were suspiciously moist and her hands were trembling as she smoothed out her skirt. She turned on her heel, after glaring at Fraser accusingly, and stormed off.

         Fraser and Elaine quickly followed Kowalski into Welsh's office, where Ray was already informing the Lieutenant of what they had found. Welsh did not ask where they found the cassette and Ray didn't volunteer that information.

         "What did you need to see us about, Leftenant?" Fraser inquired, closing the door behind them.

         "We have another little problem, gentlemen," the Lieutenant sighed, then included Elaine. "And lady."

        Elaine smiled as Ray perched on the corner of the Lieutenant's desk and played with one of the pens from the cup holder, clicking it in an annoying rhythm.

        Welsh snatched the pen away from the detective and tossed it back on his desk, before lowering himself into his chair. "Seems Mrs. Dawson is bringing a wrongful death lawsuit against Elaine for the death of her husband."

        Ray grinned and grabbed a pencil to twirl through his fingers, instead.

         "Oh great!" Elaine threw her arms up and dropped down on the sofa. "What next?" A knock at the door prevented Welsh from answering her, and they all glanced over as Francesca Vecchio entered with Stella Kowalski.

         "Ray!" Francesca exclaimed and went to hug him.

        Kowalski didn't move from his perch, but accepted the hug. His gaze met Stella's and she was the first to look away.

         Ray smiled at Francesca. "Hi, Frannie," he returned, softly. "When ya gonna cook dat dinner fer me?"

        Francesca brightened. "You name the day and I'll be there, bro," she assured smiling.

         Welsh cleared his throat. "Is there a reason you came in here, Miss. Vecchio?" he demanded.

        Francesca glanced at him perplexed, before she remembered the file in her hand. "Yah, here's the file you wanted," she offered absently, dropping the file on his desk and turning her attention back to Kowalski. She caressed the soft wool of Ray's sweater, curious. "This is a new look. I like it, ya gonna keep it?"

         "Ya like it?" Ray confirmed and she nodded, missing the look, he shot Stella. "Then, I'll keep it."

         "Cool," Francesca grinned. She ran her fingers over the spikes of his hair. "This is nice too, but I prefer ya the way it was."

        Ray grinned. "I'll grow it back," he assured.

         Stella finally stepped forward. "Perhaps you should confine your affections for your 'brother' until after hours, Miss. Vecchio," she reminded curtly and Francesca cast her a mild glare. Stella ignored her and addressed Elaine. "Officer Besbriss, I wanted you to know that we will do everything we can to clear you of these charges."

         "Thank you," Elaine returned, gratefully.

         Ray grunted. "Ooh, Stella's good deed fer the day. Whoopee," he retorted, sarcastically.

         Stella practically pushed Francesca out of the way to get a clear look at him. "What is your problem, Ray?" she demanded, angrily, though her eyes couldn't hide the confusion she was feeling at his behavior.

         Ray rose to meet her glare. "Me?" he returned moving off the desk and staring down at her. "I don't have a problem, Ms. Assistant State's Attorney."

        Stella stared at him with hurt in her eyes. Her voice lowered slightly. "Ray, why are you so angry?" she implored. "I thought we settled things? What did I do?"

        "You're a bitch, ya need another reason?" Ray retorted, fully prepared for the stinging slap she delivered to his cheek.

        Stella stared at him, appalled. "Ray I...I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."

        Instead of answering, Ray caressed his injured flesh and moved away from her.

        Stella saw the apology in his eyes, before he hid them from her.

         "You guys go ahead and talk shop," Ray suggested moving toward the door. "I wouldn't know what any of it means anyway. Ben can fill me in later."

         "Ray!"

         "Detective!" both Fraser and Welsh tried to call him back but he was already gone.

        The Mountie seemed torn between staying, to hear about Elaine's case, and going after his friend.

        Francesca made the decision for him. "Um…well you don't need me here either so I…I'll just go…um...too." she decided, patting Fraser's arm as passed, to let him know where she was going.

        He nodded at her gratefully.

         She caught up with Ray in the hallway and practically dragged him into one of the interview rooms.
"Hey!" he protested, almost smiling. "Ya want a career as a pro wrestler?"

        Francesca didn't even crack a smile, as she slammed the door and turned to glower at him, her hands on her hips.

        Ray leveled his hands up at her defensively. "You gonna read me my rights now?" he taunted, but the amusement never reached his troubled gaze. He turned from her and reached automatically for the pack of smokes in his coat pocket. He hadn't lit up since the night with Joyce, but he still carried them out of habit. He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a shaky hand; inhaling deeply.

         Francesca stared at him, but refused to show her surprise. She stepped forward and grabbed the butt from his lips, dousing it by tossing it into a cup of water that had been left there from a previous interview. "Ya can't smoke in here," she informed, coolly.

        "Sorry," Ray muttered and moved toward the door. "I'll go outside then."

        Francesca blocked his exit. "You don't remember me do, ya?" she demanded and Ray was so startled by the question he was unable to respond. She continued, undeterred. "I'm not stupid, Ray. I know you just said it to make me feel better and ya can't possibly remember me because you were never dis nice to me!"

         Ray stared at her. "I…you're mad, because I'm bein' nice to you?" he asked, bewildered. "I don't get it. If I was mean to ya before then I'm sorry…"

         "You weren't mean, Ray," Francesca dismissed, some of her fire dimming. "Not really anyway. It…you just were really good at the sibling rivalry thing, y'know?"

        Ray nodded, then shook his head confused.

        Francesca waved a hand at him. "Look, ferget about me for a minute, why are you bein' such a total jerk to yer ex all of a sudden?"

        Ray folded his arms across his chest defensively and leaned against the table scowling. "Why do you care?" he demanded. "She ain't yer ex."

         "No," Francesca agreed, "but she is yours and the Ray Kowalski I remember loved her dearly."

         Ray's lips thinned, angrily. "Dat was before," he retorted. "And I ain't the Kowalski you remember, so get over it."

         "Before what?" Francesca pressed, ignoring his other comment. "What did Stella do ta make you so mad at her? I've seen her treat you like trash in the past and ya never had a bad word to say about her."

         "Yah well, maybe I didn't know the score then," Ray defended.

         "Know what score?"

         "Look she's a…" Ray paused. He had been about to say whore, but he couldn't force the words past his lips.

        No matter how angry he was, how betrayed he felt, he couldn't say that about Stella. He could think it maybe, but he couldn't say it. He'd shocked himself by what he had called her in the Lieutenant's office.

        "Ferget it!" he refused.  "I do not need lessons from you on how to treat someone, Frannie. You treat Fraser like yer favorite piece of pie on the dessert cart. Ya think dat doesn't make him uncomfortable?"

         Francesca flushed. "This isn't about me and Fraser," she denied hotly. "It's about you acting like a…a… Brickhead!"

        Ray stared at her, confused. Body by Fisher - Brains by Mattel, he mused as he finally figured out what she meant. "A Blockhead?"

         "Block, brick, cement whatever!" she waved her arms at him frustrated. "You're acting like an ass and dat's not like you. Sure you can be a real jerk sometimes but you're never cruel, Ray."

        Ray suddenly pushed off the table and threw his arms wide, causing Francesca to step back, startled. "How do you know what I am?" he snarled. "You don't know me any better than those jokers out dere! I don't know me Frannie, so how da hell can you? I am sick of people makin' comparisons to who I was before. Stop telling me how to act, and what ta say. If I wanna yell at ya I'll yell at ya, if I wanna be friendly I will and if I wanna kiss you I'll…" Ray stopped suddenly as her eyes grew wide. He swallowed convulsively and moved toward the door, his eyes lowered. "I...I'll leave, dat's what I'll do." He finished but Francesca blocked his escape.

         "You…you really wanna kiss me?" she squeaked.

        Ray shook his head. "No, yes…I…I don't know," He stepped back and braced his hands on the table, his head lowered. "I don't know why I said dat, Frannie. I…I'm a little screwed up here and I…maybe I'm lonely." He shook his head again. Loneliness led to complications, to people like Joyce. "I dunno." He dropped into the chair and rested his head on his hands, bleakly. "I miss Stell."

        Francesca moved forward and tentatively placed an arm around his shoulders. "I know," she soothed gently. "But, why are you being so mean to her?"

        Ray shrugged. " I...I don't know I'm...I'm not tryin' ta be I just...She…she shouldn't have…" He couldn't say it. He couldn't admit that he hadn't been man enough to keep his wife from hoping into someone else's bed. "I suck."

         "No you don't," Francesca assured, crouching down beside him. "I understand you're mad because you guys are no longer married, ya didn't handle it real well before you lost yer memory. Ray, ya gotta move on and trashin' her isn't gonna make you feel any better. You're only hurting yerself, because you love her, ya big dope!"

        Ray smirked and turned his head toward her.

        Francesca observed the tears in his eyes and her heart went out to him.

         Ray lowered his eyes, ashamed. "She…she cheated on me, Frannie," he moaned. "How…how could someone…if you love someone you don't…I love her, Frannie. I love her with all dat I am and she...it wasn't enough fer her...maybe it was never enough. I wasn't enough ta keep...keep her faithful."
Ray shook his head again, as a knock sounded at the door.

        Francesca encouraged the person to enter and Fraser stepped inside.

        The Mountie regarded the scene solemnly, and noticed Ray was fiddling with the medallion around his neck. He wondered if the detective was even aware he was caressing the charm, for the old Ray Kowalski had never seemed particularly religious.

         Francesca was shocked by Ray's admission and at a loss what to say. She rose and looked toward Fraser, who indicated he would talk to Ray, alone. She nodded and leaned down to kiss the top of Ray's head affectionately, before leaving them alone.

        Fraser had heard Ray's despairing confession and he set his Stetson on the table and pulled up the other chair to sit next to his partner.  "Ray?"

        The detective continued to hide his face.

        "Ray, please look at me."

         "I screwed it up again, didn't I, Ben?" Ray asked, mournfully. "I can't tell night from day anymore, I don't know what's real."

         Fraser started to rub his back. "Tell me what you think Stella did, Ray," he requested quietly and so Ray did. Fraser listened silently, as his friend related the conversation he remembered with detective Dewey and of Stella kissing the Alderman on the steps of his house.

         "What am I gettin' wrong, here, buddy?" Ray whispered, tortured. "She did those things right? I can't be imagining it. She was goin' with dat guy."

         "She was seeing the Alderman, Ray…" Fraser began.

        Ray pushed back from the table, angrily. "I knew it!" he declared slapping his fist against the wall. "I knew she cheated on me! God damnit! I'm a fool!"

        Fraser rose and moved to stand beside him as Ray started hitting his head off the wall. Fraser quickly put a stop to that by twisting Ray around to face him and giving him a little shake. "Recite, Ray," he demanded, hoping one of the methods they had practice to control Ray's temper would finally work.

        Ray gritted his teeth and forced himself to uncurl his fists and not struggle. "God grant me the..." He shook his head. "God damnit!"

        "Ray!" Fraser scolded. He had chosen the Serenity prayer, because he noticed that Ray was always more calm and patient when he listened to Mrs. Baker recite it. "Com'on, you can do this, we practiced this. We'll say it together. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change..."

        "To change the things I can," Ray continued, obediently. "And the wisdom to..." He swallowed and lowered his eyes. "...hide the bodies of the people who piss me off."

        "Ray!" Fraser scolded in a bark of laughter. "That's not how it goes at all!"

        Ray started to smile, but it turned into a sob and he started to vibrate once again. "I'm such a screw up! God why can't I do anything right? Why couldn't I keep Stell....happy?"

        "Ray, you are wrong," Fraser insisted, struggling for the detective's attention. "Stella was seeing the Alderman after you two had already divorced. Her being unfaithful had nothing to do with your breakup."

        Ray paused and searched Fraser's eyes, finding the truth there, then lowering his own contritely. "So it wasn't even another guy, just me, she just didn't want to be with me." He pushed away from Fraser and once again leaned on the table. "I hate dis, Ben," he sighed dejectedly. "I hate bein' so mixed up on what I think I know and what's real."

        Fraser nodded and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder to lead him toward the door. "Then, you will just have to tell me every time you have a memory or you are unsure about something, Ray," he insisted. "Let me explain it before your imagination runs away from you again."

        Ray nodded defeated.

         They opened the door and almost walked into Stella. She immediately started to move away.

         Ray caught her arm. "Wait, Stell," he implored. "Can…can I talk to ya a sec?"

         Stella glared at him."Why," she demanded, coldly, "So you can insult me some more?"

        Ray shook his head. "No, just…please?"

         "Ray was confused about a memory he had with you and Alderman Orsini, Ms. Kowalski," Fraser offered helpfully. "I am afraid he thought that was why you and he divorced."

        Stella's eyes widened in shock and Ray seemed to shrink before her, awaiting her anger. "I'm sorry, Stell," he gushed. "I screwed it up in my mind. I didn't know what...I thought...." He lowered his eyes, ashamed. "God how could I think you'd do that, you'd never..."

        Ray was surprised when Stella threw her arms around him.

         "Oh Ray!" she cried joyously. "You remembered something? That's wonderful?"

        Ray met Fraser's gaze confused, before slowly returning the embrace. He expected her to be angry, at least slap him again, or something, but she just seemed happy that he'd had a memory; regardless of the problems it had caused.

         Ray pulled her back inside the room and Fraser closed the door and stood guard outside it, giving the couple privacy.

        Stella smiled and stepped back into her ex-husband's embrace.

        "I love you," Ray murmured into her hair. "I'm sorry I thought dat about you, sorry fer what I said."

         "I forgive you," Stella laughed hugging him even harder. "I love you too."

            Ray lifted his head to meet her gaze, his expression tragic. "Oh, Stell. I screwed up big time. I...I thought....I was so hurt and...and mad and...and I went out and I..." Ray swallowed the urge to shut up and run. He had to tell her, he had to be honest or it would tear him up inside. "I met...there was this woman...at a bar and...she...we...I just thought we'd talk Stell, I swear and...she...but we...and I..."

        "You had sex with her?" Stella finished, frowning.

        Ray stepped back and folded his arms around himself, ashamed. "I...I didn't mean fer it ta happen, Stell, I swear she...she came to me and...and I...I was hurt and...we...it was just one...just one time and I haven't...I'll never see her again."

        Stella stepped forward and captured his face in her hands, her expression kind. "She didn't steal anything did she?" she teased.

        Ray barked in a half laugh, but it turned into another sob. "I didn't mean it, Stell. I swear to God I didn't," he denied, pulling away from her touch and brushing angrily at his tears.

        "Ray," Stella began, carefully. "I'm not upset with you." That was a lie, she was crushed that Ray had made love to someone other than her, but she had to be fair. Stella had had a choice selection of male lovers the last couple of years herself. It wasn't Ray's fault that he couldn't remember that.

        "Ya should be," Ray muttered. "I betrayed you I..."

        "Ray," Stella insisted, again capturing his face and forcing him to meet her eyes. "We're divorced, lover, there's nothing wrong with you finding someone to...have a relationship with, casual or intimate. I just..." She frowned again. "Ray, were you careful?"

        Ray blinked. "I didn't hurt her, Stella," he protested, misunderstanding. "I'm not into dat, you know I'm always careful and..."

        Stella shook her head. Yes, she knew Ray was a gentle and considerate lover, that wasn't what she was concerned about. "No, honey," she amended. "I mean did you use protection? Did you use a condom? Did you..." She cringed at her next words. "Did you...perform oral sex on her, or she on you?"

       Ray stared at her aghast, as the color crept up his cheeks. "Wh...why are you askin' me that?" he
croaked in embarrassment. "I thought ya didn't care, Stell I thought...."

        "Ray, listen to me," Stella insisted. "I really don't want to know all the sordid details, but there
are...things that you have to be careful of now. Things that could be...transmitted."

        Ray seemed to relax slightly. "Oh, ya mean AIDS," he confirmed, relieved. "I learned about all dat at Mrs. B's., Stell. I mean I knew some of it from before, but we never really knew much about it then. She showed me some sites on the internet to look up information, it was one of the first things she showed me." He almost smiled. "I was careful, Stell...real careful, honest and she...the woman I...she was cool with that."

        Stella nodded and released the breath she had been holding. She patted his chest. "Good," she told him. "That's good, Ray. I just...you have to be careful anymore, it isn't as easy as it used to be...being with someone."

        "The only one I ever wanted to be with is you, Stella," Ray confessed, before he could stop himself. He lowered his eyes again. "I'm sorry but it...it's how I feel."

        "I know, Ray," Stella allowed, pulling him into her embrace once again. "I feel the same way."

         "That mean you'll marry me again?" Ray asked, hopefully.

        Stella moved back and smacked at his chest playfully, even as she blushed. "You're incorrigible," she decided still grinning.

        Ray grinned back. She didn't say no anyway, so maybe there's a chance. "Tell me all about it over dinner?" he suggested and she pretended to be angry with him.

         "What about your plans with Miss. Vecchio?" she accused, warily.

        Ray shrugged, sheepishly. "She says I gotta be mean to her, she ain't used to me bein' nice apparently," he explained.

         Stella's facade dropped. She smiled and stepped out of his arms. "Soon," she promised, reaching up to caress his cheek, before letting her palm drift across his sweater. "Wear this. It makes you look...edible."

         Ray flushed with pleasure and nodded.
 

         Fraser and Ray arrived at the Dawson home a short time later. Elaine  had been told, by Welsh, to go home. He didn't want IA thinking she was involved in any kind of investigation, regarding her case, no matter how unofficial it might be. As they exited the GTO Fraser suggested Ray should allow him to do the talking and he agreed.

        The Mountie knocked on the door and a tall, attractive brunette answered and peered at them curiously.

         "May I help you?" she inquired politely.

         Fraser nodded, removing his hat in deference to her. "Yes, Ma'am," he agreed. "I am Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted police and this is my partner Detective Vecchio."

        Ray showed her his identification, but she barely glanced at it, she seemed preoccupied.

        Fraser continued. "Are you Mrs. Cynthia Dawson?"
 
         "Yes, I am," she agreed. "How may I help you?" she frowned slightly. "I'm afraid I don't give out money at the door, but if your charity or what was it…Mounted policemen? If they would like to send me a letter regarding your cause I will give a donation."

         "We aren't looking for money, Mrs. Dawson," Fraser assured, quickly. "We would like to speak to you about your husband, if we may?"

        Again she scowled, then shrugged, and stepped aside to allow them entry. "Are you friends of his?" she inquired as she led them into a spacious living area. "I don't recall him having mentioned you, but then, my Mike kept to himself a lot…"

         "We do not wish to deceive you, Mrs. Dawson," Fraser offered, kindly. "We were not acquainted with your husband, but we are investigating his death. We are very sorry for your loss."

         "I thought you said you were both from Canada?" she questioned, suspiciously.

         "I apologize if you misunderstood." Fraser offered. "Detective Vecchio is with the Chicago police department and I am his unofficial partner. Although, I have no jurisdiction in Chicago…"

        Cynthia interrupted. "Then, why are you here?" she demanded and Fraser quickly explained.
 
         "Ah, well, I first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's killer and for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, I've remained attached, as liaison with the Chicago police department."

        Mrs. Dawson shook her head. "No, I mean why are you here talking to me, Constable?" she amended. "I could care less why you are still in Chicago."

        Fraser nodded curtly. "Of course, please forgive me," he returned, quickly. "We wished to ask you some questions, that is all."

        She nodded and moved to the small bar in the corner to pour herself a soda water. "Would you gentlemen like anything?" she offered and they both declined. She moved back and settled on the small loveseat, indicating they sit on the sofa opposite. "I've already told the police everything I know about that day and that woman. I don't see what more help I could be to you."

        The telephone rang in the hallway and she excused herself to answer it, leaving the two men alone for a moment.

        Ray turned to Fraser. "Are you ever gonna get around to actually askin' a question, Ben, or do we have to use mental telepathy?" he demanded, sourly.

         Fraser shook his head, surprised at his friend's impatience. "We don't wish to offend her, Ray," he reminded quietly. "Especially since our visit is unofficial and she really isn't required, by law, to tell us anything."

         "No, I understand dat," Ray agreed. "But if you keep up with the honesty bit she'll find out we're here unofficially and you'll blow our chance."

         "Ray," Fraser began, mildly. "Procedure dictates that…"

         "I know the damn procedure, Fraser!" Ray snapped, suddenly, then his eyes widened as he realized that he did know how to interview a witness. His voice lowered to a bare whisper and his eyes brightened with wonder and excitement. "I do know it, Ben. I know what to do!"

        Fraser stared at him in shock, but the return of Mrs. Dawson hindered his chance to reply. He and Ray stood politely at her approach.

         "Now, where were we, gentlemen?" she inquired.

         Ray spoke first. "We hate to be a nuisance to you, Ma'am," he offered kindly, in the soft, cajoling tone Fraser had often heard the detective use when he was leading up to something. Sometimes honey was a better bait than vinegar and the detective had not lost his touch. "We just need to ask you a few questions, I'm afraid they're rather personal, but then we'll be out of yer hair."

         "All right," Mrs. Dawson agreed, obviously surprised at the sudden change in the blond, who hadn't said a word earlier.

         "Was your husband an alcoholic?" Ray inquired and Fraser hid his surprise well.

        Mrs. Dawson did not and she was slightly rattled.

        Ray settled beside her and patted her hand comfortingly. "It's okay. I noticed dat you have a fully stocked bar, but no liquor, only soda and seltzer water."

         "I…yes, Mike did drink heavily," she admitted biting her lip. "I threw it all out when he…when he died. I couldn't stand to look at it anymore."

         "He was very controlling, wasn't he?" Ray pressed, gently.

          Cynthia nodded. "He…he was particular about how he wanted things, yes," she agreed, tugging her blouse a little straighter. "What does all of this have to do with him being killed?"

         "We're just trying to ascertain what would be normal behavior for your husband, Mrs. Dawson," Fraser assured, catching on to where Ray was headed with his questioning. "If he did prefer things a certain way, done at a certain time and so forth."

         Cynthia stared at him and wet her lips, nervously."Mike really just kept to himself a lot," she said again, obviously uncomfortable.

         "We noticed that your husband's store hours are from ten to six every weekday and noon to six on Saturday." Fraser commented. "Did Mr. Dawson often go into the store on a Sunday when it wasn't open?"

         "No, not really," Cynthia admitted after a considerable pause. "Unless he had a shipment coming in, but then they came every Wednesday and Saturday evening, so he would stay late. I never knew him to go to the shop on Sunday, because that's his golf or fishing day and he would be gone most of that day."

         "So there was really no reason for him to be in the store that day, dat you know of?" Ray confirmed and she shook her head. "Was he home in the evenings, most nights?"

         "Yes," Cynthia acknowledged. "He would usually go straight into his study after supper and not come out until it was time for bed," She grimaced. "Then he would usually be drunk."

        Fraser and Ray exchanged a curious glance.

         "Did your husband keep a ledger for the store, Mrs. Dawson?" Fraser inquired.

        Cynthia glanced at him startled. "Yes, I believe so," she admitted. "It would be in his study. I fail to see what any of this has to do with my husband's death."

         "We are trying to establish a motive, Ma'am," the Mountie offered.

        Cynthia frowned. "They already have the motive," she declared, suspiciously. "That woman officer shot him, because she was in love with him and he refused her advances."

         "That may not be the case, Mrs. Dawson," Fraser insisted as the tinkling of the doorbell sounded around them. "We believe that Officer Besbriss is being framed for your husband's murder and we are merely trying to find the true perpetrators of the crime."

        Her eyes narrowed as the doorbell sounded again. "Excuse me," she requested. Both men rose politely as she went to answer it

         "Crap," Ray hissed. "She's not gonna let us see dat ledger, Ben."

         "Perhaps we can still convince her, Ray," the Mountie offered as Mrs. Dawson returned with another woman, a blond amazon, wearing a dark blue slack suit. Neither looked happy.

         "You have no right to be here," the taller woman informed. "My client has given her statements and unless you are part of the official investigation, which I know you are not, you will leave immediately or I will press charges of harassment."

         "And you are?" Ray retorted, unimpressed.

         "Ruthie Jones, Mrs. Dawson's attorney," she introduced, coolly. "I've instructed my client to speak to no one, since she is suing Officer Besbriss for the wrongful death of her husband."

         "Elaine didn't kill your client's husband!" Ray snapped. "And if she did it was an accident or in self defense."

         "Mrs. Dawson has nothing more to say to either of you," Jones insisted. "Leave now or I'll have you arrested for trespassing and violating my client's civil rights."

         "Ah, arrest yerself," Ray retorted.

         Ray moved past her toward the door. He paused and turned back toward them, to capture Cynthia Dawson's gaze. She looked confused and worried; she didn't know what was going on, only what her lawyer told her.

         "We are sorry about yer husband's death," Ray offered, again. "But shouldn't you at least meet the woman whose life you're about to change? Don't take you're lawyer's word on who she is, meet with her. You'll see the truth."

         "Leave now, Detective," Jones warned.

         Ray had the urge to reach across and smack her smug face. "Ya know, you remind me of my eighth grade gym teacher," he commented. "Only he'd probably looked better in dat outfit."

        Ruthie Jones glared at him and Ray turned away from her, grinning. He allowed Fraser to proceed him through the door.

         "That went well," Fraser commented off hand, as they headed for the GTO.

        Ray smirked. "Jones needs ta get laid," he decided.

        Fraser gaped at him in disapproval as they slid inside the vehicle.

        "What?" Ray defended, catching the Mountie's look. "I've seen crossbows dat aren't strung that tight."

         "Really, Ray," Fraser scowled, even as his lips twitched, suspiciously. "I'm truly not sure if I approve of this scandalous side of you."

        Ray grinned, undeterred, and started the engine. "Yah, but ya love me," he confirmed and Fraser allowed his smile to break through. "I'm irresistible."

         "That you are, my friend," Fraser sighed, defeated and Ray chuckled.
 

         "Look, " Joe Clark insisted leaning back against his chair. "I'm only talkin' to you guys because I want to help Elaine. IA told me not to talk to anyone about dis."

         Ray and Fraser had cornered the officer inside a small café, during his dinner hour. He was a tall man with dark red hair and a boyish face.

         "We appreciate that you want to help, Officer Clark," Fraser offered, amiably. "We are just concerned why your story and Elaine's seems to differ so much."

        Clark shrugged and took a bite of his hamburger. "I can only say what happened," he insisted. "I don't know why Elaine's lyin' about the reason we checked out dat jewelry store. She's been stressed lately. Maybe if she had told me what was goin' on, I could've helped and she wouldn't have done what she did."

         "Elaine didn't do anything," Ray growled emphatically, from his position opposite the other officer. "She may have been under a little pressure, but she still knows how ta be a cop and she still goes by da book. Now you tell me why da hell we should believe yer side of the story."

         "It doesn't matter if you believe it or not," Clark reminded calmly. "Dat's fer IA to decide, and besides it's da truth." He dropped his food back on the plate. "Look, I didn't want to rat on Besbriss, she's my partner. But, they were leanin' on me pretty heavy and I had ta tell the truth."

         "How long was Elaine in the coffee shop that day?" Fraser inquired as Ray continued to glare at the man.

         "I dunno," Clark replied. "Probably just a few minutes, but when she came back she didn't have any coffee, so I dunno."

         "And when she returned, that was when she mentioned suspicious activity at the jewelry store?" Fraser surmised and Clark nodded.

         "Yah, so we went and checked it out."

         "Why didn't you call for backup?" Ray demanded.

         "Elaine told me we didn't have time," Clark insisted and Ray frowned.

         "You didn't have time to say two words into a radio?" he challenged.

         "Look, she seemed upset and said it was urgent, so I went," Clark replied. "She's my partner, I had to back her up."

         "So you just followed her there?" Ray pressed. "You heard shots, ya went inside and what?"

         "Read the report!" Clark snapped. He'd had enough and he rose from the booth to stand nose to nose with Kowalski. "I don't care who you think you are, but Elaine's my partner and I didn't do dis to hurt her."

         "Oh yah, lying was really a big help to her," Ray snapped, not backing down.

        Fraser could sense the hostility growing between them and he stepped in.  "Perhaps, we should just step back a moment, gentlemen," he suggested. "We are, after all, in this to help Elaine."

        Neither Clark nor Kowalski showed signs of hearing him and he moved to stand between them.

         "I find out yer involved in dis Clark and yer ass is mine," Ray warned pointing at him menacingly.

         "I am involved, Vecchio," Clark growled, not the least intimidated by the detective's posture. "I'm da one who got Elaine in dis mess and I wish ta God I'd kept my mouth shut!"

         "Thank you kindly for your assistance, Officer, Clark," Fraser offered, grabbing his Stetson off the table and pulling Ray away from the other man. "We will be in touch if we learn anything."

        Clark nodded, but his eyes never left Kowalski's until Fraser had guided him outside.

         "Damnit, Fraser!" Ray swore and shrugged his partner off as they headed for the GTO. "Don't do dat!"

        Fraser smiled. He noticed that Ray tended to call him Fraser whenever he was angry or excited, and he wondered if the detective was aware his old habit had returned.

         "What should I have done, Ray?" he demanded mildly as they settled in the vehicle. "Let you kick him in the head?"

        Ray smirked. "It's a start," he opted.

        Fraser scoffed and dropped his Stetson on the dash. "I wouldn't think you'd fancy another trip to the hospital so soon, Ray," he taunted and the blond glared at him.

         "What's dat supposed to mean?" Ray challenged, starting the car and pulling out into the street.

         "Well, he easily had thirty pounds on you, Ray," Fraser commented. "It would have been a valiant struggle I am sure, but in the end you would have lost."

         "Dat's not buddies, Ben," Ray growled. "Yer supposed to have faith in me."

         "I have insurmountable faith in you, Ray my friend," the Mountie assured. "It is your fighting skills that I question."

         Ray was silent for a long moment and Fraser began to worry his teasing had actually offended his partner. He knew Ray could hold his own, in almost any odds. The detective's determination more than made up for any lack of ability he might have against a stronger, more skilled opponent. Kowalski's cat like grace served him well, because the American's stealth and agility was difficult for a larger opponent to match.

         "Ray?" Fraser queried tentatively, when his friend still hadn't responded. "Ray I was only teasing. I find you to be an admirable contender."

        Ray grinned and shot him a quick glance, before returning his eyes to the road ahead. "Hey, I took down a giant, not too bad fer a skinny little runt from Chicago," he commented.

         Fraser's eyes widened. "Ray!" he gasped excitedly. "You…do you remember…?"

         "I remember part of it, Ben," Ray admitted, still keeping his eyes on the road, which was slick with snow and had turned to slush from the salt trucks. "Not all of it, just pieces, but I remember we took him down." He smiled at the Mountie. "Together."

         "Oh, Ray," Fraser replied softly. "I am glad that you remember us being a team."

         "Me too, Benton buddy," the detective offered, as they pulled into the precinct's lot. He turned and pointed the tip of his finger at the Mountie. "Partners forever?"

        Fraser touched his finger to Ray's in a private, symbolic gesture of friendship. "Forever, Ray," he agreed smiling.

        They exited the vehicle and entered the station.

         "To bad ya ain't a woman, Frase," Ray commented as they neared his desk.

         "Why is that, Ray?" Fraser inquired, startled.

         "It'd be nice to feel, ya know...close like dis, with a woman," Ray realized that didn't sound quite right and continued before Fraser misunderstood. "I...I mean, to find a woman dat I could be real good friends with, as well as...udder stuff."

        Fraser nodded. "Ah, understood, Ray," he assured and Ray grinned relieved.

         "You always seem to know what I'm thinkin'," he stated,  "it'd save me a lot of hassle if I could find a woman dat could do that. Then I wouldn't have to worry 'bout screwin' things up with whatever came out of my mouth,"

        Fraser smiled. "I'm sure she's out there somewhere, Ray," he offered, amused. "Perhaps you should advertise for a psychic?"

        For some odd reason, the laughing image of Joyce filtered into Ray's mind. He cleared his throat and shook it away. "Har de ha ha, funny guy," he retorted. He shrugged out of his raglan, draped it over the back of his desk chair, and then proceeded toward Welsh's office. "You're a freak, Fraser."

         "But, you love me," Fraser reminded, as Ray had done him earlier.

        Ray grinned and knocked on the Lieutenant's door.

         "Come in!" barked Welsh and the two entered.

        The older man did not look happy and Ray was tempted to turn back around and come back later, but Welsh's hard gaze held both men, immobilized.

         "Er...hiya, Sir," Ray offered with forced cheerfulness, which only made Welsh scowl more. Now Ray understood what Fraser had been telling him about coming face to face with an angry mama or papa grizzly, Welsh looked ready to carve them into pieces.

         Then, he saw the reason for his superior's ire, when he came face to…well, chest with Ruthie Jones. Ray didn't mind tall women, but this one was at least six one or two and reminded him of Brigitte Neilson.

        Ray took his time raising his gaze to hers, a twinkle in his blue-green eyes. "Well, if it ain't Mrs. Kong," he remarked slyly. "Dey let ya outta yer cage in daylight?"

         Her dark, opal eyes glowered at him, but he just continued to stare up at her amused. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, trying to make himself a little taller, just to irritate her.

         "Do all of your detectives have the manners of a sewer rat, Lieutenant?" Jones questioned, her gaze never leaving Ray's. "Or is it just this one."

         "Just this one," Welsh and Fraser both responded.

        Ray grinned and had the gall to look bashful. "I'm a legend in my own right," he decided, coyly.

         "You will be an out of work legend if you even think about coming near my client again, Detective," Jones warned.

        Her hostility only proved to encourage Kowalski's mischievous attitude. "Is dat a threat, Counselor?" he inquired, innocently.

         "That's a promise, Detective," she assured, boldly. "I'll have you stripped of any remotely official credentials and writing parking tickets at the ball park.

        Again Ray rocked back on the balls of his feet, and shoved his hands in his pockets. He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Ooh, have me stripped will ya, " he grinned. "Yer gettin' me all excited, here Counselor." He continued to match her haughty stare, wiggling his head a little at her, mockingly.

        Jones was the first to break their contest and set her gaze on Welsh, who was watching the exchange with mild interest. "I trust you will take my words seriously, Lieutenant?" she challenged. "I do not want either of these two near Mrs. Dawson."

         "I hear you, Counselor," Welsh agreed, grimly.

         Ray folded his arms and leaned against the Lieutenant's desk to face Jones. "What color's da sky on yer planet?" he asked, curious.

        "Is that supposed to be funny, Detective?" Jones mocked.

        "No, that's supposed ta be a question, do dey not have grammar where you come from either?"

        Jones flushed. "I suppose you think you're being witty?"

        Ray shrugged. "Sarcasm is just one more service we offer here," he replied, calmly.

        Jones drew herself up to her full height. "Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you'd had
 enough oxygen at birth, Vecchio?"

        Welsh hid his chuckle behind a cough and Fraser pressed his lips together to keep them still.

        Ray simply smiled. "Does it hurt much?"

        Jones looked at him, perplexed. "Does what hurt." She should have known better than to give him such an opening.

        "Dat icicle ya got jammed up yer..."

        Fraser slapped his hand over Ray's mouth before he could finish, as Welsh shook with barely
contained laughter and Jones flushed in embarrassed fury.

        "Our apologies, Counselor," the Mountie offered, quickly. "I'm afraid Detective Vecchio is not
himself lately. He is merely upset over our friend's dilemma."

         Jones cast them both a deathly look, then glowered at Welsh. "Keep him on a leash, Lieutenant. I don't want to see him within five hundred feet of my client." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed from the office, almost barreling over Fraser, who had hurried to open the door for her.

         "Detective…" Welsh began in warning, having composed himself, finally.

         Ray grinned at him. "I think she likes me," he teased and Fraser struggled not to smile.

        Welsh was not impressed. "I am ordering you to stay the hell away from the Dawson woman," Welsh determined and again Ray grinned.

         "Is dat officially or unofficially, Sir?" he inquired.

          As usual with this detective, Welsh didn't know whether to laugh at Kowalski or reach across to smack the younger troublemaker for his insolence. He ended up smiling and shaking his head. He'd missed Ray, more than he'd realized and he was glad the blond seemed to be getting some of his own back.

        Welsh sighed. "Just stay out of Ms. Jones' way, gentlemen," he suggested gruffly. "She's a barracuda and will chew you up and spit you out."

        Ray chuckled and straightened from the desk. "With or without tarter sauce?" he asked.

         Fraser scowled at him disapprovingly. "It is hardly a laughing matter, Ray," he reminded, primly, as Francesca knocked on the door.

        Welsh waved her in impatiently. "Yes, Miss. Vecchio?" he sighed dropping into his chair, now that Jones had left.

         "There's a lady here ta see, Ray," she informed, after a slow appraisal of the Mountie holding the door for her. "Hiya Frase."

        Fraser blushed and nodded. "Francesca," he returned politely.

         "Who is it, Frannie?" Ray asked, ignoring her flirtation with his partner.

         "She didn't want to leave her name, just asked to see you," Francesca stated, her attention finally returning to the others in the room. "She's waiting in interview two."

         "Are we done, or is there more unofficial business we should know about, Sir?" Ray inquired sweetly and the larger man actually took a swipe at him, which he dodged easily.

         "Get outta here!" Welsh barked, but there was amusement in his voice, as the three scurried out of his office.

         Ray chuckled and followed Fraser toward the holding rooms. He put his hand on the first one they came to and Fraser automatically steered him to the other one. Hey, he couldn't remember everything. They were both surprised to find Cynthia Dawson seated at one of the tables, her arms wrapped around a pair of tall books.

         "Mrs. Dawson," Ray greeted, not hiding his surprise. "Um…what can we do fer you?"

        She looked at him, then at the books that she had set gingerly on the table at their entrance. "I…I saw that Ruthie was here," she stated quietly, her eyes still lowered. "I…I didn't want her to see me. I…I know she wouldn't approve."

         "We won't tell her," Ray promised, kindly, as he pulled out the other chair next to her, and straddled it. "We want ta help."

        Cynthia nodded, as her fingers caressed the books before her. "I want you to know, I…I'm not a selfish or vindictive person," she insisted, softly. "I only want what's best for…for my family. My husband's death came as a…a shock."

         "We understand, ma'am," Fraser offered. "We want to see justice served as well, by putting the true perpetrator in jail."

        Cynthia finally met their gaze. "Ruthie says Officer Besbriss shot my husband," she defended. "Even the police say that is true."

         "Yes," Fraser agreed. "However, Officer Besbriss was investigating a possible break in and she claims she was shot at first."

         "My husband didn't even own a gun," Cynthia denied. "And if he did shoot at her, he probably thought she was burglar and that he had a right to defend himself and his property."

        Both men recognized the lawyer's spiel that had been programmed into the distraught woman's mind.

         "Officer Besbriss claims she called out and identified herself, and that was when she was fired upon," Fraser informed calmly.

        Cynthia again lowered her eyes, her confusion and distress evident. "Everyone has told me…" she shook he head firmly. "Was she sleeping with my husband?"

         "No," Ray denied. "She did have dinner with him, but he had asked her and she didn't know he was married."

         "Apparently she found him…a little too forward and so she stopped seeing him," Fraser explained gently.

         "But he didn't let it go, did he?" Cynthia sighed and both men tried to hide their shock.

        Fraser was the first to recover. "No, I am afraid he did not take her rejection well," he admitted and she nodded.

         "Have…did yer husband have a...problem with taking no fer an answer, Mrs. Dawson?" Ray questioned, keeping his tone as sympathetic as possible.

        Cynthia didn't answer his question at first, then when she spoke it was not in response to his query.
 "I...I don't know if I should be doing this," she admitted hesitantly, as she started to caress the books again. "I don't know if I believe you or…or who to believe. But I don't want to blame someone…someone who might be innocent for Mike's death."

        Cynthia continued to caress the books, reverently. Finally, she pushed the books toward them. "These are the store's ledgers. I don't know what you are looking for but here they are." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a long white envelope. "These…I found these in my husband's desk. I…I hope they can help you…" She bit her lower lip, as she pushed her chair back, and stood; the men quickly followed suit. "I want you to find the true person responsible for my husband's death as well."

         "Thank you kindly, ma'am," Fraser offered moving to open the door for her.

         "Yes, we appreciate dis, really and we will find the real criminal," Ray promised.

        Cynthia paused and turned to look at him. She surprised them by reaching for Ray, then pulling her hand back reluctantly. "Your friend is very lucky to have…" She met Fraser's gaze as well. "To have you looking out for her."

          Before they could respond, she had turned away and hurried out. Both men exchanged a glance, then closed the door, and returned to the table to look over the evidence left for them.

         "Oh man," Ray commented as he opened the envelope and pulled out photos of Elaine in various places. In some, she was in uniform, others were taken in her home. Obviously, the female officer was unaware she was being photographed. "Is dis good or bad, Ben?"

         "Well, it could substantiate Elaine's claim that Dawson was stalking her," Fraser admitted looking over the photographs. He especially found the ones of their fellow officer's apartment and bedroom disturbing. Taken through the window or with a telephoto lens, the idea alone was distressing. "However it would also be proof of a motive for Elaine to kill him, as they claim she did."

         "So, what do we do?" Ray asked, worried. "Do we show them to Welsh or keep 'em to ourselves?"

         "It is evidence in a crime, Ray," Fraser reminded. "No matter what the outcome might be, we would be charged with obstruction of justice if we didn't turn them over."

         "Yah," Ray agreed, not fully understanding that point but going along with it. Fraser knew more about this cop stuff than Ray did at the moment. "Wait, though...what if...it was evidence dat was given to us unofficially, Ben. Technically, we're not even on the case sooo…"

         "It doesn't matter, Ray," Fraser refused. "We have knowledge of the investigation. If we don't turn over the photographs it will be a suppression of evidence."
 

         "Okay," Ray agreed, shaking the voices from his head. "What about if we just delay showing them to Welsh?"

         "It is still suppressing…" Fraser protested and Ray cut him off.

         "Delaying, Fraser," he insisted. "Like in delaying the report of a dead body."

        Fraser stared at him confused for a moment then his lips twitched. "Ah," he agreed. "Understood." Ray's bits of memory seemed to be coming at the strangest times, but Fraser wasn't complaining.

         "Twenty-four hours, Ben," Ray suggested. "If we don't find anything else dat can sway the case to Elaine's side, we’ll show Welsh the pictures. But, give us a chance at least."

        Fraser nodded. "Agreed," he replied and Ray shoved the photos back into the envelope, then stuck them in his pocket.

        Fraser picked up one of the ledgers. "Let's see what we can find in here," he decided.

         Ray nodded and flipped open the second one. "Tell me what we're lookin' fer and I'll tell ya if I find it," he requested, staring at the columns of numbers, perplexed.

         "I was just curious to see if there was any difference in Mr. Dawson's store income during the weeks leading up to his death," Fraser supplied intent on the book before him.

         "You think he was playin' hooky from his shop to follow Elaine around?" Ray asked.

         Fraser nodded, pleased at how quickly Ray seemed to be catching on to things. "Something like that," he admitted, frowning, as he scanned the pages of red and black ink. "That would also give credence to Elaine's account of stalking. On the other hand…"

         "It could still prove to be a motive against her," Ray sighed and he flipped through the pages.
         "I'm afraid so," Fraser agreed.

         Both were silent for a time, Fraser settled in the chair at the table bent over his book, while Ray perched on the corner of the table with one leg swinging idly over the side.

         "Huh, dat's queer," Ray commented, after a moment.

         Fraser glanced up at him. "What is, Ray?" he inquired, curious.

         "Well, I dunno too much about books and accounting, Frase," Ray admitted, setting his ledger over the Mountie's book on the table. "But, those figures don't even make sense ta me. I mean it looks like he made almost the same amount every week, like he never had a bad day or a really good one."

         "Hmmm," Fraser studied the figures. His gaze rose to meet Ray's and the detective nodded in confirmation; they were on the same page.
 
 

         "The place was a front," Ray informed, tossing the ledgers onto Welsh's desk. He and Fraser had discussed what might have transpired at the jewelry store and that was what they had come up with. Elaine had stopped by the station and the three of them now stood in the Lieutenant's office. "Dawson was using the store as a front fer an illegal activity, I'd bet my job on it."

         "That may well be what yer doin', Detective," Welsh decided sardonically, as he indicated the books before him. "And just how did you get yer hands on these, or do I want to know?"

         "Mrs. Dawson brought them to us, Sir," Fraser supplied and Welsh's eyebrows rose in surprise. "She was the lady who wished to speak with Ray. I believe she is having second thoughts about her case against Officer Besbriss."

         "We didn't seek her out, Lieu," Ray defended, quickly. "She came ta us, so ya can tell dat lipstick wearing orangutan it was all her client."

         Welsh grunted and glanced through the pages of the ledger that Ray had marked.

        Ray pulled out the paper he had retrieved from Mike Dawson's desk at the jewelry store yesterday. "This is an appointment set up for midnight tomorrow," he informed. "Someone else broke in while we were there yesterday and were real anxious to find dat note."

         "And how did you get dis?" Welsh frowned, snatching the paper from Ray's hand and holding it up to the light so he could make out the words better.

         "You don't want ta know," Ray grinned.

         Welsh cast him a stoic glare, before tossing the paper back at him. "Just when were ya planning on showing me dis bit of illegal evidence?"

         "We've been busy," Ray defended innocently; they had already given Welsh the micro cassette tape they had found.

        Again, Welsh grunted in disapproval. The Lieutenant in him warned that sending Ray out on something that could turn out to be dangerous was not a good idea. Especially when the detective still had no memory of any training he received as a cop. However, Welsh still believed what he told Kowalski that day at the bar, being a cop isn't about what you know or do, it's who you are. Kowalski had to remember some things, or he and Fraser never would have gotten this far in their investigation; Ray just wasn't aware that he remembered and that could be dangerous.

        He cleared his throat and addressed Fraser and Elaine. "Take Dewey and Huey and stake out the pier," he decided gruffly.

         "Greatness!" Ray agreed. "Thanks, Sir."

         "Vecchio!" Welsh called sharply and Ray remembered to turn. "You stay here and let the others handle it."

        "But, Sir, I...." Ray protested.

        "That's an order, Ray," Welsh warned, ignoring Fraser's sympathetic gaze at his partner. Granted Kowalski had worked hard on the case, but he didn't remember how to be a cop and he no longer carried a weapon. Welsh wanted to keep the blond alive and kicking awhile yet. "I'm not sayin' ya haven't done a good job, you have, but this isn't a game and if something goes down it will be with real bullets and real death, you get me?"

        Ray stared at him, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice almost too calm. "You think this is a game fer me, Lieu?" he asked. "Ya think I don't know dat if we screw up Elaine might go to prison fer the rest of her life? Ya think I'm playin' around here, pretendin' ta be someone I'm not?"

        "I never meant..." Welsh began.

        "Well, pretendin' to be someone else is what I'm good at," Ray continued, quietly. "You said so yerself, you told me dat."

        "I just don't want ya gettin' hurt, Ray," Welsh offered, cursing himself for ever letting it go this far, for allowing the detective to doubt his faith. "We gotta be careful here and..."

        "I'm always careful, Lieu," Ray insisted. " I don't wanna get shot either, I may be damaged but I ain't stupid. I'm trying my best here, Sir. Tryin' to remember somethin', anything of bein' a cop so I can help Elaine, because she's important and she's...she's my friend-even if I don't remember her beyond a few months. Now ya wanna pull me out, not let me see dis through? How can I know if I'll ever be a cop again if ya do dat?"

        Welsh was silent, unable to find an appropriate response. Elaine was staring at Ray with tears in her eyes, which she brushed away before anyone other than Fraser could notice.

        Ray leaned on the desk and met the man's gaze squarely. "A cop's not what ya are, it's who ya are, right? Let me be who I am, Lieu. I can do dis, I can."

        Welsh sighed and nodded. "Fine," he agreed and Ray smiled. "But put a vest on before ya go and you stay in the car and let the others take care of anything dat goes down." His eyes narrowed, fractionally. "....And, Ray, if this is a wild goose chase, you'll have a lot more to worry about than Jones, you got me?"

        Ray's smile widdened  "Got it, yes, Sir," he acknowledged and hurried out with Fraser.
 

         "What's wrong, Ray?" Fraser asked, as they sat in the darkened interior of the GTO. Elaine and Dief were in the back and his partner kept shifting uncomfortably in the seat.

         Ray shook his head. "I dunno,  maybe it's dis stupid vest, it feels wierd and I...I feel like somethin's missin'." He grunted and adjusted his position for the third time.

        It could be that Ray was just anxious about being here, but it was more than that. He felt, unprotected and vulnerable, despite wearing the bullet proof vest. He had changed into a heavier leather coat, which was a little warmer than his raglan.

         "Aside from your mind, I presume?" the Mountie teased and Elaine giggled.

        Ray glared at him, and tried to look offended, but the twitching of his lips refused to carry it off.
"Gimmie yer gun, Elaine," he requested calmly. "I'm gonna shoot him in the head and see how he likes havin' a slow leak in dat area."

         Fraser scoffed at him and Elaine smiled. Welsh had taken her badge and her duty gun, but she had brought her back up revolver with her, just in case. Neither Fraser nor Ray carried a weapon.

         "Can't we all just get along?" she laughed.

        Fraser smiled, Ray didn't quite understand the catch phase but smiled anyway. The Walkie Talkie on the seat between them cackled as Dewey called.

         "Hey, Vecchio," There was a long pause, and then Ray suddenly remembered they were talking to him. Dewey and Huey were at one end of the pier.

         "Oh, dat's me!" Ray chuckled, grabbing the radio. "Yah, what?"

         "How much longer we gotta hang out here?"

         "Hey, the meeting wasn't set until midnight," Ray reminded. "What's the matter, ya gotta be home fer curfew or somethin'?"

        A hearty chuckle from Huey followed his response. "Good to have ya back, Ray," he offered.

        Ray blinked in surprise. He exchanged a glance with Fraser and Elaine, who were also smiling. He shrugged and spoke into the radio. "Good to be back, I guess, such as I am," he replied. Suddenly a flash across one of the dock pallets caught his eye. "There." He spoke into the radio. "Hey we got company, look to yer left by the fruit crates."

        A long black Lincoln town car approached the area.

        "Got him," Huey informed. "And here comes visitor number two."

        A second vehicle, a four by four jeep joined the first car and three men stepped out; one from the jeep and two from the town car.

         "Hold yer positions," Ray warned, surprising himself as well as the others. He couldn't explain it but he sensed they needed to wait. One more piece would be added to the puzzle, he could feel it.

         As it turned out, two more people showed from somewhere behind the dock crates, and it appeared to Ray that they were meeting for an exchange of stolen merchandise. Each man wore a dark suit and remained shadowed in the darkness. One of the four stepped up under a dock lamp and opened a small velvet purse. He spread a portion of the product into the hands of the smallest man present. Ray used his binoculars to see that it was diamonds.

         "The plot thickens," he murmured, as the two men exchanged a briefcase no doubt containing money for the gems. "Look at all da sparklies."

        Elaine grabbed the binoculars from him, peered through them, and then reached for the radio. "Move in!" she shouted, as she, Fraser and Diefenbaker bolted from the car. Ray automatically moved to follow, but then hung back beside the GTO, remembering his promise to Welsh.

         For a few brief moments, it was anarchy as the officers identified themselves and charged the four men. The weasel with the diamonds and one of the other men took off with Fraser and Diefenbaker after them, as Huey, Dewey, and Elaine took care of the others. The Duck Boys caught the two remaining and Elaine chased the third back toward his vehicle.

         "Police!" Elaine called. "Freeze, or I'll shoot!"

         The man paused at the hood of his vehicle, his back to her, then suddenly turned and fired at her. Elaine fired back automatically and shot the gun out of the suspect's hand. She moved toward him as he howled and cradled his hand, using her flashlight to get a better look at him as she drew nearer. He looked up forlornly and she gasped.
 
        Ray watched the scene unfold, hating that there was nothing he could do to help. Part of him was afraid to move, he hadn't lied to Welsh, he didn't want to get shot. However, another part, a stronger, unidentified part wanted to be right in the middle of it all. His head whipped sideways as he heard gunshots in the direction that Fraser had chased the other two suspects.

        "Screw it," Ray decided, sliding back behind the wheel and tearing off for the east side of the pier. He wasn't going to let his partner get killed, because of a little thing like his memory. Welsh could chew his ass later, if there was a later.

        Ray's tires squealed  as he rammed a mountain of crates to put the car between Fraser and the bullets of the other men. He slid across the passanger side and fell out beside his partner.

        "Glad you could make it, Ray," Fraser offered, grinning, as they hunched behind the car to avoid getting shot. "What kept you?"

        Ray shielded his head and cringed each time a bullet bounced off the GTO. "My Dad's gonna kill me!" he whimpered. "Oh man, my car! I'm dyin' here." Ray glanced up in time to see that one of the bullets penetrated the windshield and land inside. Okay, that's it, no more Mr. Nice Guy.

        Ray glanced beside them at the crates that he had knocked over. Oh yeah, he grinned, New Years comes early this year. He grabbed up a handful of the firecrackers and pulled out his lighter. He handed some to Fraser, who seemed to approve the idea, and lit the fuses. They both stood, simultaneously and threw the firecrackers toward the gunmen, setting off sparks in every direction and covering their assault at the same time.

        The two gun men cried out and took of running to avoid being caught on fire from the sparks.

        Ray shoved a few more sticks into his pocket then he and Fraser gave chase.

        The buyer and his cohort were tossing crates and trash cans behind them, in an attempt to slow Ray and Fraser down, but the pair kept coming. Luckily the moon was full and they could avoid the obsticals, but there were still two many shadows to hide in.

         They neared a junction of warehouses and the two men split in opposite directions. Fraser went left, with Diefenbaker running ahead, and Ray hurried toward the right. Gunshots rang out and the detective dove behind a selection of crates, automatically reaching for his weapon. He cursed. That was what he was missing! Not that he even knew if he could shoot the damn thing, but his body seemed used to having it within reach.

         He was pinned down by the other man's gunfire, but he couldn't just stay there and let him get away. He stuck his head out and the force of the bullets shattered a piece of the crate he had crouched behind. Okay, so that's how the game is played. The guy was going to fire at any movement on Ray's part. He glanced up toward the top row of the crates, which were at least five feet above him.

         Ray pulled off his coat and tried not to shiver in the cold winter air. He propped the coat against one of the crates, maneuvering it in a way that it would start to slide in a few seconds and be visible to the man firing at him. With a speed that surprised even him, he quickly hoisted himself up and over the crates,  careful to stay low and use the shadows to hide his movement.

         The man started firing again and Ray knew his coat had dropped. Positioning himself carefully atop one of the crates, Ray lit his remaining firecrackers and tossed them behind the man to mask an assault. The man turned, startled and again started firing, giving Ray the opportunity to launch himself downward toward the gunman. They both hit the ground with a painful crunch.

        Ray recovered first and grabbed the discarded gun from the still dazed suspect. "Twitch," he warned breathlessly, trying not to think of the pain shooting through his bad leg. "On yer knees, hands behind ya."

        The man did as he was told.

        "Excellent! Now what do we do once we have the prisoner restrained?" a voice from his past asked.

         "Move and I'll kick ya in the head," Ray warned, grinning. He suddenly realized he had no handcuffs and glanced up to see Elaine hurrying toward him.
.
         "Ray!" she exclaimed worried. "Are you okay?"

        Ray nodded "Take care a him, I gotta go help Fraser," he assured, folding the gun into the waistband of his jeans, with a familiarity that also surprised him, and hurrying off to find his partner. His leg was on fire, but it didn't seem to matter. Something about this whole scene was uncomfortably familiar.

         Ray started running faster, a vision of his partner being choked by a colossal sized man spurred his fear, and he screamed out Fraser's name.

         Relief flooded him when a slightly rumpled Mountie and his wolf came around the corner of the building with the buyer in tow. Ray stopped running and bent from the waist, resting his palms against his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

         "Ray," Fraser greeted him, concerned. "Are you all right?"

        Ray took a few deep breaths and straightened up. He nodded grinning. His lungs were on fire, his leg was killing him, his stomach was nauseous, and he was trembling all over with adrenaline and residual fear.

         "I'm great, Frase," he assured. "I've never been better."
 

         Joe Clark sat dejectedly in the straight back chair of Interview room one, his cuffed hands resting on the table as Ray and Fraser paced around him.

         "Give it up, Clark!" Ray snapped, slamming his hand down on the table and startling the younger cop. "Yer already goin' down, don't take Elaine with ya."

         "Look, I never meant fer any of dis to happen," Clark muttered, his previous bravado gone.

         Clark had seemed to deflate, inwardly, after Elaine shot the gun from his hand. The shock and betrayal on his former partner's face had apparently done more damage to the man than the bullet ever could.

         "So tell us about it," Ray demanded. "Why'd you try to frame yer own partner? Why'd ya lie to IA about what happened dat day?"

         "I had to!" Clark cried.

         "Explain it to me," Ray warned. "Real slow and don't leave out any of the details."

         "I…I don't know why I even started…" Clark moaned and shook his head. "It started out just being a chauffeur job at night. Not all the time, just sometimes. I…I'd get the call to go and pick up some guy at a hotel or the airport and bring him to some secluded place to meet with other people. At first I didn't think anything about it, but den I started to notice things weren't Kosher, y'know?"

         "So ya took the blinders off," Ray sneered, unimpressed by his remorse. "Den what?"

        Clark glared at him, then immediately looked away. Stripped of his position and dignity, he found the detective's open hostility more intimidating. "Sean, the guy who set me up in the job, he guessed I was noticing things weren't…right," he admitted. "Anyway, he started paying me extra money to just keep my nose out of it and my mouth shut." He raked his bound hands though his hair agitated. "It was a lot of money, more den I'd make in a month as a cop. I...I couldn't say no."

         "Where did Dawson come in?" Fraser inquired, happy for the most part to watch Ray work, delighted that the detective seemed to be remembering more and more about how to be a cop. Or, perhaps it was as Ray told Welsh, it was who he was.

         "Dawson laundered the money dat changed hands. Sometimes he took care of liquidating the gems dat came through." Clark stated quietly. "Only he…"

         "He wanted out?" Fraser decided and Clark nodded.

        "Sean knew the guy had evidence on all of us bein' involved and was talkin' about goin' to da cops."

         "So ya had someone introduce him to Elaine, knowing she was the type to get his mind off of you and yer buddies in crime fer awhile," Ray confirmed.

         Clark nodded. "Everyone knew he had a…thing for pretty women, especially ones like Elaine… dat held strong careers," he explained uncomfortably.

         "And were a minority, right?" Ray growled and Clark flinched. "Sorta like the 'against all odds' theory, was it? She's black, beautiful, a woman, and still could hold a position usually filled by a man. Was dat about right, Clark?"

         "He…he was harmless. He wouldn't have hurt her…" Clark began and suddenly found himself hauled to his feet and thrown against the back wall.

        Welsh, who had been watching through the two-way glass, immediately entered the room and helped Fraser pull Ray off the other officer.

         "He was a sick bastard and ya put yer own partner's life and emotional health at risk just to give yerself time ta dress after gettin' caught with yer pants down!" Kowalski screamed at him, furiously.

         Welsh was surprised that he actually had to work to restrain the smaller man. Kowalski's boiling point was ten times shorter than it used to be, perhaps maturity had something to do with it; Ray still considered himself a young man.

        "Ray! Calm down, Ray!" Fraser demanded, as he also attempted to get his partner under control and away from Clark, who looked truly terrified. "Recite, Ray, say the prayer!"

        "God grant me the fucking strength not to kill dis prick!" Ray growled, not even attempting to say the prayer properly. He relaxed so suddenly that Fraser and Welsh almost toppled over atop him. Ray wiggled his head and cracked his neck. "Ah, much better, he decided immediately calmer.

        Welsh and Fraser released the detective, warily.

        Ray kicked the chair toward the other officer, his hard gaze silently ordering Clark to resume his seat. Clark waited until Ray walked back around to the other side of the table, before returning to his seat reluctantly.

         "Do you know what it's like to be watched everywhere ya go, Clark? Do you know what it's like ta be afraid to open yer door or answer yer phone?" Ray asked and tossed the photographs of Elaine on the table, grabbing Clark by the collar and pulling him back to look at them. "Do dey look like pictures taken by a harmless person, Clark? Someone who's just interested in lookin' maybe?"

        Clark stared at the photos of his partner, distressed. "No," he croaked.

        "What was dat? I didn't hear that?" Ray demanded and Clark repeated the denial louder. Ray released his collar in disgust.

          They had shown Welsh the photos earlier and the Lieutenant had allowed the detective to use them during the interview, before putting them to evidence. He wasn't happy about how Ray and Fraser had 'delayed' showing them to him, but since it was for Elaine he had let it slide.

         Ray pushed the tape recorder toward Clark, pressed record, and straddled the chair opposite, his eyes burning into Clark's skin. The Officer finally nodded and began his report.
 
 

         "Stanley!" Mrs. Kowalski cried as Ray, Fraser and Welsh stepped out of the interview room.

        Joe Clark was remanded into custody. He would be booked on a variety of crimes. He was shocked to see both his parents here, since it was almost two O'clock in the morning. Everyone had returned to the station directly after the incident at the pier.

         "Mum!" Ray returned, forgetting his mood, their case, and his misgivings of both parents at the sight of her.

        Barbara threw herself into his arms and cradled his face reverently. "Why didn't you tell us you were home, Stanley?" she demanded, kissing both sides of his face.

         Ray tried not to ignore the other people staring at them. He barely glanced at his father, who was approaching at a slower pace. "Ya shouldn't be here, Mum," he scolded glancing at his watch, and shocked to find that it was a little after three in the morning.  "What are you doin' here so late?"

        Ray quickly pulled her into the room he had just exited. His father followed and closed the door, away from prying eyes.

         "I had to come, Stanley," Barbara cried and hugged him again. "When Stella told us you were back, I kept waiting for you to come see us, but you never did. We called your apartment and got no answer. We drove over there and you weren't home. Then I knew, I told yer father, there was only one more place you could be." She finally took a breath, then continued. "Why are you back here, Stanley? Your father said you weren't going to do this anymore, but I said to him, I said Damien, it's what he is, but he didn't believe me and here you are and I was right."

         "You're always right, Mum," Ray smiled and returned her embrace warmly; he had really missed her.

         "You remembered then, didn't you?" Barbara smiled joyously, again cradling her son's handsome face. "I knew you would and I told them all, I said just leave him alone, and he'll be fine and you came back to us. I knew my baby boy wouldn't change, I knew you'd be the same as always."

         Ray allowed her to talk; he never could find the courage to interrupt his Mother's ramblings. It irritated him when other people, like Fraser or Frannie, talked all in one breath like his Mother did, but that was different. This was his Mum and he would never do anything to hurt or disrespect her.

         "He has changed, Barbara," Damien commented, quietly. "He isn't the son we raised, or he would have told us he was home."

        Ray glared at him and stepped back from his Mother, who protectively put her arm about his waist.

        Damien returned his son's hostility, openly. "You let yer Mother worry over ya all dis time, without a word if you're dead or alive, and den you come back to Chicago and don't even contact us? What kind of thinking is dat?"

         "I was busy, Dad," Ray stated, something in his tone told Damien to back off but the older man pressed forward.

         "You came back to dis stinkin' place instead of yer family!" he accused. "You're still following dat damn Mountie around by…"

        "A friend was in trouble, Dad," Ray insisted, stepping away from his Mother so she wouldn't feel his body trembling with anger. "I came back ta help her. It had nothin' ta do with Ben."

        "So, what, ya couldn't even call us, spare five minutes to say you were back?" Damien demanded.

        "I've been workin' since I got back," Ray protested. He really didn't want to do this now. "I've only had a couple of hours sleep at dat and I'm sorry I didn't think to call but I..." He paused and lowered his eyes. "I didn't know what to say to either of you."

        "We're you're parents, Raymond," Damien reminded, gruffly. "How can ya not know how to talk to us."

        "You messed with my mind, Dad!" Ray exclaimed, frustrated. "I was screwed up enough without you tellin' me lies!"

          "I never!"

             Ray ran his hand across his scalp in agitation. "Look, I don't want to do dis now, can we just talk later?"

        "No, goddamnit we'll talk now!" Damien refused. "You've got all the time in the world for this damn place, make some time for your family. Show some respect, Raymond!"

        Before Ray could respond a knock on the door interrupted them and Fraser peered inside.

         "Please, forgive my intrusion," he offered politely as he exchanged a supportive gaze with his partner. Fraser could see that Ray was very close to losing his temper again and trying unsuccessfully to hide it, at least from his Mother. "Leftenant Welsh needs to see us, Ray."

         "Um...tell him I'll be there in just a few minutes, Ben," Ray requested. He bent to kiss  Barbara's cheek affectionately, before steering her toward the Canadian. "Mum, let Fraser get ya some coffee, okay? I gotta talk to Dad."

         Barbara Kowalski hesitated, even as she smiled at Fraser.  It was strange to see him out of uniform, but she had always liked the Mountie. He was good to her son, despite what her husband always said. She reached up and patted Ray's cheek.

         "All right, sweetheart," she agreed easily, then her eyes flickered toward Damien. "If you chase our son away with any more of your ramblings, Damien Kowalski you will have me to deal with."

        Ray and his father stared at her, surprised.

         Fraser fought the smile tugging at his lips. Bravo, Madam, he encouraged silently, as he offered his arm to her. "Shall we, Mrs. Kowalski?" he suggested.

        Barbara wrapped her smaller arm around his. "You're so sweet and polite," she commented delighted, as he guided her out. "Do you have a girlfriend, young man, someone who can cook for you? You're entirely too thin and…"

        Ray closed the door with a shake of his head and turned back to his father. "You're wrong, Dad," he said, quietly. "You were wrong about me and Fraser and you were wrong about me being a cop."  He paused and met his father's gaze directly. "And I have never, ever disrespected you or Mum. If I did before, then I'm sorry, but I can't be responsible for something I can't remember. Don't ya ever say I don't respect you, it's not true and you know dat."

         "You got hurt, just like I said ya would," Damien growled, slightly chagrine. "How was I wrong about you bein' a cop den? I just wanted you to have a better life, Son. What is wrong with that?"

         "What's wrong with the life I have now?" Ray implored.

         "You don't even remember dis life, son!" Damien reminded, firmly.

         Ray willed himself not to flinch. "I'm learning," he informed, quietly. "Even if I don't remember everything, people tell me I was a good cop, Dad. I've seen my file, I've helped a lot of people; gotten a lot of scum off the street."

         "And gotten hurt a dozen ways because of it, Godamnit!" Damien stated, furiously. "You let dat Mountie lead you into any kind of situation…he's careless of his own life because he has no one to love him, son. Dat doesn't give him the right to be careless with your life, because you do."

         "Benton Fraser does have someone who loves him, Dad," Ray protested. "I love him." He ignored his father's shocked gaze. "And before ya go off the deep end, it ain't like dat either! I haven't changed dat much. I love Ben because he's my friend and my partner…"

         "Because, he says he is…" Damien implored and Ray shook his head.

         "Because, of who he is. He is a great man, Dad," Ray insisted. "Ben's the kindest, most sincere, most…honest person I have ever known. He finds the good in everyone," Ray's eyes narrowed. "Even you. He defended you, Dad. You tried to destroy our friendship and he still defended you. Ya wanna know why I didn't call? Why I stayed away? I was angry, Dad, so damned angry at you for what ya said, what ya tried to do...."

        "I was only tryin' to help, Raymond," Damien protested, shocked that he really had been the cause for his son's leaving.

        "By tellin' me the things you thought I should hear, but tryin' ta get me to live the life you wanted me to live but couldn't get me to before," Ray confirmed, exasperated. "That isn't right, Dad. I'm sorry ya didn't approve of how my life had turned out, I'm sorry I disappointed ya, but you don't have any more right now to make those decisions for me than you did before. It's my life, whether  I remember it or not, I still have ta live it for myself. Why can't ya accept dat?"

        "Raymond," Damien began. "I...I honestly think dat what happened to you...well it was a gift, Son."

        Ray stared at him. "What?"

        "A gift, from God," Damien continued. "He's lettin' ya start fresh, Raymond. Don't throw dat chance away by fallin' back into da same pit ya were in before. Dis was God's way of tellin' ya it was time fer a change, Son. He knew you weren't happy livin' as ya were, without Stella, pretending to be someone else, puttin; yerself in danger, it's not right." Damien stepped toward him then paused. "Even us, Raymond. It's given us a second chance too, can't you see dat? We can be good again, you and me. All dat bad stuff between us is gone and we can be how we were."

        Ray blinked a few times and continued to regard his father in stunned amazement. "Are you unhinged?" he suddenly choked. "A gift, Dad? A gift from God? Dis hasn't been a gift Dad it's a curse. Fourteen freaking years of my life are gone, don't you get dat?"

        "Raymond..."

        Ray started to pace, his fingers rubbing his scalp, distressed. "Do you have any idea what dat feels like? Do you know how stupid I feel when people talk about things that everyone in the world but me understands? My entire marriage to Stella is gone, except fer our first year. Special times with you and Mum are gone. I've missed everything, Dad. All the good all the bad in the world, all the miracles and the tragedies, It's all lost and I may never get it back."

        Ray shook his head and finally faced his father again. "I'm thirty-six years old, Dad and I haven't a clue how to act my age! I missed all the important parts that are supposed to help me do that. But I have Fraser and he will be whatever age I need him to be, he'll let me act as young or as old as I want and he doesn't care if it seems weird or immature. Do you have any idea how lucky I am to have a friend like dat, to know that he feels the same way about me, the skinny little Pollock from the West Side of Chicago? Dat's a gift, Dad, to have him as my friend. Ben would do anything fer me and I feel the same way about him."

         "He's not yer family, Son!" Damien exclaimed. "You shouldn't be closer to anyone den ya are yer family!"

         "So he's not blood related," Ray agreed. "Who cares? You can't help who ya love, Dad, and you and Mum brought me up to be a very respectful and loving kid. Now you condemn me because I'm not afraid to show how I feel?"

         "It upsets yer Mother…" his father began and Ray cut him off.

         "Mum knows I love her more than life itself, Dad," he stated, firmly. "Fraser knows it, Stella knows it, even my Lieutenant knows my Mum comes first, so don't give me dat crap!"

         "Now see here…" Damien stammered furious.

         Ray ignored him. "It doesn't upset Mum to see me happy, it doesn't upset her to know I love other people," he decided. "I think it…it upsets you, Dad. you're pissed because we're not that close anymore, because of whatever stupid thing in my past that caused us to drift apart. I think you're jealous."

         "Yer talkin' nonsense," Damien sneered, but Ray could see his father was getting rattled. "You're my son, no one else's. I got no reason to be jealous. There's nothin' wrong with our relationship."

        Ray chuckled in disbelief. "I guess I'm not the only one dat has pieces of his memory missin'," he chided and Damien flushed. "Look, I don't have time fer dis, I got a job to do and I'm gonna do it." He, Fraser, Welsh and Elaine had been working around the clock and exhaustion was finally creeping up on Ray.  "Stay here or go home, I don't care, but you're not gonna screw wit my head again and try to change who I am."

         "Raymond…" Damien began, suddenly worried he had gone too far, but Ray was already pulling open the door and striding out.

         "Stanley!" his Mother called as she and Fraser made their way back from the break room.

        Ray smiled because she was wearing the Mountie's Stetson. It was entirely too big for her but she seemed pleased as punch to have it.

        "What do you think, honey?" Barbara asked. "Maybe I'll become a Mountie?"

         "I think you have ta be Canadian fer dat, Mum," Ray chuckled and bent to receive her hug, as Damien stepped out of the room and watched them somberly.

         "She is quite fetching in my hat, though, Ray," Fraser offered smiling. "Don't you agree?"

         "Yer beautiful, as always," he assured his Mother fondly.

        Barbara blushed and swatted him playfully. She pulled the Stetson off and adjusted it on her son's head. "Oh my!" she gasped and Ray smirked, as his eyes rolled upwards toward the wide brim. "That really suits you, Stanley. Don't you think so, Benton?"

        Fraser nodded and it was Ray's turn to blush. "You do carry it off, well, Ray," the Mountie offered. Ray quickly pulled the hat off and handed it to Fraser, embarrassed. He ran his hand through his hair restoring it to its usual spikes.

         "We have to get to work, Mum," Ray told her, ignoring his father. "I'll call you later, okay?"

         "You promise?' she demanded and he nodded. "Okay." She kissed him goodbye. "Go take care of whatever you have to do then. It's very late and you should both be home in bed, so don't take too long. Remember your Mother loves you."

         "I love you too, Mum," he vowed and waved as Damien took his wife by the arm and escorted her out, without even a backward glance.

         "Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser inquired gently and his partner nodded.

         "Let's go see Welsh,"

         They would have to wait until later that day to acquire the warrant they needed to further their case, so everyone headed home for some much needed sleep. Fraser, Ray and Diefenbaker entered the apartment and each seemed to sigh in relief.

        Exhaustion had hit Ray hard, once he left the station and gotten into the GTO to drive home. He'd have to put the car into the shop tomorrow, but it would have to wait for now. He stumbled toward the sofa and collapsed upon it, tiredly.

        "God, what a night!" he sighed, then glanced at his watch again. "Morning, day, whatever."

        Fraser smiled and removed his coat. He set it and his Stetson over the chair in the kitchen and settled in the chair opposite Ray's position. "Are you hungry, Ray?" he inquired.

        "Nope...well yah, but too tired to actually eat I think," Ray admitted. He regarded Fraser, quietly. "Be honest, Ben. Did...did I do okay today? I mean...with everything?"

        "You were great, Ray," Fraser assured. "I'd almost forgotten your memory loss, you did so well."

        Ray smiled, pleased. "Yah? Yer not just sayin' dat?"

        "Stop fishing for compliments, Ray," Fraser scolded, mildly.

        "I'm not," Ray denied. "I just....I want ya to be honest and not just say it because you think it's what I want to hear."

        Fraser leaned forward so their eyes could meet. "You did very well, Ray," he informed, firmly. "I was glad to have you as my partner again."

        Ray lowered his eyes, shyly and nodded. "Thanks, Ben. I know ya wouldn't lie to me or anything. I just...I'm still not sure about...some stuff and I don't want people coddling me. I mean, if I screw up tell me, don't y'know hide it because of my...well my condition. I'll never learn what's right dat way, ya know?"

        Fraser nodded. "Understood."

        Ray sighed and stretched out on the sofa. "Yah, good, dat's good."

        "You should try to get some sleep, Ray," Fraser suggested as the detective tossed an arm across his eyes to block the light from above.

        "Can't if ya keep talkin', Ben," Ray reminded, drowsily.

        "I meant in your bed, Ray," Fraser moved forward and shook Ray's shoulder. "You'll be more comfortable in the bedroom.

        "You're bed now," Ray muttered and turned his back to the Mountie. "You been payin' da rent."

        "Only until you returned," Fraser assured, quickly. "This is still you're apartment, Ray."

        Ray shrugged. "Too tired ta move, Ben," he confessed. "You and Dief take the bed, I'm good here."

        Fraser wanted to argue, he didn't want Ray thinking that this was no longer his home. Fraser intended to move back into the consulate after they straightened things with Elaine's case. Although, he had enjoyed these last two weeks living with Ray at the cabin, he knew the detective would need his own space again.

        "I'll help you to the bed, Ray," Fraser offered. He frowned when there was no answer. "Ray? Ray?"

        He moved carefully from his chair and leaned over his friend. Ray was already quietly snoring.. He smiled and pulled the afgan from the back to cover his partner. "You've earned a rest, Ray, my friend," he whispered, affectionately.
 

        Ray and Fraser awoke a few hours later, around six, with their stomachs growling. They decided to go for breakfast at a diner, that was opened around the clock, and that featured a nice view of the lake. Ray was barely picking at his food, obviously lost in thought.

        Fraser tried to give his partner some space, he knew Ray was still trying to deal with his own circumstances and feelings. Fraser had been proud of the way his friend had handled the confrontation with his parents, but despite Ray's bravado, he knew the detective was very upset and confused.

         Finally Ray pushed his plate away and stood, retrieving his coat from the back of his chair. "I'm gonna take a walk, buddy," he announced quietly, throwing some money and his car keys on the table. "Take the car back to the station, I'll meet you there, okay?"

         "Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser asked concerned.

        Ray started to nod then shook his head. "I…I don't know," he admitted, honestly. "I got some thinkin' to do. Okay?"
 
        Fraser nodded. "Understood," he replied, though still concerned for his partner. "Why not take Dief with you? He'd enjoy the exercise."

        Ray smirked, he could see right through that offer. He knew the Mountie worried, though, so he nodded and waved for Dief to follow. "Sure," he decided. "We'll keep each other out of trouble."

        Fraser smiled, not the least bit surprise that Ray had understood his ruse.

        Ray and Diefenbaker left the diner and headed north. He didn't really know where he was going, he just needed to walk. He strolled by the lake, then through the park. A young woman, out for her morning jog, had settled on one of the benches. She had one of those new walkmans, with a speaker included for joint listening, and she had pulled off her earphones; allowing her music to be heard. She smiled at him as a slow song drifted through the small device. Ray found a stick for Dief to play fetch with and was drawn to the music.
 
 

         Visions of picnics in this park with his parents and tossing a football around with his older brother flooded him. All the childhood competitions he'd had with Joe Thomas, over who could run the fastest, or who could walk the rail fences longer without falling; climbing trees together to get a better look at the girls who walked by.

         Long, romantic walks with Stella, settling under their favorite tree to study for finals. He'd proposed to her by the water fountain, getting down on one knee and declaring his love for her before the other patrons of the park. They used to hike and ride their bikes in the hills at the edge of the city. Driving for an hour, just so they could stop on their favorite bridge and admire the breathtaking view of Chicago in the evening.

         God, how he loved this city. It seemed like a living thing to Ray and he would always be protective of it. Perhaps that was why he had become a cop in the first place. Now things had changed and he had lost a very valuable part of himself. A part that everyone else seemed to crave and that he no longer could deliver.

         Maybe he was trying too hard to be what others wanted. Maybe he should just be himself, as he knew how to be. Everything he knew was in his past, all the great times, as well as all the problems. He might never be what his father expected him to be. He may never be the partner he was to Fraser or the husband he was to Stella.

         He sighed and glanced toward Diefenbaker, who was frolicking in a snow bank, searching for the stick Ray had tossed. He wished he had the wolf's penchant to just be himself and forget all his other woes. He pulled out his police ID and studied it, ignoring Vecchio's name.

         It was his badge, he was Fraser's partner now, and he was a good cop. He was learning to be a good friend and, even if he wasn't the best husband to Stella before, he could change that too if she let him. Most important he was a good son, he loved his folks, cherished them, and it didn't matter anymore if they accepted him as the man he was, or continued to dream of whom he could be. He would be there for his folks, as he always had been, that's what loving someone was all about.

         Another song began, a disco hit Ray remembered from school, and he found himself mouthing the familiar tune. He nodded and slipped his ID back into his pocket, then tried to get the wolf's attention. He would survive too just like the woman singing on the radio, what else could he do?
 

         Fraser had shown his partner how to wear a shoulder holster and Ray had pulled it on that morning before they had left the apartment. His instincts had seemed to click when it came to loading his gun and placing it inside the holster correctly. He also decided to wear the ankle holster, because he was feeling more comfortable around the weapons now. Fraser was happy to see his friend looking so much like his old self. There were a few new things about his partner that the Mountie was still adjusting to, but that was okay, it just made Ray that much more interesting.

         They had the warrant, now they just had to make the arrest. Joe Clark had been one of the people who had been at the jewelry store the day Fraser and Ray had started their investigation. Ray had recognized the patrol issued boots and suspected that it had been a cop, but he hadn't connected the voice to Joe Clark when they first spoke to him.

        Elaine had been appalled, shocked, saddened, and then, angry when she learned of her partner's involvement in the plot against her. She had been reinstated after Welsh and Kowalski had gone to IA with their evidence. With Joe Clark's confession, they only had one more thing to take care of, and that was to arrest the real murderer of Mike Dawson.

         Ray dropped the GTO at the auto shop and sequestered an unmarked vehicle from the station. They pulled up to the Dawson's residence, along with Huey and Dewey and two agents from IA. It was Ray's show, however; so only he, Fraser and Elaine walked up to knock on the door.

        Ruthie Jones answered and frowned at them. "I told you to stay away from my client, Detective Vecchio," she growled.

        Ray smiled and showed her the warrant. "Well, now, we can't always have what we want can we?" he retorted. "I'm here to arrest yer client."

        Jones gaped at him in shock, then started to laugh in disbelief. "You can't be serious!" she declared. "On what charge?"

         Ray tried to remember what Welsh said the woman would be charged with. "Murder one," he informed, showing none of the uncertainty he felt.

        Part of Ray was elated that they had solved the case, his first crime; at least the first he remembered. However, another part of him couldn't help but feel sympathetic toward the woman he had come to arrest. She had seemed so nice and was really just another victim of her husband. He wondered if this was how it would always be, feeling the good and bad about what he was doing.

         Jones grabbed the warrant from his hand. "This is insane!" she protested. "Cynthia Dawson is the victim in this, Detective. You obviously have your signals crossed."

        Ray looked past her, not an easy feat, to the small woman that stood just inside the door.
 "Do we have our signals crossed, Mrs. Dawson?" he asked gently.

        Cynthia shook her head, remorsefully.

        Ruthie Jones turned to gape at her, allowing the opening Ray needed to move into the home.

        Cynthia didn't resist him as he stepped up to her and asked her to turn around.

        Ray noticed she wore a simple black mini dress today and Ray glanced at the familiar, small silver charm on the woman's left ankle. He pulled out his cuffs. Fraser had shown him how to use them before they left the apartment that morning, but he couldn't force himself to place them over the woman's wrists.

        The hesitation showed in Ray's eyes as he leveled his gaze toward Fraser. The Mountie inclined his head, it had to be done. Ray shook his head and placed the cold metal around the delicate wrists of Mrs. Dawson. "I'm sorry," he offered, quietly. This sucked!

         Cynthia nodded and cast him a forgiving look, surprised at his apology. "M…My children," she managed quietly. "They're in school, can…can someone be here to watch them when they come home?"

        Ray glanced back toward the attorney and Jones nodded grimly, she would take care of getting someone there.

          "Cynthia Dawson," Ray began, regretfully. He hoped he could remember all the words that were on that little card that Welsh had given him; he'd tried to memorize them last night. "You are under arrest fer the murder of yer husband Mike Dawson. You have the right to remain silent…"

         "I don't understand any of this," Jones admitted to Fraser as she listened to Ray reading her client her rights.

        Ray finished and moved past Jones to bring Cynthia to his car.

        "Don't say anything, Cynthia," the attorney warned. "I'll meet you at the station."
 
 
 

         At the station, while Cynthia was being booked, Fraser, Elaine, Ray, Stella, and Ruthie Jones were in Welsh's office discussing the arrest. Welsh sat in his chair, Ray was perched on the corner of the desk with Fraser behind him. The three women stood together before them.

         "Mrs. Dawson was abused by her husband," Fraser began, going over the statement Cynthia had given. "Apparently, she also knew about his penchant for other women. She started following her husband and saw that he had staked out another female target. Mrs. Dawson learned Officer Besbriss' patrol area, where she lived and the type of weapon she used from her husband's notes"

         "Your client was in the store the day my partner and I went there," Elaine continued, sadly. "She knew her husband was using the store to move money and stolen goods illegally, and about my partner, Officer Clark's involvement. She blackmailed Clark to help her get rid of her husband once and for all."

         "Clark arranged a time to stop at the deli just up the street from Mr. Dawson's store and claimed he had received a call over the radio of a possible break in," Fraser supplied. "Mrs. Dawson had insisted her husband take her to the shop that day to pick out a gift for her sister's birthday."

         "So  you're claiming Clark and Cynthia set Officer Besbriss up to shoot Dawson?" Jones concluded, disturbed.

         "Actually, Officer Besbriss did return fire," Fraser added. "However, Dawson was already dead at that point. Mrs. Dawson had shot her husband with the same make of gun and ammunition that Officer Besbriss uses, then fired at her when she entered through the back. Officer Besbriss couldn't see who was firing at her, but was forced to return fire anyway and actually missed."

         "We went back to the store and found these," Ray replied, holding up a small evidence bag that contained two spent bullets. He had been unusually quiet since their arrival back at the station. "These were the ones Elaine fired. Clark had placed a picture over da bullet holes, so dey were missed during the initial investigation. Mrs. Dawson had shot her husband twice in the chest then hid in the closet."

         "When Clark came in, he deliberately steered clear of the closet," Elaine supplied. "But it didn't dawn on me there might be anyone in there. All I knew was that when the lights came on I thought I had shot Dawson and Clark took me outside to calm down. He went back in to secure the area, so he said, and I guess sometime during then Mrs. Dawson left the store and Clark covered my bullet holes in the wall. By the time forensics got there, it seemed pretty much cut and dried."

         "I knew somethin' was queer when Cynthia came to see us at the station a couple of days ago," Ray commented, watching the counselor's eyes widen in surprise. "She brought us Dawson's ledgers, to make us suspect dat her husband was no good, guess killing him wasn't enough."

         "She also produced pictures of Officer Besbriss that Dawson had taken," Fraser allowed. " She claimed she was having second thoughts about her suit against Officer Besbriss, but we suspect she believed they would have proved more damaging to her husband, so she turned them over. The photos proved that Dawson was stalking her so Officer Besbriss would have a clearer motive to kill him."

         "I can't believe Cynthia could have arranged all this." Jones denied. "She seemed so distraught so…timid."

         "Most abused women are," Elaine offered. "Sometimes it doesn't take much to push them over the edge."

          "Well, thank you for your hypothesis, but so far, I haven't heard anything solid that convinces me that my client is guilty," Jones said, although her tone had lost much of its conviction.  "I better get downstairs, Cynthia will need a lawyer now, more than ever."

        "I'll go with you," Stella decided, as Ray straightened from his perch. "Perhaps I can get her a deal because of the extenuating circumstances."

        Jones nodded to Welsh as she and Stella headed out."

        Fraser and Ray walked with them toward holding the doors open.

        Ray stepped in front of Jones, just before they got to the steps. "Look, I didn't want to arrest yer client," he admitted, quietly. "Mrs. Dawson seems like a real nice lady, but she was the real killer, not Elaine."

        "That still had to be proven in a court of law, Detective," Jones refused, tightly.

        "Com'ahn, can the lawyer talk, you know we were right," Ray insisted, just a hint of wickedness in his tone. "I apologized for havin' ta do what I did, so why can't ya just admit ya were wrong and say you're sorry?"

         Jones shot him an instant look of dislike and the temptation to push him over the stairs was not lost on her.  "I will not apologize for trying to protect my client," she refused, primly.

         "I'm not asking' ya to apologize fer dat," Ray assured grinning. "But ya could admit we were right about Elaine. I mean ya weren't exactly nice to us before."

         "Why should I be?" she demanded. "You were doing your job, I was doing mine. You could have easily been wrong. And I don't have to be nice to anyone, but my client."

         Ray shook his head and rocked on his heels, grandeur. "But I wasn't wrong and you can't handle dat, can ya?"

         "I am not bothered in the least one way or the other, Detective," Jones decided, annoyed for allowing him to get to her. "Now get out of my way before I walk through you."

         "Are you threatening me, again?" Ray tsked . "I could arrest you fer dat."

            Jones' eyes narrowed on him. "You and what army?" she questioned, straightening her shoulders and staring down at him.

            Ray grinned and that only proved to increase her irritation. "Nah," he refused, his eyes glittering mischievously, levering himself up a little higher, just to tease her about her height. "You'd probably enjoy it too much. Hand cuffed, manhandled, frisked, all the really fun things to get ya excited."

            "Are these delusions of grandeur you have inherited only apparent in the males of your species or is it that way for the rest of the plankton as well?"

            "Ya know, you're really ugly when you're angry."

            "Imbecile."

            "Hag."

            "Buffoon."

            "Shrew."

            "Idiot."

            "Blow me." Ray dared before he could halt the words and both heard Stella and Fraser gasp in shock. Okay, so that was a little juvenile, Ray admitted silently, he hadn't meant to say that, it slipped out.

         For a moment Jones didn't respond, then a slow grin spread across her lips. She grabbed Ray's face between her hands and pulled him forward to capture his mouth in an impulsively, passionate kiss. She released him just as quickly and could see that she had finally managed to rattle him.

        She wet her lips intentionally and watched him shiver slightly. "Promises, promises, Detective," she purred.

         Ray continued to stand there, in shock.

         "Counselor," Stella Kowalski interrupted, suddenly. "Before we go down to holding, would you mind coming with me to the ladies room, then we can go see your client together."

         "Certainly," Jones agreed, continuing to leer at Ray, suggestively. Why fight it, the man was a babe. She followed the Assistant State's Attorney into the washroom and Stella closed the door.

         A moment later there was the God-awful sound of squealing inside the washroom and Fraser and Ray had moved to stand outside the door, curious as to what was going on inside. Loud thumping, banging, and grunting continued to echo from the room and soon the Duck boys and a few other people had stopped to stare at the door perplexed. Francesca Vecchio walked up and Ray caught her arm.

         "Um…Frannie," he suggested. "Maybe you should…"

        Francesca shook his arm off smiling. "No way, fella," she refused and continued to walk away. "I know better than to interrupt a cat fight."

         "Cat fight?" Ray repeated, surprised. "What the hell would they be fighting about?"

         "Someone should really go in there," Dewey commented, as there was a particularly loud screech from the lavatory.

         Finally the door opened and the men scrambled backwards.

        Stella Kowalski stepped out, smoothing the wrinkles out of her pristine, pale blue suit skirt, and barely a hair out of place. She nodded to Fraser, retrieved a handkerchief from her purse, and wiped Jones' lipstick from her ex-husband's mouth.

         "Call me tomorrow and maybe we'll have that lunch date," she suggested, calmly.

        Jones finally stepped out of the room, one heal broken, a tear in the shoulder of her blouse, her makeup running from having water thrown in her face and her hair a mess. She attempted to compose herself, as she limped on her one good heel.

         "I apologize for my unwarranted contact with you, Detective," she offered quietly, picking sheet rock dust, from the walls, out of her hair. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen." She limped away, her posture held rigidly, as she tried to restore order to her hair and clothes.

        Stella had already headed down stairs and Ray and Fraser were in shock.

        Fraser was the first to recover and placed his hands on his partner's shoulders. "Come along, Ray," he smiled, Dewey was giggling hysterically at what they had witnessed. "Let's get you home and rested. You've had a long couple of days."

         "A cold shower wouldn't hurt either, I'll bet," Huey teased.

         Ray started to smile. "I think she likes me," he grinned, without sarcasm this time, though whether he was referring to Stella or Ruthie, no one could be sure.
 
 

         Elated after their hard work, Ray and Fraser invited Elaine and Welsh out to dinner to celebrate. They had just received their meal when Ray's cell phone rang. He had started carrying it again once he returned to Chicago. It was John Baker.

         They had been headed into Chicago to surprise Ray for Christmas, but his wife had suffered a heart attack on the trip down.  She was in critical condition and in a coma. They were at St. Francis hospital, there in the city. John asked that Ray come, hoping his voice might give his wife the strength to recover.

       Ray told Fraser the sad news and then suggested Welsh and Elaine stay and finish their meal, while they went to the hospital. When they arrived about twenty minutes later, they found a very haggard looking John Baker coming out of one of the ICU rooms The older man had been grateful to see them both and had quickly explained what had happened. Fraser had taken John to the cafeteria to get something to eat and possibly convince him to sleep, since he looked exhausted.

         Ray had stayed with Mrs. Baker and the disheartening sight of the older woman was almost too much for the detective. Mary Ann Baker's usual rosy complexion had turned a somber gray.  Ray refused to believe she wouldn't get better and he tried to coax her to fight this set back with tender words and heartfelt promises.

        After awhile, Fraser returned and offered to give it a go, so Ray could get himself something to eat, since they had missed dinner. He had also convinced Mr. Baker to take a nap, because the older man had been awake over 42 hours. Now that the boys were there, John felt a little more secure and had ageed, accepting the bed a nurse found for him.

          Ray agreed to let the Mountie take over so he could get a cup of coffee, but he wasn't very hungry so he didn't bother with food. He was just stepping off the elevator, onto the floor where Mrs. Baker had been admitted, when he almost walked into a woman waiting for the lift.

        "Ray!" Joyce exclaimed and threw her arms around him in delight, careful of the coffee he held. "How are you? You look great." She smacked his chest playfully. "Why haven't you called me?"

        Ray stared at her, speechless. He stepped back and moved closer to the wall.

        "What's wrong?" Joyce asked, frowning at his wariness. "Did I do something to upset you?"

        "No," Ray admitted, quietly. "I...I'm just surprised to see you. What...what are you doing here?"

        Joyce smirked. "Oh, I'm here visiting a friend for the holidays and she went and broke her foot at a party earlier."

        "Sorry to hear that," Ray offered, glancing down at his coffee.

        "Are you visiting someone too?" Joyce inquired, politely.

       Ray nodded. "Um..., yah dat...the couple I told you about, the Bakers. Mrs. B. had a heart attack, she's in ICU."

        Joyce stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. "Oh, Ray I'm so sorry," she offered gently. "Do they think she'll pull through?"

        Ray shrugged. "Dunno, just have to wait and...and hope she does."

        Joyce nodded, sympathetically. "I'll say a prayer for her at Christmas Mass," she promised.

        Ray allowed himself a small smile. "That's nice, thank you. She'd appreciate it."

        Joyce regarded him quietly for a minute. "Ray, you...seem uncomfortable, have I...do you regret our....what we did?"

        Ray thought for a moment and realized in all honesty that he didn't. He felt guilty about it, because of Stella. "No," he denied. "I don't regret it, Joyce I...I've just had some...some problems. I'm sorry I didn't call ya."

        Joyce smiled again and caressed his forearm, affectionately. "That's okay," she assured. "I'll be in town for awhile, you could make it up to me."

        Ray stepped away from her again. "No, Joyce I...I don't think I can, I'm sorry."

        Joyce frowned. "So...that's all it was to you then? A one night stand?"

        "I never meant fer it ta happen, but no, it was way more than dat, honestly." Ray sighed and scratched his jaw, uneasily. "I'm...it's complicated."

        "You're married." Joyce accused, softly.

        "Yea," Ray shook his head. "I mean no, not...not anymore. We...I'm divorced."

        Joyce nodded in understanding. "But you still love her?"

        Ray nodded, miserably.

        Joyce lowered her eyes for a long time, before finally meeting his gaze again. "Do you...do you think you and she might ever....reconcile?"

        Ray considered that notion for all of two minutes. His heart screamed yes but his mind knew Stella would never marry him again. Sure, she still loved him and they might even get to be pretty close again, but it would never be what they had; what Ray wanted with her.

        "No, probably not," he admitted, truthfully. "I...that's not all." Ray paused as someone approached. He chewed on his lower lip waited until the two orderlies and nurse passed them. "Can...let's go somewhere...um, private."

        Joyce nodded and followed him to one of the secluded waiting rooms. They stepped inside and Ray closed the door behind them. Joyce settled one of the small sofas and Ray joined her, setting his coffee on the table.

        "So, what else is there?" she encouraged. "I...I want you to know that I really, really like you, Ray. I think we could have something very special if you...well if you gave us a chance."

        Ray looked at her, lowered his eyes, then raised them again. He cupped his hands together as he sat on an angle, half facing her, and rested his arms on his knees. "You're special, Joyce," he offered, softly. "You're great really and I...I think...I really like you too."

        "But?" Joyce prodded.

        "I'm a little...um...messed up still," Ray confessed. "I...I wasn't completely honest with you before. I...I was in an accident a couple of months back and I...well I don't remember...a lot."

        "About the accident?"

        "About...the last fourteen years." Ray waited for the pity to appear in her expression, the horror to claim her and the sympathetic overtures to roll off her tongue.

        When Joyce remained silent, Ray found himself telling her everything, all about waking up in the hospital and thinking he was in college. He told her about Stella and Fraser and being a cop and how confusing it all had been, how hard it was still to deal with. He wanted her to understand why he had stayed away, why he had not called her and how messed up he still was.

        Joyce simply stared at him with quiet fascination. "That's incredible," she whispered, when he finally finished. "How ironic."

        Ray blinked. "Ironic?" he asked, puzzled.

        Joyce smiled, shyly and looked away. "I...I wasn't completely honest with you, either, Ray," she admitted. "I...there's a reason I've been so many things, traveled to so many places. I...I've been searching for who I am."

        "W...what?" Ray asked, confused.

        Joyce's smile broadened and she lifted her eyes to his. "I have no memory before the age of fourteen, Ray," she confessed. "I was in a very bad accident that left me with almost total amnesia. I didn't know who I was or where I belonged. The people in the car with me were not my parents and no one seemed to know who they were, so there was no way to identify me, no family to call."

        "My God," Ray croaked, reaching for her hands and enfolding them into his. "I'm so sorry Joyce, I didn't know, I..."

        "You didn't know because I didn't tell you," Joyce insisted, squeezing his fingers. "For the same reason you didn't tell me about your condition; the fear of pity or misunderstanding."

        Ray nodded in agreement. She understood exactly what he was going through. She was right, it was ironic that they had found each other. "Do...did you ever remember? Did you ever learn who you were?"

        Joyce nodded. "Eventually, a few years later I learned my real name and where I grew up. I had no living relatives, so there was little else that could be explained." She shrugged. "So, I decided that since I didn't have a past, I was going to make my future as memorable as I possibly could. I thought about the things I'd like to do and I set out to do them. Pass or fail didn't matter, as long as I tried."

        "You're very brave," Ray commended. "I...I don't think I could be that brave."

        Joyce smiled again. "Don't you think you already have, Ray?" she asked. "You're still here, aren't you? Fighting to find your place in the world again? You're just as brave as me, perhaps more so because you have to deal with people that knew you and things they know happened that you don't have any memory of."

        Ray was compelled to touch her and he reached up to caress the soft skin of her cheek. "I guess we're two peas in a pod," he decided, gently. "Each just tryin' ta find our way."

        Joyce nodded and curled into his touch. "I can wait, Ray," she offered. "I can wait until you know how you feel about your ex-wife, and being a cop and all of that." She smiled. "You'd be worth the wait, Ray, well worth it."

        Ray regarded her for a long time, searching for the words she deserved to hear. It would be so easy to just give himself over to her, to be with her. It probably would be good between them. But his heart belonged to Stella, didn't it? They made promises before God to love and cherish each other until death, how could Ray forget their vows?

        Stella did, a voice inside his head shouted. Stella has moved on with her life, but could Ray? A life without Stella? He loved her, didn't he? He lowered his eyes, thoughtfully. He was only twenty-two, did he even know what real love was? Okay, so he wasn't twenty-two anymore, but his mind was and so was his heart. Maybe it was okay to love someone and not be married to them. Maybe Stella and him really were only meant to be friends. There was life outside of Stella, he could care for another woman, Joyce was proof of that.

        Ray cupped Joyce's cheek and pulled her closer for a gentle kiss. "Ya won't have to wait long," he promised.
 
        Joyce smiled and returned his kiss.
 

         Two days later was Christmas Eve and the Kowalski's had called and asked Ray to come to  dinner, but Ray had politely declined and explained to his Mother why he couldn't make it. Barbara accepted his reason, but Damien had been angry and had started yelling at his son again. Ray couldn't be bothered by his father's tantrum and actually hung up on the older man.

         Ray and Fraser had left the hospital for a couple of hours, to shower and change and Ray had found a tabletop tree and some decorations that were in his apartment. They returned to the hospital and set it up in Mrs. Baker's room. Fraser had brought along a small portable stereo to play Christmas carols and had purchased some holly to hang around the room for effect. They had even tied a big red bow around Diefenbaker, for Mary Ann to see when she awoke. The wolf was being surprisingly complacent and Fraser was grateful to him.

         Since Mrs. Baker couldn't leave to go somewhere for Christmas, they were bringing it to her. Even Lieutenant Welsh and Elaine showed up with some eggnog and a meat and vegetable tray that they had picked up at a local deli. They took turns visiting with Mary Ann, each offering their little bit of Christmas spirit

         Ray was perched in the chair beside Mary Ann's bed, wearing his glasses and a festive green sweater for the season. He was reading to her from Dickens', A Christmas Carol,. He glanced up when he heard a quiet voice by the door, and was surprised to find Stella standing there. He saved his place in the book and rose as she entered.

         "Hi," he greeted, surprised. He had missed his lunch date with her because he'd wanted to be here for the older lady if she woke. "W…what are you doin' here, Stell?"

         "I…Mum told me what happened," Stella offered, kindly. "I'm sorry for your friend, Ray. Will…do they think she'll pull through?"

         "She'll pull through," Ray decided, firmly. "She's strong, she'll be just fine. Um… they have some food and stuff in the waiting area…"

         "I didn't come here for that, Ray," she dismissed.

        Ray tried to ignore his hammering heart as she moved closer. She was a vision in her long green raglan and red sequined dress.

        Stella continued. "I just wanted to see if you were okay."

         "I'm fine, Stell," he assured, quietly, glancing at Mary Ann. "It's Mrs. B. I'm worried about. She's been great to me, Stell, I don't want…" He lowered his eyes and grew quiet again.

        Stella moved closer and placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sure she'll be fine, Ray," she promised softly. "Like you said, she's strong."

        Ray nodded.

        "Would…may I stay with you awhile?"

        His head shot up surprised as he met her gaze. "You don't have to, Stella," he protested. "I'm sure ya have…plans."

        Stella shook her head, surprised he wouldn't jump at the chance to have her here, but then, Ray wasn't as possessive as he used to be. It was ironic that it took becoming a young man again to enable Ray to handle their divorce with more maturity than he could as his older self.

        Stella smiled. "No, I don't have any plans," she denied. That was mostly true, she had canceled her date with the senator to be here with her ex-husband. "May I stay, help bring in the Christmas spirit? Maybe your Mrs. B. would like some female company for a change."

         "Oh Stell," Ray whispered and pulled her into his embrace. "I do love you. This means…dis means a lot to me. It's real good of ya. You always had such a kind heart."

        Stella returned his embrace just as firmly. It was so nice to be able to offer him comfort and show that she cared without him trying to turn it into a reconciliation for them. She didn't have to be harsh or rude for him to get the picture anymore.

        "I know, baby," she admitted. "That's why I'm here." Stella smiled, her eyes shining suspiciously, and stepped back. "How about I read to her for awhile, you go get something to eat?"

         "Um…" Ray hesitated, looked back at the beloved woman, and nodded. "Okay but…but you'll come get me if…"

        Stella nodded and gave him a gentle push toward the door, after taking the book. "I'll let you know if there's any change," she promised,  "now go."

         Ray leaned down to kiss her, then returned to kiss Mary Ann's cheek, before heading out. He was surprised to enter the waiting room, where John, Fraser, and the others were all trying to keep the festive spirit alive, to find his parents standing there.

        Barbara hurried over, as was her way, and immediately had to get her hug. "Oh Stanley," she greeted. "How is she, honey? Is there any change? Oh the poor woman. You look tired, Stanley, are you eating? Have you slept at all? Your father and I were on our way home from church and we wanted to stop and wish you a Merry Christmas."

         "Merry Christmas, Mum," Ray returned and straightened from their hug.

         "Can I talk to you fer a minute, Son?" Damien requested, quietly.

        Ray tried not to show his apprehension at being alone with his father again. He released a long, slow, breath, not really in the mood for another confrontation. His eyes met Fraser's across the room and he gathered strength from the Mountie's encouraging gaze.

        Finally, he nodded to his father. "Sure Dad," he decided.

         Walking out of the waiting room, Ray headed further down the hall toward a window, to allow them privacy. His father followed quietly, and didn't speak until he was standing next to his son. Ray folded his arms defensively across his chest and leaned up against the window, keeping his eyes on the floor. God he was so not in the mood for more fighting.

         "Raymond, I'd like you to come home with us," Damien stated. "You're Mother is going to fix a big dinner for tomorrow and she wants you to be there for Christmas morning."

         "I can't, Dad," Ray replied, quietly. "I already explained dat to Mum and to you."

         "Look, " his father began frustrated. "I understand ya feel affection fer dis woman, but she is not yer family."

         "Don't start on dat again, Dad," Ray warned impatiently, and lifted his eyes to meet Damien's gaze. "We've been down dat road already."

         "It's Christmas, Raymond!" Damien insisted. "Now, I know you probably don't remember, but we've missed a lot of Christmases with you over the years. Dis year, with everything else that's happened, yer Mother wants you with her. As her son, how can ya deny her dat?"

         "I'm not denying her…" Ray protested but Damien cut him off.

         "Fer God's sake, Raymond!" he declared exasperated. "Can't you just do dis one thing? Do you have to refuse everything I ask of you? I am yer father, show some respect fer a change. If not fer me den fer yer Mother."

         Ray was silent for a long time. When he finally did speak his voice was sad and wistful. "Ya know somethin' Dad? All I ever wanted was to make you proud of me. I never wanted to go against yer wishes or do somethin' ya didn't want me to do."

        Ray shook his head, regretfully. How could he ever make his father understand, when the man was so frightened by a past that Ray no longer remembered. Whatever had transpired between them must have been awful for the Damien to work so hard to change Ray's present, but Ray didn't know what that was and he didn't want to know.

        "I did want ya to think I did good," he began again. "But, these past few weeks, I finally realized, I don't care if you're ever proud of me. I'm proud of me, Dad. I'm proud of the person I was before, even if I don't remember him, and I'm proud of the person I am now. Know why? Because I'm not gonna spend my life lookin' fer yer idea of happiness and fulfillment. Maybe losing' my memory was the best thing dat ever happened to me."

         "How can you say dat!" his father demanded. "For the love of God, Son. No one should have to go through what you have."

         Ray, touched by his father's concern, was still unable to dispel the damage that Damien's words had delivered.  He smirked." A couple of days ago ya were tellin' me it was a gift from God," he reminded.

        Ray lowered his eyes ashamed, when his father winced. Okay, that was un-called for. He sighed. "Look, I'm not sayin' it ain't been hell, Dad," he admitted. "But it's shown me things dat…I...I suspect I might not have had the confidence to recognize before. I got a good job helpin' people and I'm good at it. I got great friends who have supported me and shown me how much dey like me, by just sticking with me through this. It couldn't be easy fer any of them, knowin' I don't remember 'em. Maybe I will find another woman like Stella to make me a little bit happier." Maybe he already had." Mostly I have two very special parents, whom I love so much, dat sometimes I just wanna weep at the joy of bein' yer son."

         "Raymond," his father croaked, shocked.

         Ray saw the beginning of tears in his father's eyes. "I'll never be able to explain how much you and Mum mean to me," he continued, his own eyes suspiciously moist. "There are no words to express it. If I never told ya before, if I...was distant and un-loving fer any reason I'm sorry. But I will explain that the woman in dat bed in there has been my comfort, my light in these past few weeks of darkness, and I will not let her down. I will be here fer her like she was fer me, because dat's what loving someone is, Dad. Ya have to be there fer dem, support 'em during good and bad times."

         Damien Kowalski stared at his son as if seeing him for the first time. He could not believe the things that Ray was saying to him, and he didn't know how to respond. They never talked about this emotional stuff, what was a father to do? He still wanted to protect Ray, he couldn't help that, but how could he stay angry with someone that was so willing to put his own heart on the line for what he believed? He was startled when Ray stepped forward and kissed his cheek, affectionately.

         "I don't care if ya never settle with me bein' a cop, or accept me as the man I am," Ray murmured. "It's not all dat I am. I'm you're son, too and dat holds a lot more weight in my heart. Maybe one day you'll accept the both of us."

         Ray lowered his eyes and turned around to head back toward Mrs. Baker's room as his father stared after him.

        Damien shook his head sadly and headed back to retrieve his wife. At the door of the waiting room, he saw that Barbara was chatting with Elaine and Fraser.

        John Baker spotted Damien and walked over to extend his hand warmly. "You must be Ray's father," he greeted. "I'm John Baker, Ray calls me Mr. B.," he smiled as Damien slowly shook his hand. "Can't get him to call me John, says his folks always told him it was disrespectful to refer to his elders by their first name.

         "He…it's how he was raised," Damien admitted, uneasily.

         "He's a fine boy, you must be so proud of him," John continued, unaware of Damien's discomfort. "He helped us repair our property like a real champ. We own some small cabins that we rent out to the tourists during the summer. Ray was honest, said he didn't know much about repair, but all I had to do was tell him what needed to be done and there he was, doing it."

         "That so?" Damien muttered, trying to catch his wife's attention so they could leave. He certainly did not want to stand here talking to this man about Ray, but John seemed oblivious to Damien's mood.

         "Don't see many young men nowadays that are so willing to work at hard labor," John insisted cheerfully. "And he's so polite and tender hearted, he and my wife really hit it off. Ray and I were fixing up my old truck and he told me all about the car you two built. Said it was the best time of his life."

         "Raymond said dat?" Damien asked, startled.

         John nodded. "Oh yes, he talked about you both," he insisted with a fond smile. "We could see how much he loved and respected you both. We lost one son to the war and our other son never comes to see us. It's wonderful to meet a man who is not afraid to show how much he cares about his folks, to the point of bragging he was."

         "Really?" Damien was astounded. He would never have thought his son would talk about him and Barbara, especially him.

        He and Raymond never got along that well, it seemed. Well, actually they had been pretty close, until Raymond dropped out of school. Was the boy right about Damien hanging onto only the bad stuff from their past?  Raymond no longer remembered that awful time but for Damien it was very clear and he didn't want to loose his son again. It seemed so long ago that he and Raymond were good with each other, yet Ray obviously remembered those times clearly.

        Maybe Damien had approached this all wrong. He honestly thought he'd been given a second chance with Raymond, because his son no longer remembered how Damien had practically disowned him for so many years. He just didn't want Ray's being a cop to come between them again, so he had tried to talk Ray into doing something else. Maybe he shouldn't be working so hard to change Ray's career. maybe Damien should be more intent on learning the acceptance he didn't have before, the acceptance that could have saved he and Raymond years of misery.

         "A great chess player too, a real strategist," John continued bringing Damien out of his thoughts.

        Damien gaped at him. Raymond, playing chess? That was a game of mental skill, Raymond had never seemed to be able to concentrate on anything. Yet, this man claimed his son was good at it. "You…he played chess with you?" he repeated.

         John nodded with a smile. "And cards and checkers and whatever else I could find for him to play," he chuckled. "He was very accommodating to an old man's boredom I suppose. Of course he also fixed our property fence, the cabins, rewired a few things, he was wonderful. So much energy that boy has!"

         "Ray did all dat?" Damien croaked.

         "And more," John insisted. "Of course, he had some problems, what with his memory and everything and the terrible headaches he got. He gave us quite the scare when he caught pneumonia."

         "What!" Damien gasped. His son had been terribly sick and had not even called to tell them.

         "Oh, but Benton and Mary Ann took great care of him," John assured quickly. "Ray wouldn't go to the hospital, so they did what they could there. Ray pulled through real well and then, he wasn't even quite better, when he took off to help that young officer friend of his." John shook his head, affectionately. "He's very loyal to the people he loves, he must get that from you, Sir."

        Damien blinked.

        "He's been a godsend for my Mary Ann," John confessed, fondly.

         "I…It was real nice to meet you," Damien finally stammered and waved at his wife. "We have to go."

        John nodded, wished them a Merry Christmas and watched them leave.

         As they passed the ICU room that held Mrs. Baker, Damien Kowalski paused and glanced inside. Ray was back to reading from his book of Dickens, his soft voice no doubt a comfort to the woman beside him, even though she was not yet awake.

         "My dad used to read this to us every year when we were little, Mrs. B.,"  Ray paused to explain. "It was my favorite part of Christmas, because I got to sit on his lap, or close to him, and help him read it. I liked bein' close to him, but he was…well he wasn't much for showing affection." Ray shrugged. "That's okay though, I just looked forward to Christmas that much more."

         Ray continued reading and Damien Kowalski lowered his eyes and moved past the room, unseen.
 

         Fraser stared out at the gently falling snow, as the sun rose in the horizon, then moved away from the window.  It was a little after seven on Christmas Morning and they had been there all night. Welsh was snoring quietly in a chair in the corner, Dief at his feet, also snoring. Elaine had left a couple of hours ago to report for midnight shift at the precinct, but promised to call and check in later. Stella and Welsh had stayed for the duration, both claiming they had nowhere better to be. 

        He smiled at the sight of his partner, curled up on the small sofa, asleep, his head in Stella's lap. Fraser had covered Ray with the detective's longer raglan, so he wouldn't get a chill. Stella Kowalski had drifted off at some point, sitting up, her fingers coiled through Ray's blond hair. Earlier, they had spoken quietly about a woman named Joyce.

        Although, Fraser tried not to eavesdrop, his keen hearing did pick up a few things, and he gathered that Joyce was a woman that Ray had met and become fond of. He was happy for his partner, happier still that Ray and Stella were able to discuss moving on with their lives, without all the nastiness and hurt that had been between them before. He hoped this Joyce person would be good for Ray and treat him right.

        "She's awake!" John Baker crowed suddenly, poking his head into the waiting room.

        John had been sitting with his wife when she had suddenly awakened and smiled at him. He had called the nurse in and she quickly located the Doctor. They checked Mary Ann's vitals and pulled her  off the respirator, because she was breathing well on her own. John had waited impatiently until they had finished fussing over his wife then he moved to sit beside her. They had been talking a good while, when Mary Ann commented on the lovely decorations in her room. John, suddenly, remembered the other people waiting outside who also cared so much for his wife and he had rushed out to tell them the good news.

         Ray and Welsh bolted awake, Stella slept on, undisturbed. Perhaps Ray had been correct in reporting that it would take an act of God to get his ex-wife out of bed; she did seem to be a sound sleeper.

         "She's awake!" Ray repeated eagerly, and quickly lowered his voice. He rose carefully, lay Stella across the sofa and placed his coat over her as he moved toward Mr. Baker. "How is she? Is she okay?"

         "She's fine!" John nodded, unashamed at the tears that slid down his cheeks, as he accepted an enthusiastic hug from the detective. "Go see her, she's thrilled with all the things you put in her room."

        Ray grinned and glanced at Fraser, who moved with him, as Welsh stood to congratulate John on his wife's recovery.

         Mary Ann brightened immediately upon the pair's arrival and held her arms out toward them weakly. They each gave her a careful hug and kiss. Her color was slightly improved and she seemed in good spirits.

         "John said you did this for me," she commented, indicating the festive decorations in her room. "Thank you Sweetcakes. Did I scare you?"

         "Nah," Ray lied. "Just don't do it again!" she giggled and Ray's heart leapt in his chest. He was so glad she was okay.

         "How do you feel, Mrs. Baker?" Fraser inquired, kindly.

        Mary Ann smiled at him. "Tired," she admitted, then reached for Ray's hand, and squeezed it. "But loved."

        Ray grinned.

        "Now why aren't you with your folks?" Mary Ann continued. "John tells me it's Christmas day."

         "I…I didn't want to leave you," Ray admitted. "I wanted to spend Christmas with you. Mr. B. said you were coming down to see me and…"

         Mary Ann nodded. "Of course we were," she agreed, "but, that was for Christmas Eve, you have a family, Stanley Ray. You should be with them today."

        Ray's gaze hardened. "My dad still doesn’t understand…" he protested.

        Mary Ann waved his words away. "Of course he doesn't," she confirmed. "He's old, like me, we're set in our ways, honey. Now, go to him, tell him you love him, ignore everything else he says and wish him a Merry Christmas."

         "But…"

         "No arguments," she warned. "You can come and visit me later. Go on now. Don't make me get out of this bed and take you over my knee."

        Ray smiled and bent to kiss her cheek. He pulled the St. Christopher's medal from around his neck and gently fastened it around her. "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow dis. It helped a lot," he whispered in her ear. "I love you, Mrs. B."

        Mary Ann took the opportunity to ruffle his hair playfully, and smiled as she held out his bracelet, which she had asked John to retrieve from her purse earlier. "I love you too, Sweetcakes," she assured as she tried to fasten it around his wrist with shaking fingers.

        Ray pulled his hand away and surprised her by securing it on her own wrist. It was too big for her tiny wrist, and she could almost wear it as an anklet, but she was touched by his gesture. "You keep it," he requested softly, "at least until you get out of here; it will bring you luck."

        Mary Ann blinked back her tears for the second time and cast him a stern look. "Be off with you, then," she demanded. "Go spend Christmas with your family."

        Ray smiled and moved aside as she lifted her cheek toward Fraser, who bent and kissed her dutifully.

         "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Baker," he offered smiling and she returned the sentiment.

         They left the room, explained to John that they would be back later, and gathered their things from the waiting area. Stella was awake and smiling when they entered. She hugged Ray and told him how glad she was that Mrs. Baker was going to be okay.

         "Would you like to come to Christmas dinner at Mum and Dad's?" Ray inquired and she brightened and agreed.

         "Would you mind dropping Diefenbaker and myself at the Consulate, Ray?" Fraser inquired as they headed out of the hospital. Stella had her own car and had promised to meet them at his folk's trailer.

          "Yes I would, Ben," Ray replied as the trio slid into the ivory Chevy Caprice that Ray had burrowed from the department, while his GTO was in the shop.

        Fraser obviously had not expected that and stared at him confused.

        "You're comin' to dinner too," Ray explained.

         "Ray I don't think…" Fraser began, knowing how Damien Kowalski felt about him.

         "Yer comin' buddy," Ray decided as he started the engine. "Deal with it."

        Fraser sat back and remained silent, knowing better than to argue.

         They stopped at Ray's apartment to shower and change, then headed over to the Mobile Home park. They arrived at the Kowalski's small lot about an hour later, and noticed that Stella was not yet there, no doubt she also had stopped at her apartment to change. They got out and Ray knocked on the door. He could smell the turkey cooking already and knew his Mother had probably been up since dawn. She opened the door and threw her arms around him, surprised.

         "Any room at the inn?" Ray teased and Barbara's eyes grew moist, as she pulled them inside the warm and cozy mobile home.

         "Raymond," Damien greeted surprised, as they entered the small living area. His father had been brooding in the recliner and rose at their arrival.

         "I thought we'd take you up on yer dinner invitation, Dad," Ray stated, hesitantly. "Mrs. B woke up, she's doin' real good."

         "Oh, Stanley!" Barbara clapped her hands together. "I'm so glad. Of course you can both stay." Diefenbaker barked and she laughed. "And you too, of course."

        Ray was still waiting for his father's response and Fraser was standing anxiously behind his partner.

         "I…I thought about what you said, Son," Damien informed finally. "You're right, I…I was focused so much on...on what happened before, I wasn't payin' any attention to what was happenin' now. I...I guess I just never wanted to share you, Raymond. You're brother has no time fer us, I didn't want to lose you too and I thought I had when you became a cop. I didn't want to lose ya again, Son." His voice trembled slightly. "I was so focused on who I wanted you to be...that I missed the chance to get to know who you are."

         "Dad," Ray croaked emotionally. He shook his head, trying to halt his father's words, knowing  how hard it was for the older man to say them.

          "I told myself that if by some miracle you ever spoke to me again I'd be honest with ya, Raymond," Damien paused and Ray was too shocked to speak. "I love ya, Son, and I am very, very proud of you, always have been. I...I'm sorry I never told you before and I...I accept dat you've grown into a fine, strong man with responsibilities, and good friends. I know ya don’t need me anymore."

         Ray stared at him, feeling a sense of disbelief, as well as relief. Finally he took the first step and moved forward to offer his hand to his father. "I still need ya, Dad," he promised in a voice wrought with emotion. "I'll always need you. You and Mum are what keep me goin' and reminds me of who I am. I am yer son and I am very, very grateful fer dat. I love you."

         Barbara wiped at her tears and leaned on Fraser's arm for support, as she watched her husband and son embrace for the first time in almost ten years, other than when Ray awoke in the hospital.

        Ray's eyes had closed, his expression showing a kind of rapture at his father's final acceptance.

        The Mountie's own eyes were suspiciously moist, as he watched them, and he thought of his own father, who hadn't been as brave as Damien, and never voiced his pride in his son.

        Damien Kowalski finally stepped away from his son's arms and extended his hand to Fraser. "Merry Christmas, Benton," he offered and Fraser shook his hand. "Glad to have you here."

         "Merry Christmas to you, Sir," Fraser returned, trying not to show his astonishment. "Thank you for having me."

         "Hey!" Stella Kowalski declared as she entered the trailer and took in the scene. "Move outta my way, Mountie, I'm starving!"

        Everyone laughed as Fraser quickly stepped aside and allowed her to enter further.

        Stella hugged Barbara and Damien, then captured Ray's hand in hers. "How about we make the dinner this year?"

         Ray stared down at her, grinning. They would be okay. Maybe not what they were before, but they were good. "Me…you and me?" he asked amazed and she nodded. His smile was well worth any misgivings she may have felt at suggesting it. "Yah, Um…if Mum doesn't mind."

         "Have at it!" Barbara encouraged settling into the recliner with a flourish and putting her feet up. "Turkey's cooking, you two can do the rest."

         "Should we have the paramedics standing by?" Damien teased, surprising them all. He knew of his ex-daughter in law's lack of ability in the kitchen.

        Stella glared at him and tossed her hair haughtily. "Ray won't let me poison any of you," she assured and smiled up at Ray charmingly. "Will you, lover?"

         Ray shook his head, unable to speak due to the joy in his heart. He didn't know what was going on, or if any of this feeling would last, but right now he had gained acceptance from two of the people that meant the most to him and it felt wonderful. Lovers or friends, married or happily coexisting, he and Stella would always be together, on some level.

        Stella grabbed Fraser's hand as well.  "You can be on KP duty," she decided and Fraser dutifully nodded.
 
        "Maybe after dinner we can fit dat new muffler I found fer the GTO, Raymond," Damien suggested, hopefully.

         Fraser turned back in time to see Ray pale.

        "Um...Dad....about da car...."
 

         The meal was a great success and Fraser had been impressed at his partner's cooking ability. Ray survived the truth about the GTO and gracefully accepted his father affectionately calling him a dumb son of a bitch. Ray promised to bring the car by, after it got out of the shop, for Damien's thorough  inspection. Damien threatened to take away his son's keys to it if it ever happened again, as he used to when Ray was a teenager.

        Afterwards, there were gifts to open and egg nog to drink. Stella and the Kowalski's all traded tales of past Christmases, much to Ray's chagrin, for he seemed to be the topic of most of them, and Fraser listened amused. Fraser observed the happiness radiating from his partner, as Stella snuggled next to Ray on the love seat. Their closeness seemed more affectionate than sexual, like best friends would be, and Fraser realized they had both finally accepted their new relationship gracefully.

         Finally, the women and Fraser offered to clean up. Damien had drifted off in his chair with a sated Dief at his feet, and Ray had stepped outside. Fraser helped the women with the dishes and then went to find his partner. He stepped outside and shrugged into his coat, before heading toward the small pond where his friend stood, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue. The sky had darkened to a deep midnight blue and the collage of stars brightened his way across the snow.

         "Ray?" he inquired, closing the distance between them and waited until Ray turned toward him. "Are you all right?"

         "I'm good, Ben," Ray returned quietly, shoving his hands into his coat pocket. "Just thinkin'."

         "Would you care to tell me what you are thinking?" Fraser inquired, politely.

         "I'm wonderin' if I'll ever be the same," Ray replied.

         "The same as what, Ray?"

         "As I was…before...ya know, before I lost my memory?" Ray shivered slightly in the cold. "What if my memory never comes back fully? What if I'm stuck like dis and I don't remember anymore than what I do now?"

         "What if you are, Ray?" Fraser challenged. "You've developed a sense of who you are, without the memories. You know who you were before and you know who you are now. Will getting all of your memory back change you from the person you are now? Certainly. Does it matter? Not really."

         "Don't you want me to be who I was, Ben?" Ray asked honestly.

        Fraser glanced away from a moment, then returned his gaze to his partner. "I did at first, Ray," he admitted. "I was sick with the idea that you were different from the man I knew. However, you gave me the chance to know the person you are now and I like you just as much. Any change from that, memories or no memories, will not change how I feel about you. We will still be partners and friends."

         "Would you even tell me if you didn't feel the same?" Ray challenged. "I mean, bein' so polite and all, wouldn't it go against some kind of Mountie code?"

        Fraser smirked. "My only code is honesty, Ray," he assured, sensing his friend's doubts. "What can I do to prove to you that I am sincere?" He smiled, remembering how Ray had reacted to the Buddy Breathing memory. "Shall I kiss you, Ray? Would you believe me then?"

         Ray stared at him flabbergasted, until he saw the corners of Fraser's mouth twitching and he realized the Mountie was teasing him.

        On an impulse, Ray decided to return the sentiment. "Okay," he dared, expecting the Mountie to blush and start stammering.

         Fraser barely showed his surprise, before his features became neutral again. He caught Ray's face between his hands and pressed his lips to his partner's. Just a plain, ordinary kiss, closed mouth, and between two men. He released his friend and stepped back, waiting for the boom to fall. Either Ray would laugh it off or he would explode, Fraser was interested to see what the 'new' Ray would do.

         "Fraser," Ray began slowly and the Mountie watched him closely.

         "Yes, Ray?"

         "Never do dat again," Ray warned.

        Fraser bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, no sense pressing his luck. "Understood," he agreed, then added. "Not even if you are drowning, Ray?"

        Kowalski partner was struggling with a smile of his own. "We'll cross dat bridge when we come to it," he decided, then grew serious. "What if I never completely remember our partnership, though, Ben? I mean, the way it was before?"

        Fraser finally smiled. "Perhaps that would be a good thing," he teased. "You won't remember all the wildly bizarre ways I have tried to endanger your life."

        Ray chuckled.

        Fraser stepped forward and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Old memories or new memories, Ray, they'll all be precious."

        "What about when Vecchio comes back?" Ray asked, quietly.
 
        "We'll have a goalie for hockey," Fraser returned, grinning. Of course he knew Ray Vecchio would not last against he and Kowalski, the Italian could hardly skate.  He became serious. "We'll still have many more adventures, Ray and we'll see them through together."

         "Because dat's what partners do," Ray surmised, softly.

         Fraser nodded. "And that's what friends do," he added. "We are a duet, a one-two punch. I set them up…"

         "And I knock 'em down," Ray finished shyly, then moved in to give the Mountie a quick hug. "Thanks, Ben. I love ya, Buddy."

         "And I you, Ray," Fraser returned.
 
 

The end.
visit my web page