Rated PG for mature subject matter. Death Story/Angst/Drama Sequel to Say Good Night. Thanks for all the great feedback I received from you guys on the previous story. Hope this one meets your requirements. I offer a box of virtual tissues to any that might need them. :)
 

By: Amethyst

        Fraser sat beside the Kowalski's as the priest read the eulogy over the casket that held Ray's body. Barbara was gripping his hand and her husband's to stay upright, even in her seat. She was tempted to throw herself onto the coffin before them. It wasn't right that a parent should outlive their child. She didn't know what she would have done these last few days without the strong Mountie beside her. Damien had closed in on himself, refusing to speak or comment on what had happened.

         When Fraser and his wolf had shown up at their door with the Detective her son had pretended to be, Barbara had known something was wrong and she instantly became hysterical. It was too soon. Stanley had only just told them, they hadn't had the chance to spend more time with him, or say the things they had wanted to, and now it was too late.

         Damien had refused to speak to Fraser at all, perhaps he felt if the words were not spoken aloud then that made then less real. He had left the room and had not returned while the Mountie and Ray comforted his wife. Damien had gone for a walk outside their trailer park and then gotten into his car and drove off. He  ended up outside his son's apartment building, staring at the lovingly polished GTO that was still parked in its usual space.

          Damien Kowalski glanced over at Fraser, on the other side of Barbara, and his mouth thinned noticeably.  He was furious. There was no other way to explain the way he had felt. Raymond was wrong not to tell them sooner about his condition, hell he had gone halfway across the world with the Mountie on some fool adventure instead of staying here in Chicago and dealing with the matter at hand. Now Damien could not look at the Canadian without thinking of the time wasted that he could have had with his son and how Fraser had seemed to replace he and Barbara in Raymond's life.

         Granted, he had not always gotten along with his son, especially when Raymond had foolishly decided to become a cop, but Damien had finally adjusted to that. He had even come to realize how good a police officer his son was and was at least attempting to rectify their damaged relationship. He knew Raymond no longer felt comfortable around them. Damien had noticed it their first day back and he had been devastated by that reality. People though that he didn't love his son, but he did. He just had a difficult time relating to Raymond. Then, to make things worse, he and Barbara they couldn't see or speak to him often because he was on assignment as the Mountie's absent partner.

        Damien looked bitterly toward Fraser and was suddenly gazing into solemn, cerulean eyes. They were filled with such sadness and despair that it almost took the older man's breath way. He acknowledged that the Canadian had cared about his son, but he did not realize how very much Fraser had loved Raymond, until this moment.

        Damien told himself that the Mountie had only lost a pretend partner; Damien and Barbara had lost their beautiful, gentle and loving son. However, the forlorn depth in Fraser's shimmering gaze showed that he had lost someone much more important, his best friend.  Damien quickly lowered his gaze, unwilling to see the depth of the Mountie's grief. He convinced himself that he didn't care about Fraser hurt pain.

         His eyes roamed the church, regarding the other people that had shown up to honor his son and pay their last respects. Most of the people from the department were there, seated a few rows back.  A group the Kowalski's learned was the family of the man their son had portrayed, for over a year, were seated across the isle from the Kowalski's. Stella, Raymond's ex-wife, was now engaged to Ray Vecchio and she was seated next to her fiancée.

         A selection of youths from the center Raymond volunteered at were standing quietly at the back of the church, unwilling to intrude but wanting to see their mentor one last time and pay their respects.

        Damien noticed some demurely dressed women in the very back pews of the church, which was surprisingly filled to capacity, and had been told they were actually streetwalkers that knew Raymond from his job. Damien didn't think it was appropriate for them to be here, but Barbara had asked them to stay and told her husband to hush, they were all friends of Stanley.

         The Reverend took a break in the service and announced that the deceased had requested his friend, Benton Fraser to sing a particular song at his funeral. Fraser rose from his seat and moved up toward the altar, turning to the crowd of people curiously watching him.

        When he had agreed to do this for Ray, he had not considered how hard it would be to be staring out at everyone that was still grieving, but he had promised his friend. Although, Fraser could not fully understand why Ray had chosen the particular song he was about to sing, he could not fault him for it. Taking a deep breath and without any accompaniment Fraser began to sing. His sweet voice filling the church as he put every ounce of feeling into the words that he could manage.

         Fraser's voice broke and wobbled slightly toward the end of the final verse. His eyes closed in concentration, trying to keep his tone clear and pure, as visions of he and Ray sledding through the snow covered wilderness assailed him. Their nights by the fire, their arguments and their snowball fights.

        Everything that personified their relationship he could see behind his closed lids and when he realized that he had stopped singing and the song had ended he opened his eyes to see that there was not a dry eye in the church after his tribute. He paused beside the closed casket that held his partner's form and gently touched it. He was torn between laughter and tears as he remembered he and Ray making the funeral arrangements.
 
 

        "Oooh," Ray teased as they walked into the lobby of the solemn but decorative funeral parlor. "Deja-vu, Fraser. Feel like we've been this route before."

        Fraser smiled at him, trying not to show his sadness and trepidation at their task. Ray had wanted everything worked out before he died so no one had to do anything but show up and toss him in the ground. Fraser also remembered his attempt to fake his own death so they could catch a mobster smuggling bodies. Ray had made the fake arrangements for him then, Now in a sad sense of irony; they were here to make real arrangements for his partner.

        "I don't believe this is quite the same, Ray," he returned, as he knew Ray expected him to.

        "Yeah, " Ray agreed. "This time I'm not gonna get the snot scared out of me by finding you in a closed, air tight coffin."

        Fraser chuckled as the funeral director, Mr. Ladau, approached. The minister presiding over the funeral also joined them. A tall man, younger than Ray, with a kind face.

        "Hello, Benton," he greeted warmly, extending his hand to both men. "Ray, how are you feeling today?"

        The minister and Ray had a long, private talk a few days ago and he had tried to answer as many of the Detective's questions as he could. Over the last two weeks, he had watched Ray's physical condition deteriorate one day and recover the next, like a yo-yo on a string, It was disheartening because everyone were both sympathetic and hopeful at the same time.

        "Hey, Reverend," Ray returned with a smile. "Today's a good day. I'm having a good day today," he winked. "I've only forgotten Fraser's name twice, right buddy?"

        "You're doing remarkably well, Ray," the Mountie encouraged.

        "Excellent!" Reverend Thomas smiled. "You look like you've even put on a little weight, since I saw you last."

        Ray grinned. "Yeah, everyone wants to feed me, I feel like a stuffed pig!"

        All four men chuckled and Mr. Ladau led them into the show room.

        "Here we have our moderately priced models," Mr. Ladau explained. "You did say you preferred something simple. Have we decided what kind of casket we would like?"

        "I don't know, have we decided, Frase?" Ray teased and Fraser poked him in the ribs. He smiled and returned his attention to Mr. Ladau. "Dunno, what'cha got?"

        Ladau showed them a nicely polished mahogany that was set up in the middle of the room. He pointed out the silk interior and the other amenities. "I think this one would suit your purposes, what do you think?"

        Ray glanced over the coffin and a wave of nausea threatened to choke him. Okay, so maybe he wasn't as okay with this as he thought. He cracked a joke to disguise his discomfort.

        "Jump in, Frase, you have more experience than I do."

        "Very funny, Ray," Fraser smirked as the Reverend chuckled behind them. "I think it's very nice."

        "Yeah, okay that one then," Ray decided and turned away. He didn't want to spend any more time than he had too looking at the damn things.

        Fraser touched Ray's arm, in support but Ray waved him off. "I'm cool." He turned to Reverend Thomas. "What else do I have to decide?"

        "Would you prefer an open or closed casket at the service, Ray?" he inquired, gently.

        "Closed," Ray replied without hesitation.

        "If there will be no noticeable damage an open casket is always preferable," Ladau began but Fraser put a warning hand on the director's arm.

        "Closed!" Ray insisted, then calmed himself and lowered his voice. It wasn't their fault that this was creeping him out. Again he deflected his fear with wit. "I hated looking at dead bodies as a cop, I sure don't wanna make anyone look at mine."

        "That sounds perfectly reasonable, Ray," Fraser concurred and shot the director a subtle glance not to press further.

        Ray grinned. "You're so much more agreeable with me lately, Benton buddy," he teased. "Maybe I shoulda told you I was dying months ago."

        Fraser paled and his jaw tightened. The fact that Ray had kept the news of his Cancer to himself for so long still hurt Fraser, a fact that was not lost on the Detective.

        "I'm sorry, Fraser," Ray offered, immediately contrite. "I didn't mean that I...I'm just freakin' a little."

        Fraser nodded, his expression softening. He would not waste what little time Ray had left being angry with his friend.

        "Understood."

         The service ended and Fraser pulled on his white gloves and gave Barbara Kowalski's hand a reassuring squeeze. He, Vecchio in his stylish dark suit, Welsh and Levon, Ray's boxing prodigy from the center, and the two Detective's known as the Duck Boys took their place at Ray's casket.

        All the others were wearing their dress blues, except the Levon who also wore dark suit and Fraser who was in his dress reds. They stood waiting for the signal to carry it to the waiting funeral car outside. Slowly, they lifted the coffin and proceeded out of the church in a slow military march.

         Barbara Kowalski flinched each time the rifles fired in respect for her son as they began lowering the coffin into the dark pit below. She stood beside the grave; her trembling hands clutching her purse as she refused the chair others had offered her. She would stand for her Stanley's last reward she owed him that much.

        It was hard for a Mother to loose her son, especially such a loving and devoted son as Stanley had been to her. Her other son was caring, but rarely attentive and he lived so far away, with his own life and family. Stanley had always made time for his Mother, no matter what he was doing, and Barbara would miss his nightly calls and his tender embraces.

         She felt a gentle prickling against her skin and raised her hand to touch her left cheek. She smiled slightly, at the idea that Stanley might be giving her a farewell kiss. She was a God Fearing woman, she knew her son was in Heaven with the Lord above and that he might be watching her at this moment. She raised her face toward the sun that shone brightly above them, despite the frigid temperatures, and whispered how much she loved him.

         Her eyes fell on her husband's shuttered expression and she prayed that Damien would find a way to deal with the death of their son. Barbara suspected he might be blaming himself for all the time he and Stanley lost over the years, time that could have been spent as father and son that was now forever wasted.

        The only things she and Damien ever fought about were what to call their son and Ray's choice to enter the police academy. Damien always called their son Raymond, Barbara had always called him Stanley; it was a wonder the boy hadn't grown up with an identity complex. Instead, their son had always held a strong sense of who he was and who he wanted to be and Barbara was proud of that.

          In regard to Stanley joining the police academy, Damien needed someone to blame. He could not admit that he might have been the one to drive Stanley away. Damien felt it was Stanley's fault for throwing away the education they had worked hard to provide and becoming a cop, it was Stella's fault for coercing their son into becoming more than he needed to be.  It was Barbara's fault for 'mothering' Stanley and making him a Mama's Boy and not a strong sensible man like his father or brother.

         Barbara suspected that somehow her husband was now blaming the Mountie for the guilt he was feeling about their son, which she could only hope, would eventually lessen. She wanted to remain close to the man that had meant so much to her son, even if it meant going against her husband to do so.

         The Reverend approached and offered the Kowalski's a handful of earth to bless their son's coffin with and the pair stepped forward and sprinkled it over the lowered casket. Barbara Kowalski took part of her soil and stepped up to Fraser, who stood rigidly in place beside Ray Vecchio and his family.

        The Mountie blinked at the tears flooding his eyes as he stared down at the gift Barbara offered him. She gave him a shaky smile of encouragement and watched him step forward.

        Fraser allowed the earth to filter through his gloved fingers into the grave. He stared down mesmerized, at the coffin that held the body of his best friend and partner. He was tempted, for the briefest moment, to crawl in beside Ray. A firm hand at his shoulder brought him back to reality and he raised his eyes up to meet the understanding, emerald gaze of Ray Vecchio. Fraser nodded, indicating he was all right, and moved back away from the grave.

         Everyone started to move away and head to his or her cars. Many stopped to offer condolences to the Kowalski's on their way. Ma Vecchio paused beside them and gave Barbara a comforting hug as she wiped at her own tears.

         "I feel as though one of my own is gone," she confided sadly and Barbara returned the larger woman's embrace gratefully. She could see that Stanley's pretend family had not been pretend in their feelings and that pleased her. "You will come to our home, yes? I have food prepared and we will sit and talk and remember our boy?"

        Barbara had been about to accept, relieved that she didn't have to try and have the after service gathering in their small trailer, but Damien stepped forward and pulled his wife away.

         "You haven't lost one of your own," he declared angrily, pointing at Ray who stood next to his Mother. "Your boy is alive. Our son is dead and my Raymond spent the last year of his life pretending and protecting your son."

         "Hey!" Ray Vecchio defended, as his Mother became distressed. "We cared about Stanley too and I won't have you speak to my Mother that way."

         "You didn't even know him," Damien defied, then to Mrs. Vecchio. "Go and have your little party and enjoy your family Madam, we want no part of it."

         "Damien!" Barbara exclaimed aghast, as he started to pull her away toward the car.

         "Hush Barbara, I know what I'm talking about," her husband assured. Barbara she meekly followed him, glancing back at the shocked people behind them.

         Ray Vecchio opened the front door and tried not to shiver in the cold evening air.  He moved down two steps to settle beside his sullen friend. Wrapping his arms around himself to try and ward of the chill,  he sat quietly beside Fraser, watching him with concern but not speaking.

         "You should go back inside, Ray," Fraser suggested, finally. "You'll catch a cold."

         "I'm fine, Benny," Ray assured trying not to shiver and confirm the Mountie's suspicion. "Are you okay?"

         "I'm fine, Ray," Fraser returned quietly. He had yet to actually meet his friend's piercing gaze. "Thank you kindly for asking."

         "Sure thing, Benny," Ray returned. He brushed a scattering of freshly fallen snow off of Fraser's long navy dress coat. "That's what friends do, y'know, support one another." Fraser nodded but remained silent.

        Ray decided that he would wait for Fraser to speak next, giving his friend whatever time he needed to gather his thoughts. If Fraser wanted to talk he would and if he didn't, well, Ray would just sit here and wait, and hopefully not freeze to death in his dark Armani suit. He had almost wished he had worn his dress blues as the other officers had, but since he retired he had gained a little weight and could no longer fit into them.

         "Ray?" Fraser softly asked, startling the Italian

         "Y...y...yah Benny?" he could swear he saw a smile tug at the Mountie's lips, but when Fraser looked at him his face was its usual passive mask.

         "Go inside please," he requested, quietly. "You are cold."

         "N...n...naw, I'm okay," Ray lied. Great, his teeth were starting to chatter. "I...I...I'll just sit here with you, Benny."

        Fraser sighed and rose from the steps. "I'm going for a walk, Ray," he informed. "I'll return shortly, why don't you wait for me inside?"

         "I...if you're sure, Benny?" Ray replied trying not to sound too grateful at the reprieve.

        Fraser nodded and headed down the steps then moved at a slow steady pace down the street. Ray sat there for a moment longer, then screamed for Francesca. It took him four yells before the door finally opened and his sister poked her head out.

         "What is your problem?" she demanded as he held out his hand to her.

         "S...S...shut up and help me, " he ordered. "I...I think my legs are frozen together."

         Fraser wandered for quite a ways from the Vecchio's home, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Ray Kowalski. He knew he would miss Ray, he just didn't realize how very much. Fraser had lost people he cared about before, it almost seemed a kind or requiem for the lonely Mountie in the recent years, but he had started to think Kowalski would be around to stay. He'd let himself hope for a solid and long lasting friendship with the man and perhaps that was his downfall.

         He almost smiled, as Ray's own words seemed to haunt him. We're a duet, a one two punch. You set 'em up I knock em' down. Just once I'd like to say 'rack that bad boy and cover me'. Fraser felt the smile tug at his lips, as he remembered how sad Ray had looked when they were chasing Muldoon and they were camped by the fire. You ever feel lost Fraser? Fraser had made some inane comment about looking to the stars to find your direction, but he had misunderstood what his partner had been asking him.

         "I know now, Ray," he whispered staring up at the night sky that no longer held any comfort for him. He was lost, just as Ray had been, and for the first time in his life he had no answers and no sense of direction. "Life continues Ray, the Earth will keep spinning, the oxygen will continue to flow and there are still injustices out there to correct, but I no longer care about any of it." Fraser brushed away a stray tear, angry that his composure was slipping yet again. "I miss you Ray, I don't know what I should do without you here. Ray Vecchio has returned, but he's not the same, nor am I. Our friendship will always be true, but it's changed somehow because of you and I cannot regret that."
 
 

        "Fraser!" Ray cried as he watched his friend and partner's hold slip from the side of the Mountain and Fraser started to drop painfully down the rigid slope. "Oh shit!"

        They had only been looking for the hand of Franklin for three weeks, when they were cut off by another giant range of mountains. Fraser said it would be nothing to climb them, as Ray would at least be coherent this time. Ray had been doing well, but he knew Fraser was pacing himself to wait for Ray's less skilled maneuvers.

        A sharp wind had come up and somehow got Fraser turned around. The rope that bound them together for safety now pulled Ray off balance and he felt his own grip slipping. He fell just a few feet, before catching hold of a small ledge below.

        He couldn't pull himself upward, because of Fraser's additional weight tugging on him, but if he let go they would both drop forty feet to the frozen wasteland below. The wind howled around him, and Ray was sure it was trying to pull him off the ledge.

        "Not this time," he refused and found the strength to find solid place for his feet. He glanced down to see where Fraser was and tried not to allow the vertigo to affect him.

        "Ray!" Fraser called up; he too had managed to get a new grasp on the rocks. "Untie the rope and you can climb!"

        "Are you crazy!" Ray shouted back, his words forming thick ice clouds on the air around him. "You'll fall!"

        "I have a firm hold, Ray," Fraser assured. He said something else, but the wind carried the sound away and Ray didn't catch all of it. It was again something about the rope.

        "I'm not untying' the damn rope, Fraser!" he refused. "You fall we both go, so hang on because I refuse to bite it on this freakin' iceberg, ya got me!"

        "Loosen it, Ray!" Fraser called again. "Give yourself some slack to climb up, then you can retie it!"

        Ray considered that for a moment as he hugged the mountain. He held on with one hand and loosened the rope with the other. He allowed some of the slack to slip through his gloved fingers, and maintained his hold as he carefully climbed onto the ledge.

        Quickly, he secured the rope to his waist again and called for Fraser to climb. Fraser reached him moments later and they both settled on the wide ledge, out of breath, Fraser from climbing, Ray from pulling him upward. They sat there thanking whoever was responsible for their continued survival.

        Fraser turned his head sideways to look at Ray. "Well done, my friend," he offered and Ray grinned. "But, you could have been pulled off yourself and then were would you be?"

        "I'd be dead, Fraser," Ray replied, flatly, "but I'm gonna die anyway, so what's the difference?"

        Fraser frowned. "Ray, your Cancer does not give you reason to be reckless," he snapped, angrily. He didn't like being reminded that his partner was not long for this world. "You agreed to listen to me out here, that's why we came. I know this place I know the dangers and..." His voice broke. "If I had known you intended this to be a suicide mission..."

        Ray reached a hand up to squeeze Fraser's shoulder. "I never said that," he denied, gently. "I'm not out here to die, Fraser, I'm out here to live. I wanted to do this, to have one last great adventure with you. I would never do anything that would jeopardize our time together, never. It's too valuable to me buddy."

        Fraser lowered his eyes, contritely. Of course, Fraser knew that Ray wasn't intentionally trying to put himself in danger. He was just so very angry at what was happening to his friend. It was so unfair, Ray was so young and Fraser felt like they had just found each other.

        "Forgive me, Ray I...I don't know what has come over me lately."

        "I do," Ray assured. "You're angry and that's okay. Don't you think I'm angry too, Fraser? Don't you think I hate that my time is so short? It sucks, but what can I do?" He gazed out at the phenomenal view of the Northwest Territories. "I get so mad sometimes I just want to hit something or scream at how unfair it is." He glanced at Fraser again and smirked. "In fact, I think I will scream." He stood, carefully on the ledge that easily held their weight.

        Fraser jumped slightly as his partner released an angry howl that echoed for miles in every direction. Fraser could tell it came from the bottom of Ray's stomach and outward and he regarded his friend, amazed at his bravado.

        "Com'ahn, Ben," he encouraged and extended his hand out to the Mountie. "Feels good, try it."

        "Ray I don't think..." he began, self-consciously, even as he stood and Ray placed a hand at his abdomen.

        "Sure you can' dig way down, buddy. You can do it." Ray released another long cry and Fraser continued to stare at him, approvingly.

        Fraser still hadn't tried it and Ray continued to cajole him, until he gave a short, meaningless shout across the valley.

        "That was pitiful," Ray tsked. "Com'ahn, I thought you were mad, Fraser? Show me how angry a Mountie can get. Tell me; tell the people in the next village over, why you're pissed. Shout it so God can hear you."

        "I am angry, Ray," Fraser admitted and was surprised when he had started to shake. He was never good at releasing his feelings. "I hate that...I hate..."

        "What, Fraser?" Ray prodded.

        "I hate that you're dying," Fraser allowed. "I hate that you didn't tell me before now. I'm so angry that I finally found someone I could love and trust and be with, and you're being taken away from me, just like everyone else."

        Ray nodded "Say it, Fraser," he insisted. "Tell me, tell them, get mad get angry."

        "I'm angry," Fraser stated.

        "I'm angry too," Ray delivered "I'm angry that I had to get Cancer."

        "I'm angry that we don't have much time together."

        "I'm angry that Vecchio stole my wife."

        "I'm angry my father never showed me how he felt," Fraser admitted, his blood pressure was rising, but he felt a load was lifting from him.

        "I'm angry at that prick Ellery!" Ray screamed, encouragingly.

        "I'm angry my fellow officers turned their back on me!" Fraser returned forcefully.

        "I'm angry Beth Botrelle spent so many years in prison because of me."

        "I'm angry I can't show people how I feel."

        Ray stated screaming and Fraser followed suit. Their anguished cries carried for miles in every direction. After a few moments, their voices hoarse they grinned at each other.

        "I feel better," Ray decided and Fraser laughed. Ray stepped into his embrace and held onto his partner for all he was worth, making sure the Mountie would have no doubt that Ray intended to hang on for as long as he could, as long as Fraser was there beside him.
 
 

        Fraser paused and finally focused on his surroundings. He realized he had returned to the front walk of the Vecchio's home. He glanced further down the darkened street, tempted to continue his walk, but then something caused him to look up at the second story window where he noticed Francesca Vecchio staring out.

        She didn't appear to notice him, her mind perhaps as preoccupied as his own was, but she did look incredibly sad. Fraser lowered his eyes and cast another glance down the lane, seeking refuge when Ray Kowalski's voice sounded in his head once more, going back to their time in the underwater submarine.

         Fraser, once, just once will you trust me, I always trust you. Fraser had agreed, despite his better judgment, he had to learn to trust Ray's instinct, as logic did not always seem to work. Go that way.

         "That way?" Fraser repeated aloud as he had in the submarine and had been rewarded with a small smile from his partner who nodded gratefully.

        Fraser glanced up at Francesca again, who was starting to move away from the window now. Go that way Fraser. Ray's voice encouraged again. You admit that I'm right, or I'll pop you in the head. Fraser smiled and headed inside.
 
 

         Stella Kowalski dropped her purse on the kitchen table and kicked off her shoes. It had been an incredibly long day and she was bone weary. She moved to her bedroom and shrugged out of her simple black dress that she had worn to the funeral, hanging it back in the closet and sliding the door shut. She pulled her green satin robe from across the bed and pulled it on over her chilled body, moving back out into the living area of her apartment to adjust the heat to a warmer temperature. Then she padded quietly into the kitchen and pulled a TV dinner from the freezer, removing the wrapping and tossing it in the microwave to cook.

         She retrieved her briefcase from  a chair at the table and settled at the desk to sort through the files she had brought home from the office a few days before. Her workload was steadily increasing and it seemed she had very little time for herself anymore. Ray had always gotten upset when she worked herself too hard, he didn't understand that she had to work hard or she'd get lost in the shuffle. She had a responsibility to her employer and to her clients, she couldn't just drop everything whenever he wanted to go dancing at the Crystal ballroom or have a picnic by the lake.

         The microwave ringer sounded and she rose to procure her dinner, settling it at the kitchen table and selecting one of the files she needed to work through as she ate. The meal of chicken and vegetables had little taste to it, but Stella had neither the time of the patience to cook herself and she hadn't felt like take out this evening.

        Ray used to make wonderful chili when they were married. He'd be cooking it for days and other than steaks it was the only meal he was really good at. Although, he often tried to have something fixed when she came home in the evenings. Stella suspected that his Mother was the main culprit,  either preparing the dishes and bringing them over to their house for Ray to serve, or talking to her son on the telephone as she walked him through what he was trying to fix himself.

         Stella made a few notations on her note pad about the case she was reading.  When she glanced over her handwriting, a few minutes later, she noticed that she had automatically written a note to ask Ray what he might know about one of their suspects. She stared at the words as though they were written in some foreign language, then quickly shook her head at her own stupidity and started to cross out Ray's name.

        She paused, her pen not quite touching the paper as she tried to think whom else she might utilize for information. She was startled when she drew a blank. She had almost always gone to her ex-husband with her questions. Being a cop, Ray seemed to know most of what she required or he would find out for her. Stella took it for granted that he would always be around to ask.

         Slowly, she marked a line of ink through Ray's name and tossed the file aside.  She rose and dropped the remainder of her meal into the trash. Moving to the fridge, she pulled out a bottle of wine, needing something to settle her nerves. Her eyes rested on a small magnet that Ray had purchased during their honeymoon to the Caribbean. She plucked it from the door and inspected it curiously, she had forgotten she even had it.

         Suddenly, she felt her knees give beneath her and she was sliding to the cool tile of the kitchen floor, gripping the magnet in her hand as she realized for the very first time that Ray was really and truly gone. She had been in some kind of limbo the past few days, as though standing outside looking in and that none of this was really happening to her.

        Ray was gone, her beloved husband was dead and she would no longer see his shining eyes and smiling face. Stella wrapped her arms around her trembling body and sobbed openly at her loss, wishing for all the world that she could have another chance too make things up to the man that was still so much a part of her.

         Lieutenant Harding Welsh watched the liquid in the small crystal tumbler swirl around the glass, from the deliberate movements of his wrist, and stared out the patio window of his apartment. He had poured the drink almost the moment he had gotten through the door that evening, after returning from the Vecchio's home where many had gathered to eat and remember the remarkable Detective they had just lost. Technically, of course, Stanley Raymond Kowalski was no longer a police officer, he had given up his commission when he stayed with Fraser in Canada to go on that ridiculous trek across the arctic wilderness.

        Welsh had initially thought his former charge had lost his mind in all that snow and freezing temperatures, but less than two weeks later, Harding received Ray's written resignation on his desk; post marked Tuktoyaktuk, Canada. He had been stunned that Kowalski was giving up his career, but the more that he thought about it the more sense it made to him.

        Fraser and Kowalski had been more than just friends and partners, there was a bond between the two men that could not be explained and the fact that they decided to stay together and continue a different type of adventure was, in a way, expected.

         Welsh had been unprepared for the effect that Kowalski had on him, while working under his command. He had agreed that the blond was a good choice to cover as the real Ray Vecchio. He had read Kowalski's file and heard a lot about him from others in the neighboring departments. The fact that he looked nothing like the Italian he would be portraying was of little consequence, Kowalski was an excellent undercover officer and he would be fine for the assignment. However, the more Welsh watched the man work them fonder he became of the erratically volatile and often  temperamental blond.

         Welsh swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat for the umpteenth time that day as he thought about Kowalski. Welsh owed the extraordinary man much more than he would ever repay. Kowalski had gotten Harding and his department out of a jam when he convinced Brandaur and his IA muck mucks that the snitch trying to finger Ray Vecchio for stealing nine kilos of seized cocaine was bogus. It had saved Welsh's career. Ray's idea to have the man, who was charging him, pick him out of a line up had been a stroke of genius on Kowalski's part.  Even if the snitch had known the real Ray Vecchio, he could never finger the tall, polish cop in the lineup for the  Italian Detective.

         When Fraser and Kowalski helped his brother solve a case in Harding's hometown the Lieutenant had been very grateful to them both as well. Kowalski also seemed to share Welsh's animosity for the suits that often made their jobs difficult.

        In all fairness, Welsh had come to think of Ray Kowalski as a son and loyal comrade. If ever Welsh wanted someone to watch his back it would be Kowalski and he had been almost disappointed when the real Ray Vecchio finally returned.

         "Here's to you, Detective," he saluted lifting his glass toward the city below "May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun, shine warm upon your face and rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of His hand."

         Harding Welsh downed the whisky on his final word; wiped the single tear he had shed from his eye and turned his back on the city that offered both such beauty and such atrocity, to pour another drink.
 
 

         Francesca Vecchio moved away from the window, allowing the thin material of the curtain to fall gently back into place. She walked across her bedroom and curled up on her bed with her multitude of stuffed animals.  Tucking a bright, pink teddy bear under her chin, she lay back on her pillows,  and remembered the day Raymond Kowalski had brought the toy into the station for her.

        It had been Valentine's day and she had not received a single valentine or gift from anyone and so when the man pretending to be her brother walked in with this enormous animal strapped to his back she had stared at him in shock.

         Ray had acted like he normally did, pausing by her desk to chat with Fraser, ignoring the stares other people were giving him as he and the Mountie voiced the aspects of their latest case. Francesca had tried to get his attention three times, before he finally turned to her.

         "What is it Frannie?" he asked impatiently, as the pretty Civilian aide pointed to the toy on his back.

         "What in the world is that?" she demanded and Ray turned around and glanced at the man behind him.

        He smirked at Francesca. "That's Fraser, the Mountie. Remember, my partner, comes from Canada, likes to chase cars and lick electrical sockets?"

        Fraser blushed slightly but declined to comment as Francesca glared back at Ray.

          "I meant what's that on yer back, moron," she retorted, saucily.

         "There's nothing on my back," Ray protested. "Except maybe Welsh..."

         "There is so!" she declared trying not to smile. "There's a bear on yer back."

        "Yeah, like I said, Welsh..." he continued and she glared at him and pointed again to the animal. Ray reached behind him puzzled, jumping slightly as his hand made contact with the plush toy attached to his back.

         "What in the world!" he exclaimed and he glanced at Fraser, who was returning his gaze blankly. "Fraser, yer supposed to be watchin' my back, why didn't you tell me there was a bear there?"

         "You didn't ask, Ray," Fraser returned, calmly.

        Francesca realized they were both playing with her.

         "Well, why didn't you tell him to get off?" Ray continued.

         "That would be rude, Ray," Fraser commented straight-faced. "We have not even been properly introduced. Furthermore, if the bear wished to get off your back I imagine he would have done so by now."

         "Well introduce yerself and get him off my back!" Ray exclaimed and Francesca watched the Mountie lean toward the bear and politely make the introductions, as though he were speaking to a real person, then move closer to allow the toy to return his conversation.

         "He says he would be happy to get off of your back, Ray," Fraser informed. "But, he's quite cold and he asks that you put him somewhere warm if you prefer not to keep him with you."

         "What do I look like, the electric company?" Ray retorted and Fraser offered him a scolding stare, which caused the detective to sigh in defeat.  "Okay, okay, tell 'em I'll find him another warm spot if he'll just get off, he's ruinin' my rep."

        Fraser leaned in toward the toy again. "He agrees, Ray," he replied detaching the bear from his partner's back and placing him in Ray's hands. "Here you are."

        "Here, Frannie," Ray remarked holding the bear out to her. "Yer usually nice and warm, keep him outta trouble fer us, will ya?"

        Francesca pulled the bear to her chest in shy surprise as the two men wandered off toward Ray's desk. She glanced down at the bear to get a better look at the large heart-shaped belly that read Be Mine and giggled happily at their thoughtfulness. When she glanced over at Ray, who was still in depth conversation, he caught her gaze and winked at her.

         A knock at her door pulled Francesca back to the present and she sat up, calling to whomever the caller was to come in. She was shocked when the door opened and Fraser stood on the other side.

         "Francesca," he greeted, quietly. "May I speak with you?"

        Francesca had been heartbroken when the Mountie had not immediately returned from Canada, but she also understood his need to be home. It was where he belonged, as she had tried to explain to Thatcher that day at the precinct many months ago.

         "Sure, Fraser," she agreed, trying to appear calm before him. "Com'on in."

        Fraser shifted his weight a few times on his long legs and lowered his eyes for a moment.  "I...I thought perhaps we could speak somewhere less...ummm..."

         "Intimidating?" Francesca offered, hiding her smile at the thought that the Mountie was too shy to enter her bedroom.

         "Less likely for someone to doubt my intentions are honorable, Francesca," he corrected, quietly.

        Francesca bit her lip to keep from smiling, but didn't quite manage it.
"Sure, Frase." She set the bear aside and slid off the bed, walking over to the door to smile up at him. "Let's go to Ray's study, he hardly ever goes in there, just a tradition to have one in the house."

         "That would be fine, Francesca," Fraser agreed and stepped aside to allow her to exit the room.

        They headed downstairs and entered the small room that was on the other side of the large kitchen, toward the back of the house. Francesca closed the doors and moved over to settle on the small sofa by the wall, while Fraser remained standing. He seemed nervous, but then when wasn't he in her presence?

         "What did you want to talk about, Fraser?" she inquired tucking her bare feet up under the demure black dress she still wore from earlier in the day.

         "I...I wish to...er....I...that is to say..." Fraser almost sighed in frustration, but his strict discipline prevented it and Francesca waited patiently.

        She understood the Mountie had trouble talking to her. She would let him do it in his own way and give him as much time as he required to get past his shyness. Hiding a smile behind her hand, she remembered him trying to talk to her outside her brother's door at the hospital and how Kowalski had come to his rescue and said what Fraser couldn't, She wished the blond was here now and would help Fraser once more.

         "What is it, Benton?" she encouraged, gently. "You know you can tell me anything."

        Fraser did know this, he had been aware of Francesca's surprising understanding of him from the beginning, despite her forwardness. He knew that she would not laugh at him or judge him for not saying something just right.

         "Francesca, I...I was wondering," he bit his lip. "D...do you remember what...um...what we spoke of...er...ah...at the hospital before Ray and I left for Canada?"

         "You said you liked me," she confirmed then smirked. "Or rather, Ray said you liked me."

        Fraser blushed and shifted his weight a few more times, as he nervously thumbed his right brow. "Er...yes well...ah...he was of course...t...telling the truth."

         "I know that, Benton," she acknowledged, quietly. "Is that what you wanted to say? You wanted to assure me that you still liked me?"

         "I...in a way yes, I...er...oh dear. " Fraser turned away for a moment to try and gather his thoughts, moving to the far window to stare out at the evening sky. "I...I am afraid I am not very good at this, Francesca."

         "Take yer time, Benton," she suggested gently. "I'm in no hurry." The fact that he was willing to be alone with her at all was astonishing, so she would not rush it.

         "I...Francesca?" Fraser turned back toward her, and surprised her by moving over and settling next to her on the sofa, not close enough to invade her personal space, but not to far that she couldn't reach out to touch him if she wanted to. "I...I was wondering...I know that I...well, that I have not always been...ah...direct or forthcoming with you about...er...a...about my..." Fraser cleared his throat and pulled at his collar. "M... m...my feelings and that this has at times been a source of aggravation with you."

         "You've ticked me off a few times," she admitted, smiling to remove the sting from her words. "But, I know it's hard for you to talk about...those kinda things."

         "Yes," Fraser nodded, curtly. "It....it is very...extremely difficult for me but I...Francesca I was hoping...ah...I know that you may already be...um...spoken for or otherwise engaged but I...ah..." Fraser pulled off his jacket suddenly and unfastened the top three buttons of his tunic, my it was warm in here!

         "Benton, are you asking me out?" Francesca inquired, stunned. She watched the Mountie blush an even deeper red, so that he almost matched his tunic.

         "I...I....I...ah...yes I believe...that is I...I would like...er...to ah...request permission to court you, Francesca," he finally managed and Francesca had to force down the urge to throw herself at him or hop up and start doing cartwheels around the small room. "I...I am not returning to Canada, until a later date and I...well, if...if things um...that is I cannot expect you to just...forgo your life here and your family but...ummm, if things b...benefit us both and the...um.... relationship proves satisfactory I...ah...was wondering if...er...if you might...possibly...um...go home with me."

         He was talking possible marriage! He had to be! The Mountie wanted to court and possibly marry her and take her back to Canada! Francesca was speechless, she could only stare at him in shock, her mouth gaping like a fish and trying not to shake. Fraser mistook her reaction for a refusal and immediately offered her a way out.

         "I...I perfectly understand if you decline my offer I..." he didn't get the chance to finish as he suddenly found his arms full of her soft, warm body and hot moist lips pressed against his. At first he was too stunned to react, but then he found himself kissing her back, almost smiling in relief.

         "Yes!" she exclaimed when they finally came up for air. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she cried out.

        Fraser pushed her away slightly, trying to regain his composure and put a respectable distance between them in case someone should enter the room. "Excellent we... Um...Now we just have to speak with Ray."

         "Why?" she demanded, "what does my brother have to do with the price of tea in Georgia?"

         "I...well I am unsure of a connection between Ray and..." Fraser began confused.

Francesca shook her head. "No, I mean it isn't his business whether or not we..."

         "You are his sister, Francesca," Fraser reminded, firmly. "He is my friend and the head of your family, we would be remiss in not asking for his blessing."

        Francesca knew her brother and she remembered the conversation she and Ray had at the precinct that day when he though she and the Mountie had slept together.

         "What if he doesn't give his blessing?" she whispered, afraid that her dream was about to shatter. Fraser was quiet for a long time, perhaps considering alternatives. Ray Kowalski's voice came back to him once more.
 

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

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

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

         "Ray, you are not really Ray Vecchio."

         "Still think you should go fer it, though," Ray insisted, quietly. "Life's too short not to try for somethin' ya want."

        Finally, Fraser nodded as though coming to a decision.

         "If your brother does not approve, then...." Fraser took a deep breath and continued. "He will simply have to deal with it."

        Francesca stared at him, shocked and over- joyed at the same time, then leapt up from the sofa and held out her hand.

         "Then let's go tell him to deal, Benton," she concluded. Fraser put his hand in hers and rose to the challenge.

         Damien Kowalski sipped his beer and stared at the television screen, not really seeing the show that was on, just needing something to stare at. His mind was filled of past Christmases, little league games and nightly homework. He watched a young Raymond run through the field in their back yard, wielding a tree branch for his mighty sword as he slayed the foes that his incredibly active imagination dreamed up for him. Saw his son try and try to be a good ball player on his school team and never quite making the grade and the way the other kids tormented and teased him.

         He replayed the night of the terrible accident that took Raymond's sister and best friend away from them. They had been returning from the local theater, Raymond's older brother Shawn had been driving, while Damien sat in the passenger seat, napping.

        They had just taken the younger kids to see a movie and on the way home it had started to storm. Shawn couldn't see the road well and it was becoming slippery with moisture. He didn't see the drunk driver that was swerving to the wrong side of the road until it was too late.

         The car had rolled three times before landing face down in gully that was already filling with gushing water from the rain. Damien and Shawn had somehow been thrown free from the car, having not worn their seat belts, but Raymond, Simone and Barry Mitchell were trapped in the back seat. Simone had thrown herself across her twin brother instinctually and the buckling metal of the car had crushed her young ten-year-old body, instantly.  Raymond was pinned between her and the floorboards, leaving him only a tiny window with which to view the unconscious boy across from him.

         Damien could still hear his son screaming as he and Shawn worked to get them out, despite their injuries. Barry had awakened and was crying pinned on the lower side of the vehicle where the water was rising faster and Raymond screamed his name over and over as he was forced to watch his best friend drown in front of him. Shawn's hands were bleeding with the effort of trying to get to his little brother, screaming at him to keep talking and stay awake. Luckily, someone had witnessed the accident and called 911.Tthe paramedics and rescue vehicle finally arrived minutes later.

         They had to use the jaws of life to get Raymond out and Damien was sure that he would never forget the horrible sound of crunching metal as they tore away the portions of the car that had trapped the three children in it's terrifying grip.

        When Damien saw Simone, his sweet baby girl mangled and covered with blood he cried out in anguish. The paramedics had to work to pry the girl's body from her brother's. Raymond had gone into shock and was no longer screaming or trying to move. He was staring off into space; his mind had simply shut down, unable to deal with the horror around him.

         They had taken Raymond directly to the hospital, where he was treated for a crushed knee, a broken arm, a skull fracture, three broken ribs, a punctured lung and massive internal bleeding. The doctors did not offer a promising diagnosis and the Kowalski family were forced to wait three dreadfully long days before their son would be stable enough for surgery.

        It was three more weeks before Raymond was off the critical list. Over four months before he would be released from the hospital and allowed to continue his recovery at home. Raymond had developed a great fear of hospitals and doctors after that, but who could blame him?

         Shawn had left as soon as he was old enough for college; the relationship between he and his parents had become strained. Shawn was convinced that they blamed him for Simone's death since she had been the one to die and he had been the one driving. In all honesty, Damien could admit that he did put some of the blame on his oldest son.

        Simone had been the light of Damien's life and he had taken her death hard. However, he had to admit to a certain amount of fault himself. He had gone into the lounge, while the kids attended the movie at the mall, and enjoyed a number of drinks before leaving. Shawn was adamant about driving since his father, while not totally intoxicated, had been drinking.

         Barbara partially blamed both of them for a time, but she soon forgot her anger and threw her devotion into the child that had survived, much to her husband's disapproval. Damien did not want Raymond to grow up a 'mama's boy' and Barbara was encouraging  to many of the young boy's fanciful dreams, including Raymond's infatuation with a young blond headed girl in their neighborhood.

        However, whenever his wife encouraged Damien to take an interest in Raymond's life, Damien refused. Barbara wanted her husband to learn what sort of things the Raymond liked to do, or to attend the ball games or dance recitals she took their son to. Damien wanted to be a part of Raymond's life, but he couldn't.

         Every time he looked at his son he saw Simone. Their matching hair and eyes, even both wearing glasses with the same familiar frames. It was too painful for Damien to tolerate. He could not spend any great amount of time with his boy, other than to work on the GTO. They never went fishing anymore, they never played ball in the back yard or went to a hockey game. Raymond was alive and Simone was dead and Damien could not seem to get past it.

         So, instead Damien worked hard every day and took as much overtime as he could to build up a college fund for Raymond, so his boy could go on and be something wonderful like Shawn had done. He tried to make up his lack of attention by looking toward Raymond's future. He tried not to see the wounded looks his son gave him whenever Damien cast him aside because he was busy or  when Damien forgot to show for something important.

       Damien hoped Raymond would get over these things, after all his son needed to learn how to deal with hardships like a man. His tender heart would get trampled if he didn't learn to bury his feelings and deal with things properly, as Damien and Shawn had done. Raymond was weak and Damien had tried to make him into a man, yet Raymond continued to disappoint him. If only he had told them he was ill, Damien would have made an effort to get to know his son again, but Raymond had shut him out, as he always did and now neither of them would get satisfaction.
 
 
 

         Barbara Kowalski stared at her husband's wistful expression from the doorway of their tiny trailer kitchen. He was hurting and as always trying to bury it deep inside himself. She worried that he would not handle Stanley's death well and it seemed she had been right. Shawn had not shown up for the funeral, something Barbara might never forgive him for. To not come to his own brother's funeral was seriously remiss in love and family loyalty. She understood that Shawn and Stanley never seemed to get along as well after Simone's death, but  that was no excuse.  There was almost six years difference between her two boys and Stanley had always preferred to spend his time with his twin.

         Of course, he worshipped his older brother, wanted to be just like him, but Shawn rarely had time for his much younger siblings. The usual arguments of an older boy not wanting to drag his younger brother around with him were constant in the house for awhile. Barbara wondered if perhaps her remaining son had felt guilty for neglecting Stanley all those years.

        Stanley had been lost without his sister, he hadn't known where to turn or even who he was anymore; it was as though part of him had died. When he started to hang around a young girl named Stella, he seemed to get some purpose back. Barbara suspected her son was trying to replace his sister with such urgency and desperation that it eventually turned into a devoted passion for the woman he would one day marry.

         After the accident, people kept trying to tell her that Stanley wasn't quite right. He was retarded, he was slow, and things didn't make much sense to him. The neighbor hood children repeatedly teased Stanley about being damaged. All of his teachers wanted him moved to a special education class, but Barbara wouldn't hear of it. Stanley would not have survived such a blow to his self-esteem so soon after his sister's death.

        After all, what did they expect of her son, who watched his sister and best friend die before his  young eyes? Stanley had lost what little relationship he had developed with his older brother and his father was completely shutting him out. He had to learn how to cope with his limitations by studying twice as hard, reading books on how to improve his memory and of course gaining a reputation as a fighter.

         Stanley was a very physical person and whenever he became frustrated or upset he would lash out. Rarely  did he attack anyone around him; it was  mostly inanimate objects; walls, windows, cars, whatever he could find. This behavior usually ended up in hurting only himself. Barbara was the only one who could calm him, no one else dared even approach him when he was in that state, but her.

        Barbara had noticed that Fraser had that same calming effect on her son and she had been grateful for it, even though she understood that the majority of the time the Mountie was the actual source of Stanley's aggravation. Her son had become a more relaxed individual around his new partner. Perhaps, working with Fraser allowed Stanley to work off some of that incredible energy that usually left him bouncing off the walls in need of a release. Or it could just be that Stanley finally found someone to accept him, just as he was, and that gave him the ability to cast more of his usual worries and complaints away.

         Stanley had worked hard to prove himself worthy in both his father's and brother's eyes, but it seemed nothing was ever good enough for them. His constant pursuit of their approval led him to be that just as needy and praise hungry with almost everyone he met.  His search for respect and affection sometimes tended to do the opposite, pushing people away instead of bringing them closer, as it had with Stella. Stanley never considered himself deserving and therefore his low self-esteem played out in front of others.

         Barbara sighed and glanced back at her husband, who had started on his forth beer. She had not seen him drink so much since before they lost their daughter and she wondered how they would both cope with the recent loss of their son. Damien Kowalski held his feelings deep down inside and she was simply waiting for the explosion, she knew was coming, to arrive.
 
 

         Stella pulled herself up off the floor and with trembling hands rummaged through her purse for the letter that Benton Fraser had handed her the day he and Ray Vecchio came to tell her the news of her ex-husband's death. He had informed her that Ray's last wish was that she wait until New Years  Day to open it, but she was in a terrible state just now and desperate to read Ray's last words to her.

        Feelings of sorrow and guilt, over the way she had treated him in recent years, had been driven to the surface during her cry and she had to know if Ray had forgiven her before he died.  She gasped when she read the first sentence of the letter in Ray's neat script.

         I knew you couldn't wait Stell.

         Her hand flew to her mouth as she struggled over whether to laugh of cry.  He had always known her so damn well that it often scared her while they were married. Wiping her eyes she settled in her favorite chair and unfolded the letter further to continue.

         That is okay though, I don't mind you reading this early because it will hopefully help you deal with whatever you might be going through. I've never been good at writing letters, Stell, except love notes to you of course, so I hope this turns out okay. This will be pretty easy for me, much more than the other letters I have to write, because you already know how I feel about you, sweetheart. I've never made my feelings for you a secret and maybe that was part of the problem. I never thought you might think I was suffocating you or holding you back Stella, I hope you realize that, I only wanted to love you as much as I was able.

        But, over the past few months I have had a lot of time to think about things and I now know that the divorce had to happen. It was what we both needed, regardless of how much it hurt. I don't blame you, sweetheart, and I certainly don't hold a grudge against you for doing what you had to do. I do love you, I will always love you and I know that you will always love me. Don't be sad for me, baby, I've had a pretty good life when I stop to think about it and in a way I am glad I was the first to go. I would never have survived you dying first Stella, but you know that too. We couldn't grow old together but you will always be my wife, no matter what else happens.

        Please do me one final favor and find someone who will love you, as you deserve to be loved.  If Ray Vecchio makes you happy ( as much as I can't stand the guy haha) then stay with him. But, if he doesn't please find someone who does, you deserve that much. Be happy Stella and don't let your career be all there is in your life. You would make such a wonderful Mother, when the time comes, and you already know that you are a perfect wife. I love you for all eternity sweetheart, don't be sad. I'll always be with you and I want you to be happy. Remember I will be watching. I couldn't leave if I thought I couldn't see my Stell once in awhile. Take care my love and I will see you again soon.

Yours forever,
Ray

         Stella sniffed and wiped at the steady stream of tears that chorused down over her cheeks, as she clutched the letter to her chest. Oh God how she missed him already and how wonderful he had always been to her. She honestly didn't know if she could survive this, especially now when she knew he had forgiven her for having hurt him so badly.

         She moved slowly from the chair and shuffled into her room. She gently lay the treasured letter on her bed and opened her closet door to retrieve a small, shoe-box from the higher shelf over her clothing. She returned to the bed and sat cross-legged on the mattress as she began pulling pictures and momentos from the box. There were photos of her and Ray, programs and saved theater tickets to the different places they had gone to, a few crushed flowers that she had saved from their first anniversary and other cherished trinkets.

         She removed a small shell chain that Ray had made her during a trip to the beach when they were sixteen. She had worn it every where, not caring if it was a little crooked and some of the shells were not all the same perfect size. She had worn it because Ray had made it for her and at that time she was so much in love with him that she would have worn seaweed had he fetched it for her. Carefully, she pulled it over her head and allowed the heavy charm to fall between her breasts, it fit as though it was meant to be there.

         She hadn't known when she had stopped seeing things through rose colored glasses regarding her husband. It was a gradual thing that went on over time. He worked long hours on the force and seemed to loose some of his optimistic outlook on life, after just a few years. That was to be expected of course, after all life, as a cop was not easy.

        Seeing the types of horror and degradation that was found on the streets of Chicago would chip away at anyone's good humored armor, but it was Ray not telling her what he was feeling that finally got to her. He always tried to appear happy and humorous around her, regardless of what sort of day he had. Stella would see the desperation in his eyes and sense his sadness or fury over the death of a child or the release of a suspect he had worked hard to collar. She always found out about his cases from some one else and that bothered her.

         Ray claimed he didn't want to bring her down with the kind of things he had to deal with everyday. He wanted to leave all the bad stuff at the station and just come home and be with her, but Stella felt left out and she grew resentful over his constant silence. Ray was a damn good cop and she knew he would never stop doing what he loved to do. Regardless of the things he was forced to go through everyday,  Ray never indicated he wanted to be anything but a cop, despite Stella trying everything  she could think of to get him to quit. In all honesty, she was selfish when it came to her own career and she was tired of Ray not being home when she got off work, like when he worked a grueling on a case or pulled all night surveillance.

         His line of work was dangerous and she worried that one-day he might not come home at all. Ray had reasoned that her work was just as dangerous, she dealt with criminals every day, just as he did. Stella protested this saying she did not wear a gun or chase them or put her own life in danger to apprehend them. She wasn't a direct barrier against a criminal hurting someone else

        When Ray received another citation for bravery, his third during their marriage, she had had enough. She couldn't be proud of him, all she could see was that he had put himself in harms way yet again and she couldn't deal with it. She asked for a divorce. Stella watched the light that had first attracted her to him, and that had been slowly dimming over the years due to his job, completely vanish like a flame in the wind. If she were honest with herself she would eventually admit that it was not the job that had destroyed Ray's love of life, but her leaving him.

         Now, he was gone and there would be no second chances. Yet, somehow Ray had understood enough that he had written her a letter that said all the things she had needed most to hear. Even in death, he was a comfort to her and she hoped that they would see each other again soon. She lay back on her pillows, one hand resting on the shells of her necklace and the other on a photo of them at the beach. Finally, she reached for her telephone and dialed the Vecchio home, hoping Ray would be there. It was time to stop putting him off and set a wedding date.
 
 

        Barbara glanced up as the clock struck twelve and she could hear the distant sounds of Dick Clark's celebration on the television in the living room. She never thought this day would come. She could hardly believe it was almost two weeks, since Stanley had died, and she had been anxious to open the letter that Fraser gave them.

        Fraser of course told her of the stipulation and she had been devastated that she could not read the last words her son had offered her until New Years day, but she had managed to hold on. In a way, she could see her son's wisdom in making her wait. Had she read it so soon after he died she may not have been able to contain her grief and would not have been clear headed enough to understand the words.

         She walked past her solemn husband, still seated in the recliner with a beer in his hand and quietly closed the door to their bedroom as she entered. She pulled the letter from her coat pocket that hung behind the door and settled on the bed. She truly did not care if her husband ever wanted to read Stanley's letter, but she would. She pulled her glasses up from their perch at her neck. They were tied with a string Stanley had given her, years ago, to help her keep track of them. She propped them on her nose. It seemed her son had developed the same bad habit of misplacing his eyeglasses as Barbara always had done. With a shaky, but determined, breath she pulled the paper out of the sealed envelope and began to read.

     Dear Mum and Dad,

          Well, I guess the time came and you both are feeling pretty bad about now. I am sorry that I didn't tell you sooner about my illness, but I didn't want to make you suffer any more than you had to. You are both protective of me and I try to make things easier for you. Fraser says you are both adults and that I shouldn't assume you can't handle difficult news, but I guess old habits die hard, I just didn't know how to tell you.

         Mum, you were the greatest Mum a guy could ask for; you were always there for me and let me be whomever I wanted. I know how much family means to you, so I am sorry Stell and I divorced and never gave you any grand kids. I could have remarried, I know, but you always seemed to understand how I felt about Stell. You knew I couldn't do that, but I am sorry just the same. I just never found anyone who made me feel the way Stell did. I know I got on you about doing my laundry and treating me like a kid sometimes, but I was okay with it really and I didn't mean to nag you. I love you so much; I couldn't imagine what I would do if I thought I had hurt you in any way. You made me feel loved and treasured and I can never thank you enough for having me as your son.

         Well, Dad, we never seemed to click, but I understood why so it was okay. You are still my father and I love you, nothing you could do would ever change that. Don't be mad at Fraser, or blame anyone for my death, it just happens sometimes. Fraser is my best friend and he saved my neck more times than I could count, so you should be on your knees thanking him for keeping me in one piece. (Haha)

        Seriously though, I know you never forgave me for being the twin that lived, but that was okay because I forgave you a long time ago. I know you didn't want me to be a cop, but it is what I am, my calling so to speak, and many think I was pretty damn good at it. Don't live in the past anymore Dad, live for the future, because you never know when those things you take for granted will be taken away from you. Take care of Mum, tell her you love her every day and bring her flowers once a week so she remembers that she loves you. You're a hard guy to live with at times, but she's stuck it out, so that must mean something right?

         To both of you, don't be mad at Shawn for not coming to my funeral, I asked him not to. I called him the other day and we talked for hours got a lot of things resolved and I feel pretty good about it. He is having a hard time with his own family now and he didn't take the news of my illness real well, so I told him to stay home and take care of his wife and kids. So, be cool with him okay, he was keeping a promise to me. Dad, I know you love the GTO, and so do I, but more than the car I loved the time working on it with you. Please send it to Shawn, he always loved that car too and I think he was jealous of the time we spent on it. You should go up and visit him, you and Mum both; there is still a lot of work to be done on the car. (hint hint) I think it might help heal the differences between you guys too and that is also important. Gee, who would have thought dying would make me smarter? Figures it would take something that drastic, haha, I was always the last to have a clue, wasn't I Mum?

         Well, it's late and I'm pretty tired. Fraser and me should make the mainland tomorrow and then we'll be in Chicago, plus my fingers are starting to go numb from the cold while trying to write. Be good to each other and always remember that your sons love you, both of us. I'm kind of excited about going, Mum. I'm hoping I'll get to see Simone, it's been too long and I have missed her.

Love,
Your son
Stanley Raymond

         Barbara Kowalski wiped at her eyes and slowly refolded the letter as she rose from the bed.  Her son had always signed both his names to any correspondence he sent them, because of her and Damien's continuing war over what to call him. It was his way of including them both, even though she knew Stanley preferred to be called Ray by his friends.

        She moved out to the living room and switched off the TV. Pulling the beer from her husband's hand, she settled on his lap and gave him a tender kiss. He returned it, surprised.  Barbara then presented him with the letter their son had written to them.  Damien refused to read it, so she began to read it to him and he was forced to listen.

        Afterwards, she held her sobbing husband in her arms and rocked him gently back and forth as she used to do with Stanley when he was a child. The time for healing had begun.
 
 

         Fraser removed himself from the Vecchio's New Years celebration and wandered out to the back porch. The sky was clear, but the temperatures still caused his breath to form frosty clouds upon the air, and there was a full moon to read by. It was a few minutes to midnight, but he did not think Ray would mind his premature opening of the letter. He settled on the sturdy wooden swing that hung from a large tree in the back yard and pulled the letter from his pocket. Diefenbaker settled beside him knowing his pack-mate sensing the importance of the event.

     Hi Fraser,

         Well, this is about the tenth time I have started one of these stupid thing, lets see if I can get all the way through this one. You're sleeping right now, by the campfire and Dief is curled up at your feet. The wind is howling outside our little shelter and the air is freezing, but I am warm and safe because you are here. It's not hard to say how I feel about you, not really, it's just getting it to where you actually understand what I am trying to say that is the problem. I've never been elo...eleeq...

        Fraser smiled at the next two words that were scratched out and began to read further.

         ...good at what I mean to say. When I took the assignment to be a cover for Vecchio, they told me about you and I didn't really have any problems with the idea of being partnered with a Mountie.  Then, when we met at the station the first time and I hugged you I felt like I had come home.

        Fraser felt a sudden warmth engulf his heart and hot tears sprung beneath his lowered eyelids. He had felt the same way, but could never bring himself to explain that feeling to Ray. He felt it was, in some way, a betrayal to Ray Vecchio, his first partner. Now, Ray had admitted to experiencing the same thing Fraser had and the Mountie regretted not being more open with Ray Kowalski, when he had the chance. He wiped at his eyes and continued reading.

        I know that sounds corny. It was like I had known you all of my life and in that split instant I felt great!  I also felt desperately sad, because I knew that you were Vecchio's friend and that I was just playing a part. I can't begin to tell you how much your friendship has meant to be, Benton, how much I've treasured having you in my life, even for a little while. Ray Vecchio is a lucky SOB, I said it from the first day but I also know that we are friends too and, so I don't feel badly about it anymore. I am no longer jealous of the guy I was pretending to be.

         Take good care of Frannie, she's a great person and I really wish she had been my real sister. I don't know if I ever told you this, but I had a twin sister once. She died when I was ten. Frannie reminded me a lot of Simone and that's probably why I always got so aggravated with her. She could push my buttons way to easy, just like my twin used to. I hope you do what I said and take a chance on her, Fraser, you and she were meant to be together, I know this. Trust me, my instincts never fail. (haha) Let your heart out Fraser; show others what they are missing of you, and what they have been longing for. You showed your heart to me, Benton, you put it all out there and I was so grateful for it. Let others grow in the warmth of your giving and kindness, don't be afraid anymore, Buddy.

          Okay I'm getting maudlin now; this thing in my head is making me way too serious and mushy. Anyway, I wanted to thank you Benton Fraser for being the best friend, the best partner, the best confidant and the best supporter another human being could ever wish for. You were always there for me, even when I didn't want you to be. When I was afraid to admit that I needed you, you stuck it out. You are a freak and I love you for it.

        One thing that I learned being with you, Fraser, is that life is a truly wonderful adventure. You don't really need to find the Holy Grail to enjoy the magic it represents. The journey is just as important and can be made in your own back yard, if you let it. So, think of me whenever you see an incredible sunset, like the one we watched together on the Henry Allen. Think of your buddy Ray and remember pirates and gold and adventures so wonderful that even the Angels are envious of the times we shared. Find the Hand of Franklin and lay beside it, Fraser.. I'll be there waiting for you in your dreams.

         I won't say good bye, because I will never truly be apart from you. Instead, I will say see you soon and until we meet again my friend. There are red ships and green ships, but no better ships than partnerships.

You're friend, forever and always,
Ray

         Fraser folded the letter shakily and returned it to his inside pocket. A gentle hand touched his shoulder as he whispering a quiet prayer of thanks to his fallen friend. He glanced up into the shining eyes of Francesca Vecchio and he offered her a small smile.

         "It's midnight, Benton," she said, settling beside him. She was pleased when he required no further prompting and their lips met in a sweet tentative kiss.  She looped her arms through one of his to snuggle closer as they both gazed up at the stars of the New Year. "Are you okay?"

         "I am good, Francesca," he assured, using his partner's favorite reply, and gently linking his fingers through hers.

        Ray Vecchio had been surprisingly accepting of the idea of Fraser dating his baby sister. Ma almost crushed him in the strongest bear hug he had ever encountered and Maria had cried in relief and joy, singing it was about time.  Francesca pulled out her own letter, which Fraser noticed was also opened.

         "I...I couldn't wait," she admitted. "I opened it a few minutes ago."

        Fraser nodded, it seemed they had both rushed the New Year, but he was sure Ray would understand.

        "It....it was very sweet, he told me how much he liked me and that he used to have a twin that I reminded him of." Francesca shook his head. "I...I never even bothered to really get to know him, Frase, not like you and Harding did and I feel...I feel like I missed out on something really important."

         "Ray was a special person, Francesca," Fraser agreed. "I know that he thought very highly of you. It was simply not appropriate at the time for you both to be any closer than what you were. He felt awkward for replacing your brother in your life and perhaps, you felt uncomfortable with him at times as well."

        Francesca nodded sadly.  "I...I shouldn't have treated him so rotten, Benton," she confided, guiltily. "Especially now, that I know how much he liked me."

         Fraser shook his head. "Ray understood your reaction to him at times, Francesca, he did not fault you for it." He lifted her chin so she would look at him. "Ray loved you just as he loved me, don't betray his affection by feeling guilty for what could not be helped."

        Francesca sniffed and nodded. She cuddled closer to the Mountie as he wrapped his arm around her.

         It was amazing how, once Fraser had managed to finally convey his feelings to the pretty brunette beside him,  easily it was to accept her affection and reciprocate.  Ray Kowalski had been correct. They did seem to fit well together and, as his friend stated in his letter regarding their first meeting at the precinct, Fraser had the incredible feeling that he had found a home in Francesca's arms.

        Perhaps he would stay in Chicago, or he may return to Canada yet. Whatever he decided, he would make it work because Francesca had given him the chance to change his destiny and a kind hearted blond Chicago flatfoot with experimental hair had given him the courage. It was indeed greatness.

The end.

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