The Effects of Hypothermia Upon the Heart (Due South fic)

[laurie_ky]

Title The Effects of Hypothermia Upon the Heart
Author Laurie
Word Count 10,619
Fandom Due South
Artist Zelempa. (Four pages of comic book style illustrations)
Pairing Ray Kowalski/Benton Fraser
Characters Ray Kowalksi, Benton Fraser, Robert Fraser, Buck Frobisher
Rating Teen PG-13
Author's notes Beta'ed by the fabulous Lady Ra. I bid on Zelempa's offer to do art for a charity auction. I absolutely love her comic book style of illustrations.

Summary Set during Call of the Wild, Ray Kowalski struggles with hypothermia and what to do now that Fraser's old partner has returned and reclaimed his rightful life. Ray Kowalski might be half frozen on this Canadian mountain, but at least he's got his partner to keep him warm.

Story at AO3


A hammock.

Hanging in a hammock.

In the dark, on the side of a freakin' Canadian mountain.Ray wiggled and rocked his cradle again, letting loose one last "whee!" before he began giggling like a twelve year old girl. "Shut the fuck up already, Kowalski," he tried to tell himself, but obviously he wasn't listening.  Oh.  Wrong name.  "Shut the fuck up already, Vecchio!"  Wait a minnnnit...  He was kaputski with being Ray Vecchio.  The real Ray Vecchio was back from being a Mafia mastermind and was using his own name again. Of course, Mr. Well-dressed had gotten himself shot up for his old-buddy-the-Mountie lickety-split.  But before Vecchio had done the hero bit he'd made sure Ray knew he wasn't needed anymore -- the guy had staked out his old territory at the 2-7, aka, Ray's desk, and shoved him right out of the space Ray had carved for himself, landing him out in the cold.   Ray thought Vecchio maybe had felt a little bad about doing that, but hey, that's the way it was for guys who lost themselves in their undercover gig.

That thought made him feel kind of blue, and the goofball laughing he'd been doing tapered off.  Yeah, Stanley Raymond Kowalski had only borrowed Vecchio's family, his job, and his partner. It wasn't like he had expected to be able to keep anything
.
He wouldn't be stopping by the Vecchio homestead anymore to check up on how Ma Vecchio was doing.  Tony, he was an okay-shmoe, but kind of useless around the place, so he, the pretend son, had lent a hand. He couldn't do it for his own mother as she and his father tooled around the country in their motor home. Besides, his dad was the original Mr. Fix-it.  His parents didn't need his help. Not like Ma Vecchio, who would kiss him on the cheek and tell him he was a good boy, after he'd taken care of some little thing for her.  Now he wouldn't need to change the oil in her car, or fix the dryer, or do any of the other hundred and one things he'd done in the name of being a good son.   The good son, the prodigal son, was home now, and Ray Kowalski's help wasn't needed anymore.

And Frannie... Okay,  he had ended up liking Frannie. She kind of grew on a guy, like, toenail fungus, plus she had a nice rack, which she showed off in those skimpy shirts and barely buttoned blouses, but... the thing with undercover work was that it messed with your head. He had called her his sister, and he'd had to think of her as a sister -- a baby sister, annoying him all the time, but he'd have punched out the lights of anybody who bothered her. Except Frannie would have already taken care of her own business before he could have jumped in, but hey!  He would have kicked ass for her.  In a brotherly way.

He guessed Welsh would find a spot for him at the 2-7, if he asked, but it would be weird. He'd have to watch Fraser go back to being Vecchio's partner.

'Bennie,' Vecchio had called Fraser.  Bennie.  That wasn't a name for a Mountie.  That wasn't even a name for a partner.  That was a name you said to a friend, somebody you felt close to.  Vecchio had broken through Fraser's defenses with that name, like lobbing a grenade over the castle walls. Boom.  Fraser had smiled when Vecchio called him that name.   Shit.  Why hadn't that detail been in the file Ray had had when he did his chameleon thing and jumped from being Polish to Italian. Fraser had never told him the real Ray Vecchio had baptized him with that nickname, so it had been a private thing. A Vecchio and the Mountie kind of thing.  A club of two, because Raymond Kowalski noticed stuff( the thing with an attention span like his was that you tuned in to every little thing going on around you) and nobody at the 2-7 had used Vecchio's name for Fraser.  It was like it was sacred, or something.  Not for common use.

He pulled the blanket Fraser had tried to tuck around him up a little higher, till his chin was covered by the thick wool.  Then Ray tried Fraser's nickname out, felt the consonants and vowels roll around in his mouth till they spilled out softly into the freezing cold air.

He said 'Bennie' again, a little louder, and again, and again, until he was shouting it.

"Ray. Ray? Ray! What is it, Ray?  I can barely hear you."

Oh.  Constable Bat-ears couldn't make out what Ray was shouting.  Now that meant that either Fraser was deaf now, like the wolf, or Ray had gotten shouting confused with whispering.

He gave up borrowing Vecchio's name for his partner and carefully formed the word Fraser with his mouth and drew it back and let it fly out, out from his hammock and towards his partner who was bundled up in his own hammock against the jagged rocks that made up this mountain. He was still his partner, damn it, at least till they got the collar for these crazy whack jobs they were after.

"I'm here, Ray.  I dare say that tomorrow we shall take Muldoon into custody, and we'll need an early start to accomplish that, so it would be wise to get as much rest as possible now." Mountie talk. Translated that meant tomorrow they were going to half kill themselves to get to this wiseguy, this legendary palooka who supposedly was chased over some cliff by Fraser's old man, and who must have bounced like a bumble to have survived and thrived as an arms dealer.  Them getting some rest meant Ray needed some rest, because he wasn't doing so hot in the arctic survival business.  But he wouldn't let his partner down. He wouldn't.

There's red ships and green ships but there's no ship like partnerships.

Or friendships.

Fraser was the best partner and friend he'd ever had.  They'd almost broken up; Ray had hammered at his partner until the last polite barricade had broken, till the Mountie who could stand guard outside the consulate and not even twitch for hours no matter what some punk was doing to him, that same Mountie had stood out in public and argued with him, talked to him like he did Dief, and did Fraser not really understand that he was more himself, more open with Diefenbaker - a wolf - than he was with ninety-nine percent of the humans he talked to?

Ray didn't want to be one of the ninety-nine. He wanted to be the one. The one that Fraser didn't try to use his Mountie-ness to hide from, because he needed Fraser to be real with him.   Not that Fraser wasn't real, wasn't genuine, because he was. He was polite, and crazy, and waved his ethics like a flag on a fifty foot pole, but most people didn't look beyond that bright red uniform to see the man wearing it.

Fraser was the best at denying his own needs with that attitude of, 'I'm quite all right on my own; I can survive in the Canadian wilderness, so no need to trouble yourself with any feelings I have.'. Ray saw right through him.  Fraser could make him feel crazy, but he loved the guy. Hell, he trusted him with his life - he jumped on planes for him; he swam, well, kind of swam, through sinking ships for him -- but he needed for Fraser to surrender his trust to him, Ray Kowalski, too
.
Hunched together in the baby submarine, sweating like pigs, having escaped from drowning, and lost -- it had about killed Fraser to admit it, but he didn't know where they were in the ocean -- Ray had demanded that Fraser trust him. Trust his instincts.  Fraser had done it; he'd given control of their lives over to Ray. Now that was what partnership was all about - being mutual in the trust department.

It made him sad to think that his days of being Fraser's partner were numbered.

He felt too wound up when he thought about losing Fraser; he wished he could pace, move around, but he was all wrapped up, constrained. The best he could do was to move back and forth, making the hammock start to swing again.

"Ray. Stop."  He didn't.  He couldn't. It was like he needed to run away.  But he couldn't. "Ray, Ray, Ray!"  and Fraser's foot stopped Ray's hammock from swinging anymore. "Ray, I believe you are experiencing the beginning stages of hypothermia, since the consequences of tumbling out of that hammock have apparently escaped you.  You need to trust me when I tell you to be still, and go to sleep."

"I trust you, Fraser. I just got the jitters. I need to do something to make me less wired. Uh... so.  Praying always made me sleepy when I had to go to confession when I was a kid. 'Our Father, who art in heaven...' Oh, already said that one.  Okay, how about, 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake...'  Nah, that's kind of creepy.  Tell me a story or somethin'.  How you took down some poachers, or some old Inuit kind of thing."

"Ray, you're just mumbling. I don't know if you're making any sense to yourself, but the only word I caught was 'story.'  So perhaps...” Fraser trailed off for a minute and then said abruptly, “Yes, all right, of course I remember that story.  You only told it to me last week. Now, if you can keep from interrupting, I'll share it with my friend."

Ray wondered if the freezing temperature was starting to get to Fraser, too, because it sounded like Fraser was talking to an invisible friend, but then maybe Ray's brain had scrambled what Fraser had actually said.
"This is a story my father told me, Ray.  Stay very still, and listen... It seemed that one springtime, before I was born, that Buck Frobisher and my father had arranged to rendezvous at the end of March, only a couple of weeks from today's date, as it happens..."

Ray let his partner's words wash over him and he didn't try to make sense of the story. It was enough to follow along with the ups and downs, the hills and valleys, of Fraser's voice as Ray drifted off to sleep.

Xxx

His dreams were a kaleidoscope of faces and places, some that he had loved, and some that he still loved.  But in shedding his Vecchio skin, he'd outgrown his past. Now he didn't have a future.  He was stuck. He was lost. Then Fraser was lending him a hand, and he felt close to the Mountie.  Very close. So close it was like he was hugging him.  Except...

"Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Am I asleep or am I awake?"

"I propose you try a small test. Are your eyes open?"

Ray opened his eyes.  And held tightly to his partner. "Fraser, what the hell?"

"Ah.  Well, Ray, you are starting to sound more like yourself.  You've been in and out of things, so to speak, for a while. Quite out of your head, but then that's hypothermia for you."

He was cold. He was freezing his ass off, and he was... tied, strapped to Fraser, and something damn heavy was strapped to him, and -- he looked sideways and down, and then craned his neck to look up -- and he was still on a fucking mountain. He guessed it was the same one he'd been climbing yesterday, but he didn't know for sure.

He had thought he knew winter.  He was a born and bred son of the Windy City, and Chicago got tons of snow dumped on it every year.  He'd been dealing with snow since he was big enough to flop down and make a snow angel.

He didn't know anything about this kind of winter, this whiteness that was so bright that it hurt your eyes. The air here was forced down your throat by the wind and it tasted so clean, so pure. Chicago always trapped any snow that fell upon it. Turned it gray and pushed it aside.  Used salt as a weapon to melt it into slush. You breathed in air that made your tonsils freeze but also carried with it the flavor of the city - buses, cars, garbage.   But out here in this wilderness Fraser had thrown him into -- it was so different.

So beautiful and deadly and serious.

This struggle to beat Old Man Winter, it was so... personal.  Him and Fraser against this mountain. God, Fraser was strong. He was pulling Ray up, plus their supplies. Fraser was prepared for this, uh, terrain. He grew up doing this kind of stuff. Thinking about Fraser learning to handle arctic weather as he learned to walk and talk made Ray feel calm. Fraser knew how to make Old Man Winter give them a break.

He rested against Fraser's neck, let himself relax against his partner.  He yawned, and closed his eyes again.  He would just take a little nap, then he'd get back to climbing this huge, honkin' pile of rocks.  He'd never climbed a mountain before, and it occurred to him that he'd done a lot of things with Fraser that he'd never done before - stuff like Fraser teaching him to swim and showing him how to ice-fish, even if everybody and his brother knew there weren't no fish in the city reservoir.  He wondered what he could teach Fraser, and he flashed on how his pal had stepped stiffly from side to side when he was singing on stage that time. Fraser, he was a good singer, but he didn't let himself feel the music with his body.  Ray did.  Ray loved to dance, it made him feel good to waltz or trip the light fantastic.  Except he'd given up the one person who'd made his dancing a duet. He'd finally understood that he and Stella just didn't fit together anymore.

But he still loved dancing.

He wanted a partner to dance with him, to glide and dip and twist while the music built and built.   And slow dancing was the best, partners moving as one, hip to hip, heart to heart.

Yeah. He'd teach Fraser to really dance.

xxx

Ray's ma hadn't raised an idiot - he knew he was still on that honkin' big mountain, tied up to Fraser, snow blowing all around them, and halfway turned into a Polish flavored popsicle - so okay, maybe the jury was out on the idiot thing.

But he was still intent on capturing that guy who had killed Fraser's own ma.  Fraser would help him, if it had happened to Ray's mother. They were partners, weren't they?

Fraser kept climbing and Ray felt his own thoughts swirling away again, like water down a drain.

Words were drifting down to him, like big, fat snowflakes, and he opened his mouth to catch and taste them.  His eyes were shut, but he could hear Fraser talking and for a moment he thought he heard a voice answer him, but then there was just his Mountie's voice, alone, saying something about what should he do.

What should he do?  Fraser sounded kind of worried, but Ray would help him out.

He answered him, using the snowflake words he'd heard from a voice on the wind, and told Fraser to push on through the cold and the pain, and he explained to him about the Christmas colors of partnerships.

And nah, Ray wasn't blithering. Blithering. What a fuddy-duddy kind of Fraser word that was.  Ray started to chuckle, and he was still snorting a little when Fraser stopped climbing and he found himself unpacked on a wide ledge - because blithering, blathering, whatever, sounded so goofy. Like somethin' an old lady librarian would say to kids who were being too loud.  'Now stop that blithering over there. No blathering at the library is allowed.'

The wind had died down, and the sun was actually shining instead of hiding behind the clouds, and Fraser was busy, doing camping kind of stuff, and unpacking some shit. He watched him until he felt his eyelids become heavy again, but he took a look where this rest stop was - yeah, still got a ways to go before the top - and then he let those oh so heavy lids go down.

He didn't know how long he'd been out this time but when he woke up Fraser was talking to himself again.  Maybe the Mountie was coming down with that hypo-termination thing; he could have caught it from Ray. He opened his eyes and saw they were still safely sheltered on that ledge. He felt himself being shifted and found he was tucked up in that sled-crate thing, and Fraser was trying to wrap him up like a mummy. He caught at the strong, insistent hands that were laying a thick blanket around his shoulders, and squinted up, and he might be kind of loopy, okay, but he didn't miss the worry on Fraser's face.

“Fras'?  You 'kay, there old buddy, old pal?”  He watched Fraser smother that worry, made his face look all hearty-and-why-everything-is-just-fine, Ray.

He hated that look.  It always pissed him off.

Holding onto Fraser's hands, he frowned.  “Fraser, do not bullshit me. Partners do not bullshit each other.  Other people, sure, but not each other.”

Fraser rubbed his thumb against an eyebrow and sighed. “Understood. Well, since you've inquired I am managing quite well, and I believe that with some hot food, and the sun's radiant assistance, and sharing body heat, that you have an excellent chance at recovering from the fogginess hypothermia induces, and will hold your own on the last push to the summit.”

He squeezed Ray's hands before he slipped them from Ray's grasp, and added, “I'll have the provisions well heated in just a moment, Ray, and after we dine, well, we shall share the blankets and finish thawing you out.”

Ray watched Fraser dig this and that out of their supplies, and wha-d'ya-know, before Ray knew it he was gulping down some food and hot tea doctored up with something sweet. Fraser hadn't used Smarties like Ray used at home, but he didn't feel inclined to grumble about that, and he felt a warm glow in his belly. Fraser ate also, but of course, he didn't gulp his grub down.  He ate neatly, just like he wore his uniform, and here they were in the freakin' Canadian wilderness and Fraser had still managed to comb his hair.  Sometimes, Ray's hands felt itchy to just mess Fraser up- rumple him up and down.  The thought of running his hands through Fraser's hair and give him more of a Ray Vec- Kowalski look was rattling around in his brain, while Fraser neatened the supplies and then pulled him up so he was standing on his own two wobbly feet.

Ray steadied himself with one hand on Fraser's shoulder and the other hand gave into temptation and touched Fraser's dark, orderly hair. He'd meant to just swipe his hand around, like you'd do with a kid brother, but instead his gloved fingers slowly caressed and teased until the regulation Mountie hair looked soft and relaxed.  He peered behind Fraser's head... his friend had a cowlick sticking straight out, practically waving at Ray.  He touched it, then let his hand fall so that both of his hands were on Fraser's broad shoulders.

“I think my work here is done,”  Ray said solemnly, but it sounded more like 'tinker's lurk'n beer's fun.'  Crap.  What was wrong with his mouth?

“Yes, Ray.  You've done an excellent job of re-arranging my hair to suit you.”  Fraser had that snarky tone to his voice but was smiling at him, and Ray grinned back.  Fraser was the best.

“See, didn't that feel good to let your hair down?  I'm tellin' you that you got to relax more, Fraser.  And you should learn to dance.  I'll teach you, okay, cause no offense, but I've seen a broom handle move to music better than you do.”  And hey, he'd tried to e-nun-see-ate carefully, and he thought he sounded okay this time
.
Fraser nodded and moved him back a step or two, strong hands gripping his waist.  Ray started humming every bar band's favorite slow dance tune, and pulled Fraser closer to him. Fraser said, a little nervously, “Um, perhaps this isn't the best time,” but Ray wasn't letting go and he rocked his hips against Fraser's, who stiffened up like he was on guard duty before he murmured, “All right, Ray.”

They swayed together for a long, long moment, and Ray thought Fraser was maybe starting to get the hang of how two bodies could cling together and surrender to the music. This was nice, him and Fraser like this.

Suddenly, Fraser stopped and looked off to the side. Ray let the last notes of Stairway to Heaven die down in confusion as Fraser snapped out, “Of course I'm not going to take advantage of a man who's disorientated with hypothermia. You really don't think too highly of me, do you?”

“Yes I do, Fraser.  I think you're the highest.  And the best.  You're the best partner I ever wanted.” In response he felt Fraser tighten his arms around him, and he realized that Fraser was hugging him.  He hugged him back, feeling a little confused, wanting to teach Fraser to dance some more, to bend and sway against him again. But Fraser stepped to Ray's side and guided him over to the wooden sled they'd been hauling along. He grabbed the blankets that Ray had been using and pulled and tugged and arranged both of them so that they were sitting on the sled, blankets sheltering them.  Fraser was wrapped around Ray, arms circling him, thighs touching Ray's hips.  Hell, he was almost sitting in Fraser's lap. He was like, a bug in a Mountie cocoon.

“Fraser?  What is this, this stuff you're doing with me? It feels a lot - a lot, Fraser - like cuddling.”

“Well, yes, Ray, I suppose it does feel like cuddling. However, I'm doing it right now as first aid because you keep slipping into hypothermia and I'm afraid that your core body temperature needs to be raised a little more than it currently is.  Think of this as along the lines of the buddy breathing I performed on you when you were in dire need of extra oxygen.”  Ray could feel Fraser tighten his body around him at the mention of the time when Ray had almost drowned -  and learned to swim.  He'd learned to swim and Fraser had kissed him under the water and he hadn't known what to think about it afterward. Fraser had said that the touching he'd done with his mouth to share air hadn't changed things between them.

But Ray had thought about it a lot - usually after a six pack. He wondered if Fraser had ever done buddy breathing with other guys, and if he wanted Fraser to try it again with him.  Just not with him underwater, scared out of his mind that he was gonna be stuck in old Davy Jones' Locker.  Buddy breathing and hypowhatsit first aid.  Kissing and cuddling.  Tah-may-toe or tuh-mah-tow.

He decided to be cool about this first aid gig and let himself relax against Fraser's strong body. He thought about how Fraser had taken care of him when he was off in la-la land, how he'd carried Ray up this mountain.  He'd probably be dead by now, if Fraser hadn't been with him.  Of course, Fraser was the reason he was down here in the land of ice and snow - 'Look, Ray, turtles,' his sweet ass. But if Fraser hadn't pushed him out of the plane into the snow drifts, those other clowns would have kicked him out to land on the ice fields, where he'd have broken every bone in his skinny body.

Fraser was pretty impressive in Chicago, the way he could find stuff out, and the way he jumped out of windows, would ride on the roof of a flaming car, and generally act like a hero in his red coat and Stetson hat, although the tasting things found on the ground bit was disgusting.

He was beyond impressive up here, in this land of mountains and ice, and stars that never, ever shone down in Chicago.  He was special.  Ray didn't understand why the Canuks had ever let him leave.  He didn't know if Fraser would come back to Chicago, to stand watch at the consulate, and be the Ice Queen's right hand man and Ray Vecchio's partner, when this operation was over.   Fraser had been kind of homesick lately; he'd taken more and more to doing wintery, icy things and Ray had felt a growing concern for him, enough to keep tabs on him and sometimes even show up where he'd taken himself off to, like ice fishing on the City Reservoir.

He sighed, a long breath of confusion and doubt. His life was up in the air again since Vecchio had come home.  He guessed he could ask for another undercover assignment, but what he really wanted was to stay partners with Fraser.

“Ray, are you feeling... better?  Warmer?”  Fraser asked.

“Yeah. I think so. You're a heat-machine, buddy.  And the sun is helping.” Ray tilted his face up to better catch the sun's heat and closed his eyes to protect them. “Fraser?”

“Yes, Ray.”

“Did you ever do this first aid thing with anybody else, you know, the cuddling thing because of the cold?”

Fraser was silent a long time, so long that Ray had given up on hearing an answer and was dozing, the sunlight on his face a welcome warmth.  Hesitantly, Fraser began speaking, and his voice sounded distant, far away, nothing like the teasing tones he usually used to tell Ray stories around campfires.

“Once, many years ago, there was a woman who, for reasons that are unimportant at this time, had fled to Fortitude Pass.”

Ray interrupted him. “Fraser, is this one of your Inuit stories where there's a moral and everything?”

“It's not a story from the Inuit or any of the First Nations peoples; however, one could say that it's a cautionary tale.  May I continue, please?”

Ray murmured “Okay,” and listened to Fraser's voice as he continued with story-time.

“The weather was bitter, and a blizzard descended upon where she had taken refuge, and upon her tracker, who had sworn to find her and return her to civilization.  For she had transgressed, and there was a reckoning due, and he thought it his duty to both save her and condemn her.  He ended up losing almost everything during that blizzard - his pack, his heart, and his life.  But he saved the woman, found her almost frozen to death, warmed her with his body, her fingers in his mouth. They struggled together to survive, and while he gave her his warmth, she gifted him with her courage and spirit. She recited a poem through the worst of the storm, when he thought they would surely die. He held onto the words she spoke while death waited for them to surrender.   But they didn't give up, and it was the woman who had saved him after all, not the other way around.  They found the lost pack, after the blizzard had ceased, and the two of them scrambled like animals to stuff food into their mouths.  And they rutted like animals, desperate with the need to procreate, to pass on their genes, and as they came to understand that they had indeed survived, the rutting shifted into lovemaking, and he lost his heart to her.”

Fraser stopped, and after a moment, Ray gently asked him about what had happened then, because, damn, he'd done his homework on Vecchio and he thought he could put a name to this woman.

Fraser went on in a quiet voice. “He betrayed her. He took his lover in from the wild and brought her to civilization, and though she begged him to let her flee, to escape, he did his duty and she lost her freedom for ten years. He knew she would never forgive him, and that was the penance he accepted, to know that he loved someone who truly hated him. He barricaded his heart from any others who might open him to love.  It was a lonely way to live, but he had his duty to attend to, and he made do with that.  He had few friends, mostly those he'd known from childhood, and a father whom he both loved and resented. He didn't really find companionship until he came to Chicago, on the trail of his father's murderer. He never forgot her, though, or forgave himself for surrendering her to the authorities.”

“And she came looking for you, didn't she? I know who you're talking about -- I read through Vecchio's old cases, before I met up with you.  She tried to kill you, Fraser, and she tried to frame you and Vecchio for stealing the money from the bank job she pulled.  God, that must have been tough, to see her again.”

“Victoria.”  There was still a world of hurt in Fraser's voice when he said the bitch's name
.
“She was no good, Fraser.  In Vecchio's report, he said he shot at her to keep her from shooting you.  I know he got you by mistake, but he was trying to protect you, to protect his partner.  And she shot Dief, too, didn't she?  She didn't love you.  How could she have, and done those things to you?”

“My fault.  Entirely my fault because I regarded my duty higher than I did her. All those years in prison, thinking about what I'd done to her, it... it twisted her, and it was all because of my actions.”

Fraser thinking this line of crap was enough to make Ray's blood pressure hit the red zone. “Bullshit.  Did you make her rob a bank?  Be an accessory to murder? She was a bad apple, rotten to the core, and if she felt something for you, that she told you was love, it's because you maybe rubbed off on her a little, and she was grateful to you for saving her life.  But I bet she didn't like knowing you had rescued her, that she fucking owed you. She came after you for revenge, and she hurt you good, buddy. Tell me you got over her, that you're not still carrying a torch for her?"

Fraser tightened his arms around Ray and cleared his throat. "I had a long time to think over my actions, while I was in the hospital. And... she wanted me to come with her, when she was escaping, and I loved her, Ray, despite knowing everything she had done to me and my friend, and I jumped on that train -- to be with her; not to stop her. I do bear responsibility. I disgraced my uniform that day, and I know that bullet was a blessing in disguise, but sometimes, sometimes, Ray, I still wish I was with her and that the illusion that she cared about me was still in place. When we were together, I felt that she knew me, knew me, down to my very bones."

“No, she didn't, Fraser, if she thought you could abandon your partner and what was right without it killing you. You might have rode that train for a while but you'd have gotten off and brought her in. You being all confused like? It was the sex, probably. You ain't used to getting it much, and those pair-a-moans can really mess up a guy's thinking, I hear.”

“Well, Ray, it's true that pheromones are essential in nature's mating plans, but as I said, I must bear the responsibility of my actions, not blame them on sensory receptors. I did get on that train. I had longed for her to forgive me, and when it seemed she had... but I know now that if I'd gone with her, she would have tried to destroy my soul, not just my reputation.”

"Stella and I, we knew each other, like we shared the same soul. But we ended up hurting each other with what we knew, like ammunition in a war. We called a truce because we still loved each other, but we couldn't be with each other like that no more."

"Are you 'over' Stella, Ray?"

Ray thought about it for a moment. "I love Stella, I don't think I could ever stop with the love, but not like, not like I did. Not in-love kind of love. So, yeah.  I guess I am over her; I really am, Fraser."  He laughed then, feeling free, realizing it was true.

Fraser sighed.  "I'm not sure now if my feelings toward Victoria weren't influenced because of how we met, how we had to rely on each other for the chance to survive. Perhaps without those circumstances we wouldn't have been drawn to each other at all."

"Fraser, why'd you say this was a cautionary tale, what's that mean?  What are you cautioning about?"

"Well, er... Well that perhaps it's easier to lose your heart when you're holding someone close to you and their life is in your hands."

Ray narrowed his eyes.  "You worried that you might lose your heart to me, Fraser?  Because here I am, snuggled up with you, and I'd probably be frozen to death already if you weren't here to help me." He started to push away from Fraser, annoyed that he would think Ray was somebody he should be all anxious about - would think that he would turn on him like Victoria had done.

Fraser pulled him back against his front, preventing him from ending cuddle-time.  "Ray."  Just that, his name, and he had packed a world of meaning into those three little letters.

"Ray, I..."

"Look, Fraser. I know you.  I know you better than that Victoria ever did, and I'm your partner. You said, 'If you'll have me, Ray,' when I asked you if we were still partners, back in Chicago, and I'm having you, Fraser, even if you are from another planet. You know me, you know that I've got your back.  Me. Stanley Raymond Kowalski.  And you already love me, you moron. So, have we got this settled now? Cause I've never climbed a mountain all the way before, and I'm feeling like this is something I can do.  It's different, yeah, like maybe I've only had a passing acquaintanceship with a mountain before, just kind of felt around it, tried a few steps, but enough to know that I could really get to liking mountain climbing. I'm doing this with you, Fraser, because you're my partner and I trust you. I'm not interested in climbing mountains with anybody else. Trust me, too, will ya? And it'll be great teaching you to dance."

Fraser cleared his throat. "Well. Then, yes, Ray. Exploring... mountain climbing with you is something I'd be interested in, as well as improving my dancing. I do know the basics of a few steps, but I confess that I've never really felt comfortable dancing in the past. I look forward to your tutelage. Thank you kindly. Now, if you're feeling recovered, then perhaps we should push on. If you're ready, Ray."

Fraser yanked the blankets off of them, and gave Ray a helpful shove upwards, and Ray found himself standing. He turned and looked at his partner, who gave him a smile that made Ray want to try buddy breathing again, and then Fraser started to pull their supplies back together, busying himself with ropes and packs. He folded up the sled into a crate again, and hoisted it onto his own back. Fraser had told him two nights ago, when they'd been talking around the campfire, that he'd been an urban explorer back when he'd first come to the Windy City, but looking like that, he seemed every inch a real explorer, an adventurer.

Ray walked over to Fraser; his partner stopped gazing at the mountain and put his hand on Ray's back, and asked, Mountie-politeness overlying shy happiness,  "If you're ready, Ray,"

xxx

Ray'd had his moment of triumph, arms raised -- well not exactly high, but they were up in the air -- at the top of this mountain, his first one, and Fraser there with him, having pretty much shoved him over the last ledge and onto, thank God and the Virgin Mary, solid ground - and then he'd fucked it up. He'd lost it there for a few, which had been enough time for him to drop them right in the soup.

Fraser and him, stuck in the ice, and Fraser couldn't get them out.  But if he had to die, he at least was dying with somebody who loved him.  He knew Fraser loved him, had liked him from the first day they'd met, a crazy day what with driving Vecchio's flaming green car into Lake Michigan, and he'd hugged Fraser because Vecchio was the Mountie's friend. And now here they were, hip to hip, heart to heart, held tighter in this crack in the ice than a pair of lovers.

He wasn't afraid to face death; it wasn't his first time at that rodeo.  He felt oddly calm plastered up against Fraser, and the ice and snow surrounding him was cold, cold, cold.  And so beautiful.  He thought maybe he understood why Fraser had missed this, living here in this ice-land. At least if they died here, Fraser would rest in his own homeland, and Ray would be with him.  Probably it would be okay, to slide back into that fogginess and sleepiness as the cold took them both into the next life.  He wondered what it would be like to be dead.

"It's not so bad, you know, being dead. But it's not your time, Yank. Help is on its way."

Who had said that?  It wasn't Fraser's voice, and there wasn't anybody else here. Okay, he was probably losing his marbles.

Then Fraser had used Ray's gun and had shot up a red rag, to try and alert somebody, anybody, that they were there. One little splot of red in all of this big white brightness. They had about as much chance of rescue as him winning the lottery. But he still kept buying those lottery tickets, didn't he?

Still, Ray told Fraser that he didn't have any regrets, not really, but he wished he'd been able to have a real adventure, to do something interesting with his life before judgment day happened for him. With their legs tangled together, cold breath freezing on the air, Fraser explained about Franklin and his missing hand and sang for him . Damn, that would have been cool, him and Fraser being explorers together, finding this legendary hand, find where those explorers had lost their battle with the cold and the ice. He had told Fraser that if he did get out of this ice crack then he was going to have that real adventure and find Franklin's reaching hand.

And afterwards, when his lottery ticket was picked to be the grand-prize winner, when Fraser's old fourth grade chum had shown up and he realized that maybe he wasn't going to die today after all, he kept thinking all through being pulled free from the ice that he and Fraser really should go and find that hand, that missing hand of Franklin.

xxx

Fraser and Delmar had hauled him out of the huge crack in the ice, but his legs hadn't gotten the message that it was time to support his body; he kept falling back down in the snow while Fraser listened to his Grizzly Adams look-a-like buddy come up with the goods about the FOC's camp. Fraser had perked up when Delmar had said there were a bunch of Mounties at King's Creek.

He tried to keep on his feet, determined not to hold Fraser up, but it was difficult with the wind blowing harder than Welsh hollering at Frannie about the stupid cappuccino machine back at the good old station. 'Hey,” he kept telling himself, 'whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, so keep sucking it up. Fraser needs his partner.' And you need Fraser, a small voice was reminding him. Yeah, he told that voice. I know. But right now it shouldn't be about me, and even though Fraser's probably going to go back to being Vecchio's partner, right here, right now, he needs me. Not for survival stuff, but he's going after his mother's killer. He needs a friend to help him, even if he'd never admit it if he was asked. Which he's not going to be asked. I'm doing the telling. And I'm telling him that he's stuck with me, like dog shit on a shoe.

Delmar had wandered off, a big fur covered blob, camping gear clanging as it dangled from his pack. Fraser was converting the crate back into a sled. Ray watched as Fraser positioned the sled and sat down at the back of it. He indicated Ray should climb on. Ray looked at him and then he looked down the side of mountain, away from the deadly ice fields, but still... shit! Oh, shit! He and Fraser were going to... Oh, man. 'Whatever don't kill you makes you stronger,' he mumbled to himself, as he trudged over to where his partner was patiently waiting.

xxx

Ray held out his hands to the campfire, and nodded to one of the Mounties hanging around. Bundled up as they were in their red coats, it was kind of hard to tell who was who, although they had all been introduced to him after he and Fraser were done careening through their camp, yelling wildly as their out of control sled had mowed down tents and caused survival orientated Mounties to jump the hell out of their way. But he'd had no trouble recognizing the Ice Queen, although she didn't look exactly thrilled to be here. She didn't have that, 'I'm ecstatic to be freezing my behind off' look that Fraser had kept showing ever since they'd landed in the Territories.

Fraser returned from seeing to Dief and sat on one of the makeshift seats near him. Ray belched and patted his stomach. “Ya know, moose hock ain't so bad.”

“Sergeant Frobisher is quite fond of that particular cut, and I've read many references in my father's journals about the good sergeant's obsession with finding the perfect recipe and flavorings, but personally I've always thought that hunger was the best sauce for moose hock.”

“Well, I was pretty hungry. Being scared to death flying down a mountain on a sled and dodging pine trees before they get jammed up my ass does tend to increase my appetite.”

Fraser tried to show him a solemn face, but Ray knew he was fighting a laugh off, so he poked him in the ribs and grinned when Fraser started chuckling.

“It was fun, though, wasn't it, Ray?”

Ray nodded, and poked Fraser again; he knew there was that stupid grin on his own face, but, God, what a wild ride they'd had together. He'd do it again, if Fraser wanted him to.

They sat companionably together, staring at the fire, Ray jumping up every few minutes to poke at it and sometimes add wood, until his bladder started demanding some attention. He jerked his thumb to the designated latrine area - trust Mounties to have every camp detail organized - and Fraser's eyebrows rose slightly in comprehension.

“Understood, Ray.”

xxx

After he'd answered the call of nature, and wrote his name in the snow, he detoured over to where the dogs were kept, and slipped Dief some of the moose hock he'd saved for him. He spent some time going over some of the crazy shit he and Fraser had done over the last couple of days, and told Dief that riding on the wing of an airplane was not all that it was cracked up to be, and that Dief had been better off back at the consulate. Dief whined at him and Ray told him that they'd missed him, too.

“And do you miss Chicago, Yank?”

Ray spun around. He hadn't heard anybody clumping through the snow, but there stood an older guy - jeez he must be about Frobisher's age - in an old-fashioned looking parka. Ray didn't remember meeting him before, but the way his head had been spinning from the sled ride, he probably just didn't remember.

Ray shrugged. “You ever been there, to Chicago?”

“Quite a few times in the last several years. Can't say that I've really gotten around much once I'm there. I tend to stay put when I'm visiting family - my son and my daughter.” He pointed to a small campfire a distance from the tents and larger campfire. “I'd take it kindly if you'd join me, Yank.” Ray glanced back and saw that Fraser was deep in discussion with Frobisher. “Buck's bending Benton's ear right now, and once he gets started it takes him awhile to wind back down; Benton won't miss you yet, and I've some things to ask you.”

Ray guessed he could talk to this guy for awhile, so he followed him back to the small campfire where the Mountie lowered himself to a camping stool. Ray sat down next to him and held out his hands to the fire. “So, you want I should tell you about some great pizza places in Chicago? To take the family out to next time you go to see them? Giordano's Pizzeria and Nancy's Pizza are good if you like deep dish, and Rosati's Pizza is a favorite for thin crust.” He chuckled a little. “You want to know about decent pizza places you should always ask a cop.”

“Being up here in the Territories must be quite startling for you, being a city policeman. I suppose you can't wait to return back to Chicago.” The guy tilted his head and cracked his neck, and for some reason that made Ray twitchy. It was like that action didn't belong on that body.

“Uh... Say, what's your name again? Sorry, my brain was kind of shook up after Fraser and I did that crazy sled ride, and it's slipped my mind,” Ray admitted apologetically.

“Well, my mother called me Robert,” the man replied.

“Okay, Robert. Going back to Chicago... Nah, I'm not in a hurry. There's some things I'd like to do here, some uh, paths to explore, you might say. Say, do you know about Franklin? He disappeared looking for something important and nobody's ever found his hand. Or the rest of him, either. I'd like to look for that hand, the reaching hand.”

Robert looked him over, up and down, and said, “That'd be quite the adventure, Yank. One that could end up being deadly for you. Why, you might find yourself stuck in an ice crack, or freezing to death. I shouldn't think you could do it alone. Why don't you ask Benton to come along?”

“You know Fraser?”

“Since he was born, but it wasn't until he was a grown man that I really spent much time talking to him. Being a Mountie out here in the Territories meant I wasn't around much while he was a child.”

“You knew his mother, then? Finding out that Muldoon killed his mom has been tough on him. I came along to help him because he's my partner, well, at least until we catch this guy. After that, I don't know what will happen.”

Robert sat up straighter. “We'll get Muldoon. For Caroline. And Benton, well, I'd like to see Benton be happy. Chicago was an experience for him, but it was also an exile. One that I believe is ready to be lifted from him. Ask him what he wants, son. And whatever makes him happy is alright by me.” Robert stood then, and said, “Excuse me, but I believe I need to talk with Buck. Feel free to enjoy the fire for a while. Good luck, Yank.” He smiled then at Ray and turned and walked towards the camp.

Ray stared into the fire and thought about asking for what he wanted. If he was being honest with himself then he needed more than a partnership with Fraser. A lot of what he'd thought about while he was going in and out of things dozing on that mountain was kind of vague now, but he remembered wanting to teach Fraser to really dance, not just go through the motions of moving around. He knew that he wanted Fraser in his bed. He'd thought Fraser wanted him, too. But maybe he'd gotten it all wrong. Maybe Fraser had just been being kind to a guy who's brain was half frozen; maybe he didn't want Ray at all, as a partner or a lover.

He watched the blue and yellow flames throw miniature stars and galaxies into the night and dissected his love life. After he and Stella had broken up he'd tried to have sex without caring much about that woman or man, but it always quickly fell apart. Like that girl he took to Mexico - she dumped him for the guy selling ponchos, and he hadn't even cared.

He really hadn't loved many people, especially not romantic love. He'd loved Stella and since the age of thirteen she'd been his whole world, until the divorce - and even after the divorce.

Now he loved Fraser. Loved him because he was such a freak. Loved him because he was so good. Loved him because Ray could see into his heart, and because Fraser needed to be loved and taken care of, and he didn't even know it. But Ray knew it, and Ray wanted him. And yeah, Robert was right. Ray should ask Fraser what he wanted. As for him, he knew what he wanted. He wanted to stay partners with Fraser and he wanted to be lovers with Fraser and he wanted them to do something big together, to be explorers together. He wanted Fraser to join him to look for Franklin's hand.

So, he'd talk to Fraser. Kind of propose to him. Show him that Ray was serious about him. It would be good. They would be good together.

He tramped back to camp, and Frobisher greeted him as he sat down by the fire. “Ah, Detective Kowalski. Would you perhaps care for more moose hock?”

Ray waved him off. “Nah, I'm good. Been talking with this guy for a while...” He looked around but Robert wasn't in eyesight. “Uh, his campfire was back there.” Ray turned and pointed back to where he'd been, but the campfire wasn't visible. “Huh. He must have doubled back and put it out. He said he wanted to talk to you, Sergeant. I guess he'll find you later.”

xxx

Ray waited until he and Fraser were alone at the campfire to follow through with his resolution to ask for what he wanted. Well, he tried. But as he brought up the subject of partners, he was swamped with doubt that Fraser would chose him over Vecchio. Vecchio called Fraser 'Bennie.' It was cute, playful, intimate. All he ever called Fraser was 'Fraser.' Holy guacamole, he was going to ask this man to share his life and bed, and he never even called him by his first name.

So he'd kind of fumbled, and feeling hopeless, he decided to make it easy for Fraser to tell him that it was Vecchio's turn at bat about being partners. Vecchio was a good guy; he'd look out for Fraser.

Fraser had had that kindly tone in his voice when he'd said something about how his dad and Sergeant Frobisher had been partners even if they'd been separated by distance and time, but then, Ray told himself, those guys hadn't been lovers.

Maybe Fraser would have continued to let him down gently, but the Ice Queen made her presence known and she and Fraser walked away for a 'private' discussion.

When he saw her kiss Fraser, he'd had enough and walked around to the other side of the tents, and watched the stars till he thought it was safe to return to the campfire. Alone.

xxx

There was only one figure at the campfire when Ray angrily walked over and sat down on the other seat. At least all the howling was over. He didn't mind the dogs doing it so much, but Sergeant Frobisher's wolf imitation had made his ears want to bleed.

“I thought you'd be with the Ice Queen,” Ray said tightly.

“Inspector Thatcher has retired for the night. And we weren't finished with our conversation. I was hoping we could continue it,” Fraser replied mildly.

“I saw you guys. I always thought that the Ice Queen had the hots for you, so why are you hanging out here, waiting for me? Why aren't you in her tent? Afraid that she'll make you say 'sir' in bed?”

“Yes,” Fraser said simply, his eyes intent, and Ray couldn't seem to break that contact.

“What in hell does 'yes' mean?” With an effort, Ray turned away from Fraser, exploding up from his seat and darting over to the fire. He bent and tossed another log on the coals.

“It means that while the Inspector and I have shared some moments of attraction, that a relationship between us just wouldn't suit. She doesn't know me, Ray. She's never tried to know me, and I find that 'sir' is much easier to say than 'Meg' and I have no desire to have that kind of distance with a lover. She's putting in for a transfer to Toronto. I'm not.”

“That kiss...”

“Was a farewell kiss. Just a kiss to say goodbye, Ray.”

Ray felt another surge of anger and sadness and hurt and he couldn't just keep it all inside him. He kicked at the fire, sending a shower of sparks up into the night sky. “Who else you planning on giving goodbye kisses to, Fraser? Frannie?”

“Francesca is a lovely woman, but she has - I believe the term is a 'crush' - well, feelings that aren't based in reality. She doesn't know me either, Ray. She sees my uniform and doesn't see me. I do like her, but I'm not in love with her. I sincerely hope that someday she'll meet somebody and be happy with him.”

“And what about Vecchio? He knows you, Bennie. Are you going back to Chicago or are you staying up here?” Ray felt the anger draining away now, leaving only sadness and hurt. God, this was painful, like when Stella had given up on them, and told him they had to divorce. He knew his turn was coming up, that Fraser would say to him, oh so carefully, that he'd enjoyed being Ray's partner, but that it was time for him to again be Ray Vecchio's partner.

Or that he wasn't returning to Chicago, that he was staying in this winter wonderland, but that Ray Kowalski wasn't suited to be his partner up here. Oh, Fraser wouldn't be mean about it, and hell, Ray could see his point. Stanley Raymond Kowlaski's stupid panicky running off had caused them to fall into an ice crack. Crap, he couldn't blame Fraser for wanting to cut him loose, but without Fraser to anchor him, Ray wasn't sure who he would be anymore.

Being with Fraser made him feel real. Thinking of Fraser saying goodbye to him made him feel lost.

Lost and alone, and--

“Ray! Ray.” Fraser had gotten up and was right there next to him, staring into the fire, and bumping shoulders with him. Ray stepped away from him, determined not to let Fraser see what a pussy he was being. That wouldn't be fair to Fraser; he didn't want to make him feel guilty or anything for leaving Ray. Fraser was way too inclined to take on the weight of the world as it was.

“Ray Vecchio will always be a dear friend. And it's been good to see him again. But partners? No. I have a partner. You.” Ray felt his hand grasped tightly.

“You got to be very clear about this, Fraser, 'cause it's been a long day, and I know I've been kind of loopy from freezing my ass off earlier, maybe I'm not really understanding you. What do you want?” Ray addressed the fire, but he didn't let go of Fraser's hand.

“Understood. Well, err... I want us to be partners, Ray. I don't know how we'll work it out - stay here in the Territories, or return to Chicago. And, as I agreed upon the mountain today, I want you to be my dance partner, and, if I take your meaning correctly, and I certainly hope that I do, to do some mutual exploring of mountains.” Fraser sounded embarrassed and Ray got up the nerve to look at him. He was blushing, almost turning the same shade as his uniform tunic.

All of a sudden Ray felt a million times better and that lost feeling that had made him miserable for the last few days just evaporated. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something good to Fraser, something profound, but his mind had gone kind of blank. He heard himself mumble, “Yeah, okay, Fraser. We're good. And I think I'm done with Chicago. You want to stay here, I'll stay, too. And, and... Would you go with me, after we catch these clowns, to find that hand? You know, the reaching one?”

“I would be honored to do so, Ray.”

“And the mountain thing, uh, it would involve buddy breathing, only we're going to call it kissing, okay? And... lots of sharing body heat. Maybe we could do some of that later, in our tent?”

“I look forward to it, Ray.”

Ray gave a great sigh of relief. “Thank you kindly, Fraser.”

xxx

Epilogue

The night spent with Fraser had resulted in several changes between the two partners. For one, Ray found out that Fraser really was a great explorer, and for two, that Fraser's talent at licking stuff at last could be appreciated. And that Ben wasn't a name that was hard to say after all.

It had been great fun to mess Fraser up, to make him squirm and sigh and relax into being Ben, his lover. He was glad that he'd been able to do this for his partner, since they would be confronting his mother's killer today. Ben... Fraser... had been pretty tightly wound up, like a spring. But he'd made that spring uncoil, and Fraser had needed that.

Fraser was seeing to Dief, feeding him tallow, and Ray was drinking coffee when Robert sat down next to him at the campfire.
“Hello, Yank.”

“Yeah, uh, hi. You ever catch up to Sergeant Frobisher?”

“I plan to this morning. And did you get things straightened out with Benton?”

“We talked.” And did a whole lot more of other stuff, but the guy didn't need to know that.

“And will you be staying then, with Benton?” This guy was kind of nosy, but Ray didn't mind answering the question. He figured he'd be saying it to a lot of people in the near future..

“Yeah, after we close this case, we're staying. He's my partner. We're going to search for the hand of Franklin - be explorers for a while.”

“Well then, Raymond, welcome to Canada.” They shook hands and Robert wandered off. Ray was reaching for the coffee pot when he heard Robert call to him. He turned and nodded. He wasn't sure he'd heard the guy right. Did he say, “Take care, son” or “Take care of my son?” He shrugged to himself and poured a second cup of coffee, and settled for drinking it black.

“Talking to yourself, Detective Kowalski?” Great. Turnbull. Well, as long as they kept away from the topic of curling they should get along okay.

“No, I was talking to Robert. Older guy, friend of Sergeant Frobisher.”

Turnbull stared at him. “There wasn't anybody with you. Are you sure you're quite recovered from the hypothermia you experienced yesterday?”

Ray eyed him, wondering if Turnbull had lost a few marbles. He looked pretty much like he always did - tall, neat, with a wacky look on his face. Whatever. “I''m fine.”

Turnbull cast one more suspicious look his way, and then left. Fraser returned and accepted the cup of coffee Ray passed to him. “What's disturbed Turnbull, Ray?”

“Ah, he thought I was talking to myself; I wasn't. I was talking to this guy named Robert.”

Fraser choked on the coffee, and Ray pounded him on the back until Fraser could speak again, in a somewhat wheezy tone of voice.

“And did he inquire about me?” Ray nodded. “Oh, dear.” Fraser cracked his neck, and Ray had a deja-voodoo moment, because it was like watching an echo; Robert had done that the same exact way.

“You do know him, right? He said he knew you better as an adult than as a kid.”

“Oh, that's very true, Ray, very true. And I promise I'll explain about him. But not today. When we're on our way to find the hand of Franklin, I'll tell you about him then.”

Ray put his arm around Fraser's shoulder. “Okay. Partner.”

xxx

Fraser kept that promise. After Muldoon and those crazy wanna-be terrorists, the FOC, were in custody, and Ray had sent a message to Welsh through the RMCP that he was resigning from the Chicago PD, they had left on their quest.

That first night they sat together on the dog sled, near the fire, and Fraser explained about what he'd seen at the bottom of the mine shaft he and Muldoon had fallen into after securing the submarine; how his father's ghost had visited him in Chicago and that only his father's partner and family members - him and his half-sister -- had been able to see Robert Fraser. He told Ray in a quiet voice that he didn't expect his father to return, since his mother had come for her husband in that broken mine and they'd disappeared into the light.

“So why he'd talk to me?” Ray asked.

“I suspect he was curious about you. After all, you came up here to Canada to help track my mother's killer. And he knew that we were partners. Maybe he could tell that I cared about you and he wanted to meet you.”

“Well, as far as meeting in-laws go, it was a lot more successful than when I met Stella's parents.” Ray grimaced at that memory.

“You're taking learning that you've talked with a ghost extremely well, Ray.”

“Ben, ever since I met you, I've dealt with nutty every day. I've grown to like it.” He stood up and pulled Ben up beside him. “It's cold. I may be in need of some more hypothermia first aid. And we should practice that buddy breathing, don't ya think?”

Fraser smiled, warm and loving, making Ray feel content.

“Understood.”

The End.





















Laurie