Angelorum Chori

Fraser solemnly observed Ray's tense figure standing a few paces ahead of him. A small continuous drizzle made everything glisten as if coated with some kind of oily residue. The ground beneath his feet gradually became soggier, the mud clinging to his boots. Diefenbaker trotted over to Ray and-whimpering- licked the cop's fingers. Kowalski didn't budge but kept watching the ME’s as they zipped the tiny body in the black plastic bag. The child's corpse was hardly noticeable in the body bag, so young the boy had been. Fraser guessed him around six, although it had been pretty hard to tell. They would know soon enough when Missing Persons put up a name to go with the face.

The coroner finally drove away and the people from Forensics packed up their stuff. The rain would’ve erased most traces, if there had been any to begin with. None had been found on any of the other crime-scenes and a muddy, filth-ridden vacant lot was about the worst place to find, well...anything.
" Why don't ya go an' have a look around, Fraser."
Ray's voice was deep and rough, seemingly brimming with tears but when Fraser glanced at his friend's face, none shone in the grey eyes.
"Ray?"
"Take Dief and ...have a sniff around or whatever it is ya do."
Ray's pale set face left no room for discussion and Benton nodded.
"As you wish"

Diefenbaker preceded him on the crime-scene and, together, they combed the muddy, foul vacant lot. People had been dumping garbage and rubble there for ages and the whole place was infested with a throath-clenching stench. By now, the rain had soaked everything through and through and the mud fastened itself unto the wolf's coat. It was as he had feared, the downpour had erased even the most blatant clues. Not even Dief's ultra-sensitive nose could come up with anything and he looked apologetically at Fraser.

Fraser was angry. Well, that was an understatement really. The body they had discovered only a few hours ago was the fourth in ten days. All children had been raped, beaten and gruesomely murdered. And every time, their naked abused little bodies had been found dumped on several vacant lots throughout the city, throats slit. These were the most gruesome murders any of them had ever seen...No, that wasn't true; they had seen worse, crueler murders but the fact the victims were children made it so much worse. The atmosphere at the precinct was tense and grim. Everyone had pulled together to hunt for the killer but they sat in constant dreadful fear of another body. The lab had turned up with blood type B+. Fraser absolutely refused to think about how they had retrieved that particular piece of information. Psych had brought in a typical unhelpful profile: white male, 35-45, probable background of abuse and neglect, functioning in society, etc. Blueprint and carbon copy of every paedophile and serial killer.
Benton spared a glance at Ray, who was staring at them, observing every move he and the wolf made. The lines on his partner's face were etched so deep, they might have been scars. Fraser grimaced, Ray's face was showing the mileage of stress and horror. And so was his, he knew that. After ten more minutes of fruitless searching, he gave up and returned to his friend's side. Diefenbaker followed suit, whimpering softly.
"Nothin'?"
Ray spoke in a tone of voice, Fraser had never heard before nor cared to hear again. He couldn't pinpoint what it was that sounded so wrong, but it gave him goose bumps.
"Sorry, Ray."
Kowalski closed his eyes momentarily as if pained. When he opened them again, they somehow seemed deeper, darker, hurting. Fraser cringed at the sight. He moved closer to his lover, but Ray suddenly turned and retreated to the car.
"Come on, Frase. There's nothing here for us anymore."
The mountie sighed sadly and followed his partner, taking place in the car beside him. Kowalski started the engine and they drove off, leaving the reality of the crime scene behind, but not the memories.

Fraser uncovered the bubbling pot on the stove and waited an instant, wafting the herb-scented steam away. He grabbed a wooden spoon from the counter and stirred the tomato sauce, adding some oregano to the mix. He glimpsed at Ray who lay sprawled on the living room couch, an arm thrown over his face.
Benton hated the case, loathed and detested it. He hated the fact Ray had to work on it but mainly, he hated what the case was doing to Ray. His friend was obsessed by it and had been ever since they discovered the first butchered body. Not that he couldn't understand it; this was the sort of case that could drive any cop nuts, let alone someone who felt things as deeply as Ray. Fraser feared that, if they didn't find the killer soon, his friend would lose it completely. He had never seen his partner so driven, so dark, so...frightening before. Fraser sighed, shaking off the morose thoughts. He scooped some cooked pasta on a plate, covered it with the tomato sauce and brought it out to Ray in the living room.

"Here, take this."
"Waz dat?"
"I know it has been a while, Ray, but it's food, remember?"
"Not hungry"
"So what else is new?"
Ray's appetite had been virtually non-existent since all this mess started and he was beginning to worry. It was bad enough Ray hardly slept, not eating would only drain his strength more.
"Ray, please...you must eat something."
He frowned when he heard the whiny tone in his own voice, but it seemed to have effect. Ray uncurled from the couch and accepted the plate of hot pasta. Smiling victoriously in Dief's direction, Benton returned to the kitchen to fix himself a plate as Ray began to eat. He was really pleased he had finally convinced his lover to get some much-needed nutrients into his body. He hated it when Ray abused himself over a case, driving his already slender body so hard collapse was never far away. Ray looked vulnerable in a way of people who work too long and forget to eat. In a way of someone who's hurting.

When Fraser returned with his own plate of steaming spaghetti and sat down on the couch; Ray had already switched on the TV and was watching some hockey game. The rest of the evening was spent in a silence that was almost palpable, while they ate and watched the damn game. All evening long, Diefenbaker remained close to Ray as if trying to instil security in the slender man. And so they sat, two hearts and two solitudes.

Fraser was woken out of his superficial sleep when Ray turned over for the umpteenth time, punching his pillows. His lover lay down again but after a few seconds he punched his pillows once more before sinking heavily into them, pulling the blankets higher as he did so. Fraser rolled his eyes.
"Ray."
"Mmm?"
"Sleep."
Ray turned on his back and sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling. Fraser was sick at the expression on his lover's face, so tired and old with those haunted eyes. He crept closer to Ray and slid his arms around his wiry friend, whose body was all angles, all hard. To his surprise, Ray half-turned and threw his arms around Fraser, pressing their bodies close together. Benton sensed the embrace wasn't meant passionately ( Ray's sexdrive had pretty much gone the same way as his appetite), but that it stemmed from a deep emotional need to be held and comforted. So, he held his lover tight and Ray clung to him as if his life depended on it.

After some time, Ray's death grip on him eased and he let go. They shared a soft, tender kiss after which Ray turned over and let his lover spoon him. Time passed slowly while the Mountie listened attentively to his friend's breathing until it grew soft and regular, indicating sleep had finally taken over.

Ray's skin was cool against his and he hid his face in the crook of his lover's neck , inhaling the man's scent. Its familiarity comforted him; he knew that fragrance, could pick it out from amidst thousands. He loved Ray...so much. There was something about him that just seemed to tear at his soul. He knew Ray was hurt inside in a way he couldn't really figure out; he knew it went further than the divorce though. Somewhere in the past, Ray's ability to trust had been greatly damaged but -fortunately- not completely destroyed, although it had left him a man full of holes, incomplete. But he loved that damaged man. How could he not? Vecchio's unforeseen undercover assignment and subsequent disappearance had been a shock, as had Kowalski. Impossible to figure him out: this electric, seen-it-all, cynic cop who carried around so much turmoil, so much pain. Ray was so like and so unlike Vecchio. How could two men with such distinctly different pasts, both be so hurt? He loved Vecchio, but he fell in love with Kowalski. But what was more important, Ray fell in love with him, too. That was a fact he thanked God for every single day. Grateful that he finally had a pretty sound relationship with somebody. Something totally different from the romance he had had with Vecchio. That affair had been complex from the start, but after that dreadful, horrible mess with Victoria it had stood no chance for survival. They had remained close, intimate friends but he could understand why Ray had needed to leave.

Now, Kowalski was a different matter entirely. Fraser had meant it when he said he believed love at first sight could happen. That's what it had basically been with the new Ray, 'his' Ray. Well, let's say...love at second sight after getting over the initial shock. True, their relationship had started out as something of a bumpy ride because he hardly dared give in to the overwhelming feelings he had for Ray. Kowalski had been frustrated, hurt by Fraser's apparent reticence; that's why they had fought, almost split up even. It had been a close call, something that had almost destroyed what they had together. Both of them had been so ready to accept their transfers and chuck it all. Ray punching him had only been a symptom of his partner's frustration, Fraser could see that now. And then there came the Robert McKenzie and everything changed. During that case, he had not only almost lost Ray, but also all their mutual frustration had boiled over until his father had taught him to accept his dependence on Ray. He had learned to acknowledge how much he needed his partner and he understood now Ray needed to be needed. They were much closer now. Drifting apart...that was never gonna happen to them, ever again.

Fraser slid his hand over Ray's chest until it rested over his lover's heart. The mute thump under his fingers soothed and relaxed him. He was happy, content that Ray shared his bed, his life. He hoped he would wake up to the same smile, the same kiss every day for the rest of his life. He regretted nothing, not coming to this country or getting involved with Ray. Nothing. One day, he hoped he would be able to take Ray home with him to the Territories and that his friend would learn to love it as much as he did. He often indulged in a daydream wherein Ray and he would travel the Yukon together and maybe spend the winter in his cabin or something. He was sure Ray-city boy as he was- could love Canada and the great open.
Benton sighed. Maybe...Some day...
His mind filled with images of home and Ray, he gently drifted off.

Ray threw the phone in its cradle and cursed whole-heartedly. Fraser rushed out of the bedroom, vest half-unbuttoned and threw a questioning glance at his partner. Kowalski caught the look and shook his head, grimacing.
"Eight year old kid didn't come home when he was supposed to."
"Oh dear."
"I'm headin out there, ya comin'?"
"Of course I'm coming."
Ray quickly checked his gun and grabbed his vest from the coat rack by the door. They had only come home from a frustrating day an hour ago, but there was no way he was gonna let Ray go out on this one on his own. Fraser diligently re-butonned his tunic and grabbed his Stetson from the table.
"Diefenbaker, if you please..."
Unnecessary words, the wolf was first out of the door.

Ray pulled over next to a blue-and-white and they got out of the GTO. The cop accosted one of the uniforms scribbling away in his ledger.
"Whadda we got here?"
The older cop looked up and glanced at Ray's badge, making sure he wasn't talking to some press mosquito.
"Chandlers reported their son missing an hour ago. Eight year old kid. They're inside if ya wanna ask 'em some questions, detective."
They nodded in thanks and entered the Chandler residence where they were led into the living room. There, the parents sat surrounded by a couple of cops and a woman from Victim-Aid. Mrs.Chandler was sitting on the couch, crying softly with a handkerchief pressed to her eyes. Mr.Chandler stood by the large living room window like a statue, grey and still. Ray approached the mother who looked up at him, teary-eyed, questioning.
"I'm detective Vecchio, this is Constable Fraser, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions, ma'am, please."
"NO!"
The sudden voice surprised everyone. Mr Chandler quitted his place by the window and came to stand behind his wife, hands resting on her shoulders.
"Let me ask you a few questions, detective. What are you going to do to find our boy? How many more children are gonna have to die before you catch this monster? How can you even sleep at night while our children are being abused and murdered?"
Ray reeled as if he'd been hit. Mr Chandler's voice was even, calm but laced with so much grief and venom, everyone cringed. An icy silence fell over the room, only interrupted by Mrs. Chandler's tiny sobs. Benton glanced at his friend who was staring at the father with unseeing eyes, his face so pale it was almost grey. The mountie moved quickly into position behind his lover and lay a reassuring hand on the sinewy shoulder. The gentle touch seemed to shake Ray out of whatever darkness he had sunk into and he nervously scraped his throat.
"Mr Chandler, be assured that we're doin' everythin' in our power..."
"Obviously not enough."
"...everythin' in our power to catch this man. We wont stop until we find your son and the person who took him. As for the way I sleep, not that it's any of your business, bad."
Strangely breathless, Ray stared at the grief-stricken couple for a few seconds before turning to Benton.
"Frase, could you take over, please?"
The words were whispered but Ray avoided the Mountie's searching gaze.
"As you wish."

Ray left Fraser to the interview and walked out of the living room. In the deserted hall, he leaned against the pale-green wall and closed his eyes. He hated it. He had always hated interviewing scared, sobbing relatives but this time was worse than usual. The father's accusing words had contained so much of a horrible truth, it stung. Images danced in front of his eyes, images of an ugly past, images of the murdered children. They stared at him, their dead eyes glared at him, reproachful, accusing. dead children with dead, butchered bodies. They showed him their horrid wounds, wailing for justice, crying out for revenge. Ray's eyes shot open and he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. Emotions he couldn't identify seethed through him, scalding him. He wanted to scream, but he refused to give up the last control he had over himself. He turned around and his eyes fell on a picture hanging on the wall. He gasped and clenched his heart tightly, encasing the fragile organ in a concrete coffin, wishing he could forbid himself ever to feel again. He was not going to cry!
Mickey Chandler stared at him from the picture with big green sparkling eyes, a huge grin on the freckled face. The photograph was vibrant, alive. Ray vaguely wondered who had taken it because, whoever it was, the guy had talent. The photographer had caught all the boy’s ebullience, all the essence of the child. Ray knew he had to find this kid alive, no matter what. The need pulled at his entrails, urging him along almost like a physical pressure. He had to get out of this house, away from all those reminders of how inadequate he was. It was suffocating him. He had to get out of there now. And he didn't mean now as in right now, he meant now as in 'yesterday'. Ray pushed away from the wall and staggered out into the open air.

Ray was talking to a uniform about the neighbourhood canvas when Fraser emerged from the house. The mountie took a moment to look around. The Chandler home on Lambeaux street was cosy and bright with a nice front garden. The street itself was quiet, a family suburb where everybody knew eachother. If he would ever be forced to settle outside of Canada, he wouldn't mind a street like this. Not that Ray would ever agree to live in a place like this. With that thought, his gaze shifted to his friend. Mr Chandler's attack on his partner had surprised him, but he could understand it from the poor man's point of view. Ray taking off like that had disconcerted him more, because it seemed so important to whatever was bothering his lover so much; the thing he couldn't figure out. He wondered if Ray was going to tell him what it was that preyed on him, but he doubted it. Ray was a pretty private person and Fraser already knew him better than anyone. Ray truly was the man of his life. He had loved Vecchio, but Kowalski blew his mind. Now, he couldn't imagine life if Ray wasn't a part of it. He didn't even want to consider it. Suddenly, he felt a crushing need to just grab his lover and kiss him until they'd both be gasping for breath. But the amount of people standing around them prevented that. Well, he'd make up for it tonight. He allowed his mind to veer into more romantic contemplations, but was surprised out of his pleasant reverie when Ray lightly touched his arm.
"Frase, y'okay?"
"Ah sorry Ray, just...never mind."
For a second, Kowalski observed him curiously before shaking his head.
"Look Fraser, I'm sure we ain't gonna find anythin' but could ya take Dief and..."
"...have a sniff around?"
A sad smile crept on Ray's face and he smiled.
"Yeah"
Fraser covered his friend's hand, which was still resting on his arm, with his own and stared into Ray's stormy grey eyes. He thought how he loved this man so much, it hurt and how he wanted to make everything all well for him. Fraser smiled encouragingly at his lover.
"I'll do my best."
"I know."

Fraser led Diefenbaker up and down the street, hoping the wolf would pick up a scent, a trace, anything. For the parents, for Ray, for himself. But as expected, as he feared, Dief found not even the slightest of traces. Benton turned to Kowalski, who was leaning against the car, his eyes like chips of ice. Fraser was tired of Ray looking like that, so old and weary. He wanted the old Ray back again; his hotheaded, passionate, sarcastic, kind lover who could go from a frown to a laugh in a second. He longed to see Ray's beautiful face light up with joy and love again, to see his lover's dazzling smile once more. He needed Ray to be happy again, something that wouldn't happen until they solved this case. Unwillingly, he approached his lover who looked at him, wearing an indescribable look on his face. When Fraser shook his head, Ray pressed a hand against his eyes as if trying to shut out an image. He pushed himself from the car, opened the passenger door and walked over to the other side.
"Let's go, Fraser."

Fraser skimmed trough the two-leaf file on Mickey Chandler, glancing at the facts he already knew by heart. Mickey Chandler: eight years old, 3ft6inch, 60 pounds, nape length brown hair, green eyes, last seen wearing dark blue jeans, red sweater, black sneakers and a black Hawk's cap. An all-american outfit for an all-american boy. He'd gone out to buy an icecream cone from the vendor and never came back. There were no witnesses and no traces of evidence, as usual. Fraser looked at the boy's picture, obviously this year's school photograph and grimaced. He feared they would never see the child alive again; he was really almost certain that the Chandler boy would be found dead, like all the others. There were no clues, no leads to follow and time was running out.

When the phone rang, Ray almost jumped on it. His barked 'hello?' was followed by a short silence and then an agitated:
"Okay, approach without sirens! Repeat: silent approach! Go in, backup will be there in ten minutes. Go get the bastard!"
Half the bullpen had looked up at Kowalski's exited monologue and were now staring at him, eyebrows raised. Ray got up, reaching for his vest and looked around.
"Witness saw a guy dragging a kid matchin' the Chandler's boy description into an abandoned house on Clover street. She alerted some uniforms that are goin' over there. I think we got the sonofabitch! Let's go, people!"
Huey and Dewey and some of the other detectives scrambled for their coats and car keys before storming after Ray to the cars.

They tore through the streets in unison, shattering the darkness of the cold city.
Fraser glanced at his friend, the other man's face was hard and tense, the tempestuous grey eyes fixed on the badly lit road before him as if trying to pierce the night. The drive towards the house on Clover was made in a total, unnerving silence. Benton knew his partner still held out wild hopes, but he couldn't allow himself that particular emotion. He passed his thumb past his eyebrow, his usual nervous tick.

Six blue-and-whites stood in front of the dilapidated house, some with gyroscopes on but all of them silent. The other cars screeched to a halt and the detectives jumped out. Ray scanned the cops standing around, searching for a small boy wrapped in blankets. When he saw no such thing, a cold fear clutched his insides painfully. When his partner's face drained of colour, Fraser understood. The sombre, angry look on the officer's faces confirmed his fears...the child was dead. Ray holstered the gun he had automatically pulled out and slowly, unwillingly mounted the moaning stairs. On the indication of the uniforms, Fraser followed his partner and the other cops through the dark, cold house towards the room where the body lay. He kept a close eye on Kowalski as they entered the pungent, tiled room -probably once a kitchen. Ray's demeanour never changed as they walked onto the crime scene. Fraser grimaced, tears brimming in his eyes. The murderer had been rushed, but in the short time he had had, he had butchered the young boy. Mickey Chandler was still fully clothed so it was probable he hadn't been raped; Fraser didn't even know if he could count it as a blessing. The small body lay in the corner of the room, thrown there as if it were a broken doll. Blood stained the rough wooden closets, the grimy yellow tiles, the grey peeling walls, the chalky child face. The house was silent, an icy tomb.
Fraser listened closely and heard the cop's angry murmurs, Dewey's stifled sobs, the sirens of the approaching useless ambulance, the screeching of tyres as more police cars pulled up outside, the crackle of radios and Ray's soft shaky breathing. Every sound was sharp in the cold, mouldy obscurity of the house.
After what seemed an eternity, Ray tore his eyes away from the small murdered body and walked out. Fraser followed him, making room for the coroner and the people from forensics spilling into the barren kitchen.

.

Fraser leaned against the GTO and observed the Chandler residence, hoping that -somehow- whatever was happening on the inside would show on the outside, if that were at all possible. Ray had insisted on going in alone to tell the parents the dreadful news. Fraser realised that -this time- his partner wanted to face the parents and his responsibilities, alone. He didn't agree, but hadn't bothered to argue, accepting it instead.

The front door opened and Ray walked out stiffly as if every bone in his body was hurting. Kowalski had gone in alive, but came out worse than a corpse. It seemed as if all life had been stripped from his lover's face, eyes and walk. And it dawned on Benton that he was losing Ray to something he couldn't even figure out. Piece by piece, his lover was slipping away from him and he didn't know how to stop it, how to throw a line. It reminded him of the time with Beth Botrelle. Ray had crumbled to pieces then, too, but he had known how to comfort and help there. This...this was beyond him.
Ray approached him and he shivered at the emptiness in the smoky eyes.
"How was it?"
Stupid question of course, but he needed to ask it because it implied so much more.
"Quiet...it was...quiet."
Ray's voice was not dead but sounded deceptively soft, like tissue over razorblades. Fraser looked at Ray and thought his lover was going to cry because his mouth was all tight at the corners. He reached out and pulled his friend close to him, wrapping his arms around the thin, painfully tense body. His lover grabbed him tight and buried his face in the folds of Fraser's tunic.

As it turned out, Mickey Chandler had been murdered about half an hour before the cops had raided the house. The small delay drove Ray nuts. It had been so close; if only the witness had called in a little earlier, they could've saved the kid and caught the bastard. Now, Mickey Chandler was just a statistic and his killer was still out there, hunting for a new victim.

Ray had been habitually quiet all the way home. Only one word sprang to mind when Fraser looked at him: tortured. The dark smudges under Ray's bright eyes made them blaze with a steady fire; his slim body was tense and coiled struggling to keep the rage and pain inside.
Nothing! Nothing had been found on the crime scene, not a print, not a clue. It was as if the boy had been murdered by an invisible, intangible man. Neither Dief, nor the guys from Forensics, nor he had sniffed out anything at all.. The whole thing was not only horrible but also unbelievably frustrating. Every cop in the department was freaking out big time, Fraser was losing hope of ever finding the killer and Ray was slowly but surely falling apart, physically and mentally exhausted. The only positive thing that had come from the latest murder was that, now, they had a witness. The young woman who had seen the guy the papers had dubbed 'the baby killer'. She was at the precinct now, sifting through hundreds of mug shots, putting together a composite. When the news of the boy's death had reached her, she had turned up at the station almost immediately, all tears, all guilt. Everyone at the precinct held out pretty high hopes she'd be able to pick the guy from the books, but Fraser doubted it. Without prints or DNA-evidence, they stood nowhere.

Once home, Ray positioned himself in front of the window, overlooking the vile nighttime city. He gazed at the sombre buildings and the knowledge that the killer was out there, prowling the streets, made him sick. The memories surged over him again, the way they had been ever since this mess of crap started. His gaze shifted from the outside world to the window. In the dark glass, he saw a pale man with dead eyes, trapped in the cold blackness. He wasn't on the other side of the glass, but caught in it, in a layer of ice. And you could only see him from a certain angle, otherwise he dipped and disappeared. The black ice sighed and invited him in; it was deeper now, moving like seaweed in oil. He was mesmerised by the flowing patterns, ready to lose himself in the cold darkness but Fraser's presence anchored him. Silence is of different kinds and has different meanings, but no words could comfort him more than Ben's wordless presence.

When he looked at the figure outlined against the dark pane of glass, Fraser was struck by how lonely is lover looked; like an ancient statue standing sentry in the night. He walked up to Ray and stood next to him for a minute, letting the silence speak for itself. But he couldn't help himself, he needed to hold his friend if only to bring some comfort to his own soul. He moved to stand behind Ray and tenderly slid his arms around the wiry body. He tightened his grip on Ray's tense body, but it didn't soften one bit. Ray allowed the embrace, but made no move to return it.
"We could've had 'im, Ben"
The words were raw, whispered.
"I'm serious, Frase. We failed that kid, we abandoned him."
"We did all we could, Ray."
"Not enough, not nearly enough."
Benton cringed at the venom and self-loathing obvious in Ray's voice and posture. He knew his friend was doing everything in his power and more. They stood under great pressure from the community and the mayor. All leads, every possible angle-even the dumbest and less likely- had been investigated. But they had all turned up empty.
The mountie frowned when he sensed the slight tremors racking Ray's sharp body. He knew his lover was falling apart and Benton needed to let him know, he would always be there to catch him. After a minute or so, the trembling subsided and Kowalski was in control of himself again. Benton pressed his body close to his lover's, hoping it would give his partner strength, but he grimaced when he felt how achingly thin Ray had become. His lover turned around in the embrace and snaked his arms around Fraser's waist. He hid his face in the curve of his lover's neck and sighed deeply, a small sob catching in his voice. Fraser gently caressed his lover's shoulders and back, trying to comfort him, trying to take away all of the darkness that haunted Ray. His lover didn't cry, one huge tear, but so seldom cried; but Benton knew he would eventually. After all this was over, after they caught the bastard, they'd both need to let the tears wash away the horror and the hurt.

Two days after the Mickey Chandler murder, Ray and Fraser were having breakfast together at the apartment. They were chatting idly about things and stuff, carefully avoiding the case by a million miles. For the first time in over a week, the atmosphere was less charged than a black-market freighter ship when suddenly the phone rang harshly, unexpectedly. Ray froze, his cup of coffee and smarties halfway to his mouth; sitting there like a statue while staring at the phone as if it would explode with the next ring. Fraser glanced at his friend, left the kitchen table when he saw Ray wasn't going to budge an inch, and picked up the phone.
"Ray Vecchio's residence, Benton Fraser speaking."
Ray stared at him with intense, turbulent eyes.
"Ah...sir, yes sir."
He covered the mouthpiece and whispered to Ray: 'Thatcher'. Ray closed his eyes momentarily, sighing with relief and he took a big gulp of his coffee-mix. The phone call went on for a while, consisting of-what Ray figured-basically a monologue on the icequeen's part interspersed with 'yes, sir's' by Fraser. The mountie ended the conversation with a grovelling 'Yes, sir; I'll be right there, sir.' As usual, the icequeen whistled and Fraser came running. Benton turned and grimaced when he saw the irritated look his partner was trying hard to hide.
"Inspector Thatcher called to remind me I am on duty today and that she is expecting me on time, for a change."
Ray didn't answer but downed the rest of his coffee in one big gulp before sitting back and raising an eyebrow.
"So...you want a lift?"

They drove to the consulate in a somewhat oppressed silence. Fraser knew Ray was unwilling to be alone today, the time frame for a new body was coming up and although Ray was not going to say it, his friend wanted him near. The crackle of the radio startled them both out of their morose thoughts.
"Car 117, car 117. A man matching the child killer’s description has been spotted pushing a boy in a car on Laughlin Street, please respond."
Ray grabbed the receiver, nearly yanking it from the dashboard.
"Central, this is car 117. We're five minutes from destination. Please state description of car!"
"Car 117, suspect's car is a teal coloured '88 Volvo, license plate: Oscar, Tango, Nine, Two, Five."
"Ten-four, central."

Fraser slapped the cherry on the roof of the car as his partner put the pedal to the metal. The car screamed down the busy streets towards Laughlin when Fraser suddenly noticed the Volvo merging into traffic. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"There!"
He pointed at the car and Ray swerved, settling in the chase. The suspect was driving like crazy, weaving his way trough the dense traffic at a maddening speed. Fraser held on tight as his partner raced after the Volvo, matching the man's speed and style, barely avoiding more then one car crash. He threw a nervous glance at his partner and was only mildly surprised to see the inferno in Ray's eyes. Kowalski gripped the steering wheel as if his life depended on it, sweat beading on his brow, his shoulders tense and knotted. Ray wasn't gonna let up, he was like a shark that had smelled blood and -if necessary- he'd chase the perp to the end of the world. The adrenaline that pumped through his partner's bloodstream was more effective than a shot of speed; it wasn't going to last, but in the short term it was magic.
Fraser was thrown against the door when Ray brusquely turned left, chasing the Volvo down a deserted alley. They came pretty close to the car, bumping into it and Fraser managed to glance inside. To his utter dismay, there was no sign of the abducted boy. When they spilled back onto the main street, they were joined by three blue-and-whites. Cars hurriedly pulled over when the cops shot by at full force, pursuing the suspect. Ray laughed shortly, bitingly pleased when he saw the roadblock up ahead. They had him! They had the bastard! There was no way out of this noose. The guy had no option but to stop because even ramming the blue-and-white's wasn't gonna buy him a ticket out of here. Fraser had no idea how or when they had done it, but somehow the officers seemed to have convinced a trucker to place his rig over the road as reinforcement. No way out.

"We got him! We fuckin' got the sonofabitch!"
Fraser smiled half-heartedly at the glee obvious in his partner's voice and he was about to reply when the Volvo suddenly braked and, skidding, spun around on its axis before coming to a halt. For an eerie moment, everything seemed frozen in time and the whole world went quiet. The air stretched thin. Then, the car roared into action, tyres screeching.
He's going to ram us...
The thought flashed through Fraser's mind, chilling his blood. At the same time, Ray slung the car in reverse and floored it. He turned the wheel harshly and, tyres spinning wildly, placed the car horizontally over the street. The blue-and-whites who had been following them, took place beside them in a standard roadblock formation. Fraser knew all this happened at a lightning speed but, from where he was standing, he wouldn't have minded a fast-forward button. They stared at the Volvo barrelling down on them and in a flash of icy blinding insight, Fraser knew it was going to crash right into them. At such speed, crashing into the driver's side would surely kill Ray if not the both of them. Kowalski already braced himself, trying to push away from the door. Fraser’s hand closed over his shoulder, grabbing a handful of shirt and leather jacket, ready to drag his friend out of harm's way. His other hand was already on the doorknob before he realised one of the police cars was blocking their escape. No way out. To their utter surprise, the Volvo braked violently, sending the car into a spin. A second later it came to a halt parallel with the GTO; the two cars about a yard apart. No one moved. Everybody seemed to be waiting for something to happen, which did when Ray jumped out of the car. He threw himself over the hood of the Volvo and jerked the door on the driver's side open, gun drawn. Fraser found himself right beside his partner, although for the life of him he couldn't remember how he got out of the car so quickly. Kowalski yanked the suspect from behind the steering wheel onto the ground, pressing a knee in his back. Barking the miranda at the stunned pervert, he cuffed the guy harshly.
Fraser was surprised at how 'average' the guy looked: normal height and build, modern stylish long hair pulled into a ponytail, nice regular features. Ray holstered his gun and turned to Fraser who was already searching the car. He pushed his partner aside and yanked the keys out of the steering column before rushing to the back of the car. He slid the key in the lock, breathed deeply and opened the trunk. For one instant, Fraser thought the booth was empty and panic seared through him. It was an unfamiliar emotion to Benton and not one he enjoyed. Fortunately, it subsided when he noticed the small figure sprawled against the back of the car seats.
"No..."
Fraser cringed at the anguish in Ray's voice, its tone so unsettling, so raw, so tortured. The child suddenly turned over and stared at them, fear written all over the tearstained face. Ray crouched in front of the opened trunk, but never attempted to touch the boy.
"Hey kiddo, it's okay...we're cops."
He showed the frightened child his badge and Fraser leaned over a little, smiling as he showcased his uniform. The boy kept staring at them with huge brown wet eyes. Fraser could see hope and suspicion battling for control on the boy's face.
"We're really the cops, kiddo. The bad man's gone, I swear."
Ray seemed desperate to convince the boy he could be trusted. After another's minute hesitation, the kid uncurled from the back of the booth and -to their amazement- half-jumped, half-threw himself at Ray. the cop caught him and sank to the ground, arms wrapped solidly around the small body. The kid sobbed in the cop's shirt, softly crying for his mother. Ray hugged the boy tight, needing to feel the child, to convince himself that this time they had won. This time the kid lived. Fraser squatted next to the pair and slid his arm around his lover's shoulder. He frowned when he felt the wiry body shiver under his touch and enfolded Ray and the child in an embrace, holding them both close gathered. The three of them sat there for a while, comforting eachother. None of the other cops came near, respectful of their need for momentary solitude.
After a few seconds, Ray disentangled himself from the boy's chokehold on him and gently wiped the tears away from the kid's face. Fraser could read the immense relief in his friend's eyes, bordering on tears. The boy stared back at the cop.
"I want my mommy."
Ray's turbulent face broke into a big smile, which for the first time in a long while also reached his eyes, making them sparkle.
"We'll find yer mommy."
The words were whispered so tenderly, Fraser felt his skin tighten. Kowalski got to his feet, child in his arms and handed the boy to one of the female cops standing by. She wrapped the kid in a blanket and presented him with a fluffy teddy, which was grasped tightly. Two big brown eyes peeked out from between the folds of the blanket and a small hand sneaked out, gripping Ray's vest.
"Don't go"
Ray smiled warmly and took the small hand in his.
"Don't worry, kiddo. Sylvia here's gonna help ya find yer mommy, okay?"
"'kay..."
The kid grasped the teddy tighter and let go off Ray. Sylvia turned and carried the boy to an ambulance that had arrived just a minute ago. Ray turned to Fraser, whose arm was still around his lover's shoulders.
"He's okay, Frase."
"Yes Ray, he's all right. You saved his life."
Kowalski' s smile reached a dazzling crescendo. Then, his eyes fell on the man he had just arrested and his face darkened. Something glacial and harsh seemed to come over his partner and the light that had momentarily blazed in his eyes died out again.
"And now to finish this."
Ray's voice was like chipped ice and Fraser shivered.

Fraser took place behind the two-way mirror next to Welsh and Huey, who were already looking at what was going on in the interview room. Behind the steel table and cuffed to it, sat a thirty something man. A handsome guy with green eyes and dark hair restrained by an elastic, broad muscular shoulders and strong hands. It disgusted Fraser when he looked at those hands that killed the children, disgusted at how that man had abused his physical advantage to overpower those children.
Ray circled the guy, like a shark before attacking. Benton smiled; he could imagine the man's nervosity and apprehension. Ray was truly menacing, emanating a silent threat of violence and maybe...just maybe intense unhingedness.
"He's headin' fer a kill."
Welsh's rough voice cut through the tension in the room.
"He wants a confession, sir", Fraser replied.
"We al do, constable."
Not that they needed the confession; their witness had already picked the sicko -Paul Adelcom-out of a line-up and the moron hadn't objected to the DNA-testing. On top of it; he refused to get a lawyer. How more insane could this guy get?

Back in the interview room, Ray sat down in front of the man, Paul Adelcom.
"So, Paul, why did ya grab the kid?"
Typical Kowalski, direct and to the point. Adelcom kept looking at his manacled hands as he sat all hunched up in his chair.
"I...I didn't know the kid was in the trunk."
The cop let out a short, sarcastic laugh, echoed by all the men in the other room.
"Yeah sure, nowadays kids in the trunk come optional with a car. Come on, Adelcom, who're ya tryin' to kid? I got a witness who saw ya throwin' the kid in your car!"
Adelcom shrunk a little, trying to blend in with the chair, but he remained silent.
Everybody jumped a foot in the air-literally-when Ray bounced out of his chair, sending it skidding across the room. Adelcom started at the sudden movement and, fearfully, began to stammer.
"Okay, okay...I grabbed the kid, okay? I don't know why...I...I just did."
Ray retrieved the chair, sat down again and smiled placidly.
"Thank you...now we're getting somewhere."
"I...I really don't know what came over me...The kid...been buggin' me, you know...calling me names and stuff. Don't know what came over me. Wanted to teach him a lesson, I guess...I...I just snapped him up and...threw him in the trunk. I...I must have lost it or something."
Adelcom turned big, pleading eyes on Ray and Fraser saw his friend tense up.
"What about Mickey Chandler?" Did he bug you too?"
Ray's voice was stretched tight.
"Who?"
Kowalski opened the thick file lying in front of him, fished out the pictures of Mickey Chandler's mutilated body and threw them on the table for Adelcom to see.
"Mickey Chandler, eight years old. Ya wanted to rape him but didn’t' have the time, so ya just slit his throat!"
Adelcom glanced at the crimescene photos and quickly hid his face in his hands.
"Oh God, that's so horrible! Take 'em away, please!"
"He's fakin' it", Welsh grumbled. Everyone nodded in acquiescence. It was obvious; no matter how Adelcom tried to hide it, there was no real emotion in his eyes or voice. The guy knew what he was going to see before he saw it. He was the killer, they already knew that. This guy was gonna be convicted, no matter what. But they wanted a confession, they needed to hear him say he murdered those children. Ray needed to break him.
Kowalski kept throwing crime scene- and morgue photos on the table, reciting the appropriate names at the same time.
"Danny Michaels, six; Ryan Morgan, eight; Peter Ardello, seven; Neil Richards, six. All raped, beaten and butchered."
Adelcom's hands slid away from his face and he looked at the gruesome pictures. Fraser grimaced when he read the eager, cruel curiosity in the man's eyes and when Ray balled his fists, he realised his partner had seen it as well.
"Ya really didn't spare them, did ya?"
Adelcom didn't answer but kept staring at the pictures, a small intense flame glowing in the sly green eyes.
"Why did youa kill 'em, Paul? What was it? Did they deserve it? Were they bad little boys?"
Ray had been speaking in a low tone to Adelcom, the silky voice hard as cast iron but so off-key, it gave Fraser goose bumps. Kowalski leaned closer to Adelcom and continued in his quiet conspiratory voice.
"They had it comin', didn't they...The little bastards?"
The murderer turned a strange look on Kowalski, a crazed expression on his face, his eyes blazing with an emerald fire.
"You hear 'em, too, don't you...the filthy punks. Their whispers...the filthy things they say when you pass 'em in the street...Taunting you, tempting you. You hear 'em, too!"
Ray cocked his head, slightly smiling.
"I don't know if we're the same, you and me. What do they tell you?"
For a moment, Adelcom hesitated. Then, he drew back and crossed his arms over his chest, a picture of silent defiance.

"Too quick."
The words were spoken in unison by Welsh and Huey, but Fraser begged to differ. Ray would never let this guy slip through his fingers so easily.

Kowalski leaned back in his chair, seemingly relaxed and propped his feet up on the table. A mocking grin played on his sharp features.
"I knew you were a fake, Adelcom. You don't hear squat! Those kids, they don't tell youa anything! What youa hear are just the voices in your fucked-up head!"
Adelcom was quiet for one tense moment, apparently stunned by Ray's provocative speech but then he exploded.
"Fake?! Fake!! I'll show you fake!"
He tried to jump up but was jerked back in the chair by the cuffs, but it didn't stop him from raging on.
"I hear those fuckin' kids, I tell you! The filthy things they say! If you hear them like I do, you know what they say. The things they ask you to do, the disgusting things they want you to do to them. And after you do what they ask, they start threatening you. And then you have no choice but to kill the little whores!"
Fraser breathed heavily. This man was completely disturbed, totally insane.
"Is that why you slit their throats?"
Ray's voice was detached and cool, bordering on the civil; Fraser shivered, involuntarily. Everyone in the adjoining room leaned in closer, tensely. This was it, the big moment. Depending on Adelcom's answer, they'd have a full confession or pure denial. The man looked fiercely at Ray. Green fire meeting grey blaze. A strange smile crept on the crazed man's face. An animal nerve in Ray wanted to batter that grin off the bastard's face and keep on battering until the face was gone too, but he restrained himself. He was not gonna let this guy scream 'police-brutality'.
"No...I slit their throats to shut them up, couldn't stand their squealin' anymore."

"Son of a bitch!"
Everyone looked up at Huey's outburst, uncommonly vicious for the usual calm and polite man.
"I can't believe he admitted it so...freely"
Fraser really couldn't believe it; the guy had cracked like an egg only twenty minutes into the interview.
"Believe it or not, constable, he just fessed up. Vecchio got what he wanted and we got all we need so...let's get outta here."
Welsh got up and left the room, followed by Huey. From behind the mirror, Fraser saw the lieutenant open the door and give Ray the sign. Kowalski nodded, but showed no intention of leaving just yet so Fraser decided to stick around and see what his friend was up to.

"So Paul, you know what you just did?"
"Gee, let me think...Oh my...I just confessed, didn't I ?"
Ray ignored the sarcasm and fixed the man with a disgusted glare.
"Why?"
"For the fun of it. You already had me anyway, why do you think I didn't want a lawyer?"
"Okay then...Why? Why rape 'em, why kill 'em?"
Fraser tensed, eager to hear the answer to the same question he had been dying to ask. Adelcom frowned, seemingly confused.
"I already told you that...They're runts acting like cheap whores. Filthy perverted little bastards, they deserved everything I did to them!"
"They were kids, fer god's sake!!"
"What's that got to do with it?"
Ray's fists pounded on the steel table, rage blazing in his eyes.
"What's that got to do with it?!"
The words were gritty, venomous. Fraser rubbed at the goose bumps on his arms. He had heard Ray's voice with dozens of different intonations before: hurt, disinterested, enraged, kind, frightened, teasing, angry, pissed, annoyed, bored, loving, relieved, gentle, tired, happy and many more; but he had never heard that voice so serrated before. Fraser hated Adelcom, heart soul and entire being. If he would actually give in to the feeling, he'd tear the guy's throat out for what he did to those children. He was surprised by the fact Ray hadn't threatened to jump Bogart on Adelcom yet, it just showed how troubled his friend was by this case.

In the interview room, Ray had edged closer to Adelcom, his face contorted with hate.
"You not only killed those children, you took their innocence away. You robbed them of their purity! You took away everything that should be protected in a child and then, after youa defiled them, you butchered them!"
Adelcom sneered. "Just disgusting little whores."
Ray straightened and a steely mask replaced the enraged look on his face.
"They're gonna give ya one hell of a time in da joint, ya know. Child killers never go down too well there."
Fraser smiled when he saw something like fear creep in Adelcom's eyes. But suddenly, the look changed and the man's face cleared up with a kind of disbelief as a thought apparently dawned on him.
"You lied..."
There lay an amused bewilderment in the pervert's voice.
"I thought you were like me, but you lied didn't you? You're not like me at all, you don't hear their whispers. No...you used to be one of them, one of those filthy little whores, didn't you?"
There was a long and aching pause in which Fraser seemed glued to the mirror, frozen to the marrow. The words had torn into him like broken glass and remained there, glasspowder under his skin. Could it be? Could Ray have been...?No! NO! No way! He had never considered, didn't want to consider it. Oh dear...
Back in the other room, Ray looked triumphantly Adelcom.
"Well, if I ever was one of them, ya know what that means?"
"What?", the man asked suspiciously.
"That one of those filthy little whores just busted ya. I arrested you and made you sing like a tweety-bird with its privates caught in its zipper. I brought ya down, ya son-of-a-bitch, now what does that say about you?"
With those words, Ray left the room, slamming the door behind him. Fraser waited a minute before he also left the adjoining room. Once in the hallway, he looked around but his partner was nowhere in sight. He was glad for it, needing a few moments to gather his thoughts on what had happened. He couldn't accept the reality behind Adelcom's words. How could he take the allegations of a paedophile and serial killer seriously? He would have to ask Ray, but how could he do that? Fraser feared evening and the conversation they were bound to have. He needed an answer, he needed Ray to tell him it was all a lie, even if his partner would resent him for asking the question. Fraser sighed deeply and ran his thumb along his eyebrow. How did everything get so complicated all at once?

Ray stood in his usual spot by the window when Fraser emerged from the bedroom. The mountie glanced at the face reflected in the glass and, as expected, found its expression to be grave and slightly pained. The face of a dead man staring out of the window with life, vibrant eyes. There was something about Ray's eyes that always made Fraser gasp. Those eyes that showed so much but hid even more. Those eyes so capable illumination, at times they would not only shine but blaze. Ray was so beautiful. Fraser watched his lover for a few minutes, unnoticed. Ray seemed a million miles away, but Benton knew exactly where his thoughts dwelled. When he let himself sink down in the couch, Ray quitted his sentry by the window and seated himself next to his lover. He snuggled up to Fraser who wrapped his arms around the skinny beloved body and held on tight.
"Hard case."
"Shitty case", Kowalski agreed "Glad it's over." There was a strange strangled quality to his lover's voice as if he was trying to fight back a flood of tears. "I never wanna see a dead kid, ever again."
Fraser grimaced. "Ditto."
Diefenbaker approached them, softly yapping, jumped on the couch and licked Ray's face. After some smothered protests, Ray managed to push the wolf away and he looked at Fraser, slightly irritated.
"Ben...Why does yer wolf always feels the need to slobber someone's face off?"
"He usually does it when he feels someone's upset…and he likes you a lot."
Fraser's heart leapt up when he saw a small shy smile creep on Ray's depressed face. He roughly cuddled Dief and the smile grew a bit.
"Silly wolf..."

Suddenly, Ray fell silent. He couldn't speak anymore. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd start to cry and would never be able to stop. He fought against the tears with all his might but when Fraser's lips pressed softly against his brow, it was as if a dam broke. The tears came from somewhere deep inside him, dripping on their interlaced fingers, tears warm as blood from a wound.
Fraser's grip on his lover tightened when he heard the choked sobs, so heavy with pain and anger. Then, at once, Ray disentangled himself from Fraser's embrace and got up from the couch. He walked over to the window, hugging himself as though he might fall to pieces otherwise. He leaned tiredly against the window frame.
"Ray...", Fraser began, but stopped when he saw the shield that stood around Ray, as visible as a rock and twice as hard.
"Leave it, Frase."
Fraser got up and approached his lover, gently laying his hands on the wiry shoulders.
"I can't leave it, Ray. The pain, your pain. I can't stand it."
"Please, Frase..."
The pleading tone in Ray's voice made Benton cringe. His friend wasn't the kind of man to beg for anything, how unsettling it was to hear it then.
"Talk to me, Ray. Tell me. It would do you good, chase out some old demons."
Kowalski laughed sarcastically.
"No thanks, man. They're the only company I keep."
Fraser draped his arms around his lover's torso, resting his chin on Ray's shoulder.
"Ray, what Adelcom said in there..."
"Ben please, I'm tryin' to forget everythin' that crazy fuck said in there, okay!"
"I understand that but...what he said about you..."
In a split second, Ray had turned into a block of Yukon permafrost in his arms.
"Ya were still there?"
"Mm-hmm."
Ray sighed deeply and the ice melted a bit.
"He lied, Ben. He invented the whole damn thing to throw me off guard, ya know. To destabilize me. I was expecting some disgusting insinuation or other. It wasn't a surprise."
Fraser turned Ray around and cupped the beloved face, looking deeply into the grey eyes. He hoped to find the answer he needed in them. To his dismay, he ran into a massive brick wall. Ray had pulled up walls of secrecy in his eyes, hiding everything. The dove-grey eyes were empty and blank, nothing could be read in them.
"Are you lying to me?"
He hated himself for asking that question but he had to. Ray only smiled.
"No, Frase. I ain't lyin' to ya."
But his eyes remained carefully empty. This wasn't the first time Ray remained secretive about his past. Where Fraser could usually read his lover's eyes, he would find mountains of secrecy in them. He wondered if he would ever know the truth. He didn't know if he could believe Ray's words, but he damn well wished he could. He opted to believe his friend because he needed to trust in the fact Ray had not been damaged in such a way. No...if Ray were lying, the implications would be too dreadful. Anyway, truth or not, it was his duty to believe his lover. It didn't make a difference, after all. He loved Ray deeply and nothing would ever change that. No matter how badly his lover was messed up inside, no matter how much luggage he carried around, no matter how heavy the weight on Ray' shoulders or the amount of demons he chose as company; Benton would stand by him and care for him. Whatever had happened to Ray in the past, it would never change one iota about his feelings for him.
"You're right, Ray. I believe you. Adelcom is...as you say, a crazy fuck."
"Geeesh Frase...that sounds so weird comin' out of yer mouth."

Fraser looked at Ray earnestly and wondered if he had been born with that face burned on his heart. And he knew -no matter what- he would always be devoted to this man. Life had become 'easier' since he had learned to give in to this overwhelming love and dependence on Ray. It was strange how such a strong, independent lone wolf like Ray, so needed to feel needed.
He splayed his hands on Ray's cheeks and brushed his thumbs over the soft lips. Kowalski's eyes burned in his, in them a strange sadness intertwined with a warm love. It used to be so hard for him to say the words, they had always felt foreign in his mouth until he met Stanley Kowalski and the words had hit their full meaning. Now, Fraser was comfortable saying the words to his beloved, his Ray.
"I love you, Ray. Never doubt that."
An achingly tender smile broke on Ray's face and he laid his hand softly against his lover's cheek. such a sweet innocent, unbelieving smile, it stripped years of Ray's face.
"I won’t forget it, not ever. I...I'll always love you, Ben."
Ray's arms snaked around his waist, pressing their bodies together. Fraser's mouth covered Ray's, at once hard and gentle, his tongue hunting for his lover's until it was made welcome in the heat of the willing mouth. Ray's hands were hot on his back, clenching the fabric of his shirt. Those strong nimble hands that could be so gentle caressing his body.
Suddenly, he tasted salt on his lover's lips and realized Ray was crying. Fraser pulled back, worried and was pained to see the tears dripping from his lover's eyes. Ray was the very picture of anguish and misery. He hated it when his lover cried, the tears hurt.
"Please Ray, don't cry.", he said thickly, hardly trusting his own voice. Something moved deep inside his gut, a formless thing he feared would fly out and make him cry. And he didn't want to break down. Ray needed him too much, needed him to be strong for the both of them. He hated having to be the strong one. Ray looked like he was about to collapse, so he quickly wrapped his arms tight around the shuddering body. Ray pressed his face in his neck and sobbed. The horribly pained sound made Fraser weak in the knees. For one moment, he was afraid he was going to fall down himself. He breathed deeply, focusing on the precious cargo in his arms, refusing to let his pain get the better of him.

Ray cursed under his breath, inside he was screaming at himself to stop bawlin' his eyes out. But he couldn't stop. All the accumulated shit of this case had been suffocating him for days, now. But it was Fraser's loving touch, even after all that crap Adelcom had said, that had finally broken him. The barrage had ruptured and a flood of tears poured out of him. Fraser's arms were warm around him and he felt very small and safe and protected in a way he had never felt before. He didn't know exactly when he had dropped his armor and shed his facade. After the divorce, he had decided never to let his heart feel again but Fraser had waltzed in and brushed all that away. He didn't even mind letting his defenses down for his lover, but he hated how open it had left him for being hurt all over again. Although Fraser wouldn't be the one to hurt him...well, not intentionally or knowingly, anyway. The flood rose in him again. God! Wasn't he ever gonna stop cryin'? How old was he, fer fuck's sake? He tried not to feel five years old, he tried to feel at least nine. Who cared anyway? Fraser didn't care that he cried, so why should he?

Benton looked at the window and saw their intertwined bodies reflected in the dark pane of glass. Ray's wiry body pressed against his wider frame, his lover folded away in his arms. Benton was awed at how small and vulnerable Ray looked, even if they were the same height. A few tears slipped down his cheek, unchecked. And then, he found himself crying without a sound. He wept for all those poor children they hadn't been able to save and for Ray, who was so hurt he might never heal.

They walked out of the precinct towards the GTO, which was parked a little further on the lot. The weather was great, it hadn't rained in days and somehow, strangely, the world seemed brighter. Fraser glanced at the man walking next to him; Ray looked...relaxed. It had been almost a month now since Adelcom had been arrested and they were trying hard to leave the horrors of the case behind them. Ray's nightmares were less frequent and only occasionally did he get that weird, blank look. Fraser's own dreams slowly lost their dark edge while he hung on to Ray's assurance Adelcom was full of shit. Each and every day, he told himself to trust his lover in every possible way, 'cause otherwise nothing would go right.
Their new case was fairly straightforward and they would have it solved in no time. Everything seemed fine, lately.
"Quit lookin' at me, Frase, yer creepin' me out here!"
Ray's voice surprised him and he smiled at his lover.
"Sorry Ray, I was just daydreaming."
"Really?", a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Look mommy, there he is! That's the policeman that found me!"
The young boy's shrill voice made them look up, astonished. Ray's face lit up like a pinball machine that just hit the jackpot, when he saw the kid running towards them. It was the boy they had saved: Timmy Franks. Ray sank down on one knee and caught the boy who threw himself at him. Fraser beamed at the sight and then at the woman who approached them. She was a thirty-something, dark-haired, good-looking woman dressed in jeans, sweater and a leather coat. She returned his welcoming handshake with a grip that bordered on abuse.
"Good morning ma'am, I'm Constable Benton Fraser"
"Sarah Franks, Timmy's mother."
Ray disentangled himself from the boy's hold and rose to shake Sarah's hand.
"Hi, I'm detective Ray Vecchio and..."
"You saved my boy's life."
Sarah smiled hugely at Ray, who looked away embarrassedly, slightly blushing.
"Well, it was just...right place, right time..."
The woman's face suddenly became serious and grave.
"No detective, don't sell yourself short, it was much more than that. You put your life on the line to save my son and there is nothing in the world I can do to repay that!"
Ray glanced at his partner and the mountie was glad to see tendrils of pleasure in the slate grey eyes.
"There's nothin' to repay, Mrs. Franks. Just doin' my job for once...that's all."
Attempting to avoid Sarah's grateful gaze, Ray crouched next to Timmy.
"Hey kiddo, ya want me to show you how to work the sirens on a patrol car?"
The boy's face brightened with an exited grin.
"Yeah!!"
"Okay, let's go then!", Ray laughed and took Timmy's hand in his. As the both of them walked towards one of the parked blue-and-whites, Fraser turned to Sarah.
"He's a very brave boy, your son. How did the whole affair affect him?"
Sarah smiled a little as the pair got in the car.
"Well, he was very scared at first, he had nightmares and stuff...Now, he seems to consider the whole thing as some sort of big adventure. He's even been bragging about it at school."
"Children are resilient."
Both of them chuckled when the car's sirens suddenly wailed loudly, making one of the uniforms jump up as if stung by a bee. Ray started to explain the situation to the pissed-off cop, gesturing wildly. Sarah turned to Fraser.
"You know, constable, I thank god every day that the both of you came in time to prevent that...monster from laying his hands on my son."
"My partner could tell you exactly the same thing, ma'am."

Again, they laughed when Ray turned on the sirens once more, making the retreating uniform jump a foot in the air, again. Kowalski quickly rolled up the window when the other cop almost charged the car. Timmy was in stitches on the passenger seat.
"Timmy hasn't stopped talking about your friend for weeks, almost singing his praise. I can see why. We've been calling around a bit, trying to find out who the arresting officer was but we didn't have a name. There wasn't even anything in the papers about it...."
"No...Ray hates the press. He tries to keep his face out of it as much as possible."
Fraser fell silent and looked at Ray who was pointedly ignoring the cop knocking on the window, too busy showing Timmy the 'entertainments' of a police-car.
"This must've been a horrible case for you all?"
Sarah's voice was quiet, full of empathy and feeling.
"Yeah..horrible..."
The look on the Mounties’s face was hard, his mouth compressed and it was obvious to anyone who looked at him, that those smouldering blue eyes had seen things no one should ever have to see. Sarah Franks grimaced when she saw the sharp edge on the beautiful face. The mountie was undeniably handsome, but he looked weary as if he carried around a too heavy burden. And the way he looked so tenderly at his partner in the car, explained the whole situation to Sarah. She touched the Mounties’s arm and he turned to her. Gently, aware of his reticence, she embraced him and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you, constable. For everything."
Ray finally got out of the car with Timmy, giving the uniform an extremely smug smile along the way. The kid detached himself from Ray's side and galloped towards his mother.
"Mom! Mom, he let me play with the sirens and I got to use the radio! It was really cool, mom!"
He flung himself around his mother's waist, giggling as she hugged him. Ray approached calmly, a lop-sided smile on his face, his grey eyes almost silver. When he took place beside his partner, Sarah stretched out her arm towards him and softly laid her hand against his cheek. Then, she drew him into a hug, wrapping her arms around the sinewy body of the man who had saved her son from a horrible and cruel fate.
"Thank you, detective. Thank you for keeping my family whole. Thank you...for everything."
She felt Ray take a deep, shuddering breath and he hesitantly returned her embrace.
"It was...my entire...honor an' pleasure, ma'am."
Kowalski disentangled himself from the hold and Fraser almost laughed out loud when he saw his lover's flushed face. Sarah stooped and picked her son up into her arms, paying no attention to the cop's embarrassed blush.
"I'm sorry, but we have to go. My lunch hour is almost over and I have to get Tim here back to school."
The three grown-ups chuckled when the boy made a wry face.
"Well, say goodbye now Timmy."
Once more, the boy leaned over and hugged Kowalski, hanging on to the cop's neck. He pressed a wet kiss somewhere below Ray's ear and then, pulled away.

They looked at Mrs. Franks and Timmy as they got in the car and drove away, returning the boy's exited waving until they were out of sight.
"He's okay, Frase."
The mountie lay his hand on his partner's shoulder, a touch innocent enough when seen from the outside, but in fact very tender and heavy with implication.
"You saved him, Ray."
He could feel his lover's happiness curling into the air around him like incense. Ray looked at Fraser for one charged moment and then shook his head, smiling.
"Let's go grab lunch, okay Frase."
"Right behind you."

It was going to be a slow healing process with several ups and downs but, if Ray had told the truth, he could start to mend. They would never forget this case; the names and faces of the five little boys would be branded on their memories forever. Danny Michaels, Peter Ardello, Neil Richards, Ryan Morgan but especially Mickey Chandler would be close to them, because with him they had come so close and still so late.
For a moment, Fraser stood back and observed Ray, his oh so strong yet oh so vulnerable lover. He trusted Ray more then his lover trusted himself. One day, his friend would find that strength within himself, Fraser had always been aware of. Ray looked so tough yet beautiful walking towards the car, but Fraser knew the fragile man that lay beneath that surface bravado. But he also knew somehow, someday, everything would turn out okay, maybe.

"Yo Frase! Are ya gettin' in or are ya leggin' it?"
"Coming Ray."
Fraser smiled to himself as he turned towards the car. Ray was waiting for him. They'd go out for lunch, come back, wrap up the case, go home and make love. Happy in the knowledge that, even if their lives were far from perfect, they had eachother.