Fic - Due South - "Through the Looking Glass" (1/4) - RayK/Fraser, RayK/human!Dief [mature]

[tres_mechante]

Title: Through the Looking Glass
Author: tres_mechante
Fandom: Due South
Pairing/character: Ray Kowalski/Benton Fraser, Ray Kowalski/human!Diefenbaker
Rating: FRM (Mature)
Word Count: 30,850 approx.
Kink: magic/supernatural elements; first time; angst; flirtation; seduction; mind fuck
Notes/Warnings: magic; language; angst; character death(temporary!); animal-to-human transformation; vampire; male/male sex (not graphic); first times; violence; developing feelings; disturbing images (nightmares); crackishness

Thank you to the ficfinishing gang, who cheered me on to greater word counts.
Many thanks to cincoflex and vr_trakowski who encouraged me every step of the way.
Very special thanks to mizface, my First Reader, who read the story as it was being written (warts and all), offered thoughts, asked questions, gently pointed out the inconsistancies/errors, and encouraged me to keep going simply by asking “More please?”

Summary: Ray’s life has taken a turn for the strange, what with a gruesome murder, creepy witnesses, the woodland version of Hotel California, and a squirrel with attitude. But then along comes some guy claiming to be Diefenbaker and that's when things get weird.

Artist:sly_fuck Thank you for the art!





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Part One

An annoying droning sound pierced the silence - and his skull. Ray groaned and fumbled his way out of the twisted mess of blankets and pillows, desperate to kill whatever had dragged him out of a sound sleep.

He started to roll over toward the noise but was blocked by a large warm body. "Oh, man. Get that would ya."

The body refused to move, just grunted, groaned and settled more comfortably on the bed. Ray crawled over his bedmate and slapped at the alarm clock before falling back onto his side of the bed. He hoped like hell he hit the snooze rather than the off button or the boss was going to be pissed.

"I hate mornings," he said, closing his eyes.

The next time he woke, it was to the sensation of being watched. Ray carefully opened his eyes. A pair of golden brown eyes stared back at him. "What time is it?" he asked Diefenbaker.

Dief yipped and jumped off the bed just as the alarm clock buzzed.

"Thanks," muttered Ray, reaching to shut off the clock before rolling off the bed entirely. He pulled on a pair of jeans and stuffed his feet into a pair of runners and shuffled to the bathroom. He stopped when Dief whined pitifully. "Hey, you get caught taking a wiz outside, no one says anything. I get caught doing it and I'll be busted back to traffic detail."

Dief made a rumbling noise in his throat.

"Yeah, okay. Vecchio gets busted to traffic, but I'm the one who's going to have to wear a uniform and write the damn tickets, so just cross your legs and I'll be right with you." Ray pushed the door closed behind him out of habit, but called out, "You know, this would be a lot easier if you learned to use the john."

The sound of frantic scratching on the apartment door was the only response.

The weather was a little nippy, and Ray wished he'd taken a moment to grab a shirt to put under his jacket, but otherwise it was a beautiful morning. Or it would be once the sun came out.

After Dief had taken care of business, the two of them wandered over to the bakery for breakfast. Fraser would have a fit, of course, but since he was safely somewhere in Canada at a conference-training-educational opportunity thing, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

Back at the apartment, Ray hit the shower while Dief pretended to eat the nutritionally balanced food Fraser had left for him.

"So, what's your preference? You wanna stay here today or come in to the precinct with me?" Ray asked the wolf as he got ready to leave.

Dief went to stand by the door, tail wagging. "You’re just a glutton for punishment, aren’t ya?"

"Vecchio! Get in here, now!"

Ray and Dief both groaned when Welsh greeted them with that summons. Dief went to hide under Ray's desk, and since there was no room for Ray, Ray went to see what his lieutenant wanted.

"Shut the door," said Welsh. "The Mountie still away?"

"Yeah. He's got another couple of weeks until finals." Ray shifted nervously while he waited.

Welsh fiddled with a folder before seeming to come to a decision. He handed the folder over to Ray. "Sit down before you look at that."

Ray shrugged and obediently sat. He was glad to be sitting when he saw the contents.

"God," he breathed. He'd seen his share of murder victims, some looking almost peaceful, others pretty much in pieces. This, however, was like nothing he'd seen before. Carefully sifting through the file's contents, he realized the photos were several years old, and there was a typed sheet attached to each photo identifying the date, location of the body and the name of the investigating officers.

"There's been a string of these over the last 40 years or so. Never the same place, and always lots of time in between, so there's never been a pattern to find."

Ray frowned. "Until now, obviously. Who put it together?"

Welsh looked uncomfortable. "That's the problem. We don't know." He indicated the file. "That was dropped off a few days ago - at the police chief's house. As you can imagine, he was not happy."

Ray could understand that. He certainly wouldn't want something like this showing up at his home, either.

"Someone have a guilty conscience, maybe?" ventured Ray.

Welsh sighed. "If only." He handed an evidence bag with a calendar page inside. A date was circled in rust coloured ink. Something clicked in Ray's mind.

"That's not ink, is it?" He frowned. "Wait, that was yesterday. Has anyone reported finding a body looking like any of these?"

"Not yet, but all precincts are on notice. If there's a call, it'll be routed here and you'll take lead."

Ray was surprised. "Me? But...why?"

"As much as I dislike your methods, detective, you get results; especially when you and that Mountie put your heads together. And even if he isn't here, you're damn good at what you do." Welsh fixed him with a fierce glare. "And that portion of the conversation never happened."

"Got it," said Ray, smiling slightly at the unofficial praise. He sobered when he looked back at the file. "I guess I better go through this." Welsh indicated the meeting was over and Ray went back to his desk.

When Ray pulled out his chair, Diefenbaker poked his head out. Ray absently patted the wolf’s head as he sat down. “You’re probably going to wish you’d stayed home,” he said. “This is going to be so far beyond ugly even Fraser wouldn’t be able to find the words.”

Dief grumbled quietly and rested his head on Ray’s knee in sympathy. Ray let his hand stroke Dief’s head, unconsciously seeking comfort while he looked through the grisly crime scene photos.

Ray stumbled in the door, exhausted beyond anything he could remember feeling in a long, long time.

"Take the food in the kitchen and put it on the table would ya? And no snacking!" he called after Dief, who trotted into the kitchen carrying take-out bags in his mouth. "Jeez, what a week."

Ray tossed his notes on a nearby chair and peeled out of his jacket, tossing it over another chair on his way to the kitchen. He poured fresh water in Diefenbaker's water dish, giving him a quick rub behind the ears when he was done. "Thanks, buddy."

Ray and Dief had no sooner settled down to their dinner - "Don't you dare tell Fraser about this" - when the phone rang. He snatched up the receiver. "What?"

"Hello to you as well, Ray."

"Oh, hey Fraser." Ray felt himself relax. These chats with Fraser always seemed to help him shake off the day. Not that he’d ever say that out loud. Ever.

"Have I called at an inopportune time?" asked Fraser. "I could call back."

"Don't be stupid. We just got in is all." Ray forked up another large helping. "Hsrytggng?"

"Hello? Hello? Ray? There seems to be some interference on the line."

Ray quickly swallowed. "I said, how are things going? You write those exams, yet?"

"Yes, actually, I finished the last one this afternoon."

"And you did well, of course."

"Of course." Fraser cleared his throat. "That is, I believe so, anyway. The results won’t be available until Monday afternoon, or perhaps Tuesday morning."

"Right. So when're you coming home again?"

"My flight is booked for Tuesday afternoon." A deep sigh came over the line. "I never thought I would hear myself say this, but I find myself looking forward to returning to Chicago."

Ray set his empty plate aside and settled back on the sofa with his legs propped on the coffee table. "I kinda thought you'd be glad to be spending so much time in The Great White North."

"Well, technically, it's more brown and gray than white, and it's not really all that far north, although I suppose that in comparison with Chicago this would be considered north." Fraser paused, and then said in a hesitant voice, "And really, it hasn't been all that great."

The beer bottle paused halfway to Ray's mouth. That did not sound much like his look-on-the-sunny-side buddy. "Uh, Frase? Everything okay? I thought the courses and stuff was like this amazing opportunity - leastways that's what you've been saying."

"Oh, it is, Ray. This has been the most insightful and challenging program - and interacting with so many others involved in personal and professional development in law enforcement has been...stimulating."

"Stimulating. Right." Ray was quiet, not quite sure what to say, and finally settled on, “That’s good, buddy. Glad you’ve been getting something out of it.”

Fraser started to say, “Ray...” but never finished his sentence. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I trust Diefenbaker has been no trouble.”

“Nope. As far as roommates go, he’s pretty agreeable,” said Ray. “We’ve been getting along real good.”

“That’s good, Ray. I was concerned that he may have been something of an inconvenience.”

“Nope. Not an inconvenience. Actually, I’ve kinda gotten used to having the fur ball around.”

“His appetite’s been good? Sometimes he gets finicky about food when his routine is disrupted.”

“Nope. He’s eating okay. I guess he considers me part of his routine,” said Ray, leaning forward to slip another meatball on Dief’s plate.

“Uh, Ray, you are feeding him the food I left, right? No slipping him junk food?”

“Fraser, I’m hurt. Would I do a thing like that - especially after you gave such detailed instructions?”

“Well...”

“Don’t answer.”

There was silence on the line, broken only by a bit of static and the sound of breathing. It was Ray who spoke first.

“What time’s your flight? If I’m not tied up on a case I can come get you.”

“Ah. I appreciate the offer, but I have already accepted Const. Turnbull’s offer of a lift from the airport.”

“Oh, sure. That’s good, Frase. Give me a call when you get settled back in and we’ll do the wolf handoff.” Ray hesitated. “So, see you in a few days, huh?”

“Of course, Ray. Please convey to Diefenbaker that I am looking forward to seeing him again.”

“Consider it done. Night, Frase.”

“Goodnight, Ray.”

Ray hung up the phone, put the bottle on the floor and flopped back. He felt utterly drained. Much as he enjoyed the daily - nightly - calls from Fraser, sometimes they left him feeling a bit out of sorts, but damned if he knew why.

Ray reluctantly got up and cleared away the remnants of their meal. Dief nosed the food in his dish, took a bite, and spit it back out, almost emptying his water dish immediately afterward.

Ray laughed at Dief’s antics, but still chided, “You know he means well, right? Being a pain in the ass about stuff like that is how he shows he cares.”

Dief grumbled and flopped down on the floor, but out of Ray’s way. Ray continued to talk to the wolf, never stopping to think that talking to a supposedly deaf wolf might not make any sense.

Ray was still going on about the day’s events when he finally flopped down on the sofa and put feet back up on the coffee table. He grabbed the television remote and began flipping through stations while Dief made himself at home on the sofa beside him.

Dief suddenly whined and reached to paw the remote. Ray looked at him in surprise. “What? You see something you want to watch? I’m warning you, thought, if it’s that damn curling we aren’t watching unless you start paying the bills.” However, he dutifully went back a few channels to see what had caught Dief’s attention.

“Ahwoo!”

Ray paused when Dief howled, and looked at the screen. It was an old movie - a Lassie movie if he wasn’t mistaken. Huh. Ray grinned as Dief gave his full attention to the television.

Unable to resist, Ray leaned over and spoke in Dief’s ear, “You do realize that she’s a he, right?”

Dief looked up, a furrow of confusion crinkling his face.

“Sorry, pal, but that pretty girl with the flowing fur is just a guy in drag.” Ray patted Dief’s side sympathetically. “I’m serious. I read somewhere that male dogs look better in summer or something than the females so they always used a male.”

Dief sighed, leaned back against Ray, and thumped his tail a few times on the cushion.

Ray looked down at Dief in surprise. “Huh. Wolves play both sides of the fence - who knew? Does Fraser know about this?” He grinned when Dief seemed to sag against him. “Well, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I mean, it’s not like I’m in a position to judge or anything.”

Dief twisted to look up at Ray.

“Yeah, I look. Not like I’m gonna do anything about it, ‘cause you know, a queer cop’s a dead cop. But I’m, well, I’m not unaware of the charms of that waiter at Lucia’s, or that banker guy near the station who slips you sushi when we eat at the park, or for that matter, freakin’ Mounties who’re laced up tighter than my aunt Irene’s corset.”

An inquiring whine from Dief had Ray looking down with a frown.

“You know damn well I wasn’t talkin’ about Turnbull. Not that he’s not easy on the eyes or --” Ray suddenly glared at Dief. “And if you ever - and I mean ever! - tell Fraser any of this I will personally take you in to be fixed.”

An indignant yip was the response.

“Just so we understand each other. Now shut up and watch the movie.”

Man and wolf settled more comfortably into what had become their usual position: Ray sprawled against the back of the sofa, with Dief reclining against him, his head resting over Ray’s heart. Ray was never sure whether Dief actually listened to his heartbeat or simply felt the vibration. It didn’t matter. Ray rested his hand against Dief’s neck, occasionally petting or scratching through the evening. They were both content.

Ray would rather cheer Toronto in the World Series than admit how much he had come to enjoy Diefenbaker’s company. He finally got it, Fraser’s habit of talking to the wolf, carrying on as if there was actually a real conversation going on.

Ray often found himself doing the same thing, asking Dief’s opinion about something or responding to a comment supposedly made by the wolf. This, of course, made for a certain level of amusement down at the 2-7. Which bothered Ray not at all since, officially, it was Vecchio who was the nutcase.

No one had even heard of Ray Kowalski. And wasn’t that just a depressing thought.

When the call came in, it was almost a relief. Days of going through the cold case files of old murders had left Ray twitchy - he hated sorting through files. Oh, he went out on other calls, but this case was his primary concern. With Francesca’s grudging help, all the relevant files had been transferred to the 2-7 and his desk. Unfortunately, all the second hand accounts and long-gone crime scenes just left him spinning his wheels.

At 3:30 Tuesday morning, the phone rang. A body had been found just outside the city limits. It matched the crime scene photos of the other unsolved cases.

Dressed, armed and heading out the door, Ray called out, “Let’s roll, partner.” It never occurred to him to leave Dief behind.

The crime scene was far from fresh. In fact, Ray had a feeling that it wasn’t the actual crime scene. There just wasn’t enough blood and guts to go with the amount of carnage inflicted on the body.

Ray and Dief stayed at the scene while the crime scene guys did their thing and then they began the process of trying to figure out the victim’s identity. Ray did not envy the coroner; there really didn’t seem to be enough left for a decent autopsy.

It was after eight that night by the time Ray and Dief dragged themselves home. They had been too tired to stop for food, and were undecided whether they could stay awake long enough to order out.

“Hello, Ray.”

Ray looked around and spotted a familiar figure lounging against the wall.

“Fraser! Hey buddy, you’re back.” He quickly approached his friend and gave him a big hug, complete with back slapping, before pulling back to allow Dief to say hello.

“I hope it’s not too late for a visit,” said Fraser, ruffling Diefenbaker’s fur. “When I called here and got no answer, I contacted the precinct and was told that you had left sometime after seven o’clock.”

Fraser straightened up, reaching for the bags at his feet. “I took a chance that you may not have had time for a proper meal...”

Ray smiled, the first real one of the day. “Jeez, Frase, you must some kind of sidekick, because we barely had time to piss never mind eat.”

“I’m sure you mean psychic, Ray, but I make no claim to any precognitive abilities. However, I do know what you are like when immersed in a case.”

Ray opened the door and waved his friend inside, ignoring the correction as always. “Right now, I’d fight Dief here for what’s in his dish.”

Dief playfully nipped at Ray’s jeans as he walked by.

Fraser watched the byplay with a raised eyebrow. “It would appear the two of you have been getting along in my absence,” he said. “I admit to having had some concern about the arrangement when I left.”

“Nah, me and the wolf, we came to an understanding pretty quick. Right, buddy?”

Dief snorted and preceded them into the kitchen.

Fraser just smiled uncertainly and placed the bags on the counter. He pulled out an assortment of takeaway containers while Ray set out three plates and some cutlery.

“No, Ray. Diefenbaker has --”

“Diefenbaker has had the same shitty day as me and he gets to have the good stuff tonight.” Ray gave Fraser a hard look. “We caught a hell of a case and if the body smelled bad to me, what do you think he went through? I promised him something good and that’s what he’s gonna get.”

“As you wish,” said Fraser, his manner suddenly formal.

“Ah, Frase, don’t be like that. I’m sorry, it’s just...this case is all kinds of fucked, pardon my French - and I know that wasn’t French, so just shut it.” Ray bowed his head, closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Look, I’ve been at this since three this morning, so I’m a little, whatchamacallit, testy.”

Ray felt something cold touch his neck. He jerked in shock but grinned when he saw Fraser holding a cold beer. Fraser was smiling slightly, clearly forgiving Ray’s mood.

“I picked this up on the way over. I had a feeling you might appreciate this.” Fraser’s lips twitched. “Perhaps I am a sidekick after all.”

Ray took the bottle gratefully. “I believe you mean psychic, Benton. Although, I think you’d make a fine sidekick, as well.”

Dief warbled a complaint at the human antics and demanded to be fed. The food, which turned out to be from Lucia’s, was piled onto the plates and brought into the living room. Fraser frowned but held his tongue when Dief’s plate was brought in as well.

The meal was a silent affair. It wasn’t until they were finished and the plates were scraped - or licked - clean, and Fraser brought Ray another beer that Ray began to describe the case, which seemed to span several decades.

Fraser frowned. “It sounds like animal attacks,” he said. “I remember, back in my youth in the Arctic, there being a case of small animals being torn apart.”

Ray, who had relaxed against the back of the sofa, rolled his head to look at Fraser. “I don’t think we’re dealing with a pack of wolves or a rabid bear here,” he said, too tired to tease his friend about starting yet another Inuit story.

Fraser leaned back as well, his eyes focused on the glass in his hand. “No, that’s not what I was getting at. The elders in one of the villages I’d visited would sometimes whisper about a, well, a creature that was more than animal and less than human.”

“What? You mean like a werewolf or something?”

“There really is no adequate translation for the name. Besides, I must confess that I never really heard it clearly; even saying it was thought to bring its wrath upon the speaker.”

“Huh.” Ray drained his beer. “I’m not sure I’d want to try putting out an APB on that.”

“Well, there is that,” agreed Fraser, taking the empty bottle from Ray. “Do...do you want another?”

“Yeah, okay. Just one more, then I’ll call it a night.” He yawned. “Coroner thinks he might have an ID on the vic sometime tomorrow. The guy had a pacemaker tangled up in what was left of his heart. The serial number should give us something.”

When Fraser returned with the beer for Ray and more water for himself, he found his place on the sofa usurped.

Ray was where he had left him, but Dief was on the sofa draped over Ray, head on his chest. Ray had a hand in Dief’s ruff and was gently running fingers through the fur.

Ray looked at Fraser standing a little ways away, watching them. Ray frowned slightly at the expression on his friend’s face. He looked, not lonely, exactly, but maybe kind of wistful. Making a quick decision, Ray patted Dief on the rump and told him to shift over.

Dief grumbled but did as he was told.

Ray patted the seat beside him. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you, kindly, Ray, but I believe I have imposed on your hospitality enough for tonight.”

“Don’t be an ass,” said Ray. “Just park it. We haven’t seen each other in weeks. I mean, it’s not like you’re just a casual acquaintance or anything.”

Fraser sat.

Ray handed him the remote. “Pick what you want. Believe me, that’s a limited time offer. I’m just too tired to make a decision.”

“You are most generous,” said Fraser, smiling shyly.

“And don’t you forget it.”

Ray closed his eyes, and opened them again more than three hours later. The lights were low, the television was droning on about the wonders of some kind of cleanser, and he was being smothered.

Ray discovered he was still on the sofa, but was leaning against Fraser’s chest, in much the same way Dief usually leaned on his. Dief was sprawled across both Ray and Fraser’s laps and Fraser had his arms around both Ray and Dief. This probably looked like one of those cute snugly puppy-pile things to an outsider, but it was uncomfortable as hell.

Shifting slightly, he poked Diefenbaker, who grumbled but eased off the humans with a well-placed hind foot to the Ray’s groin. Ray barely smothered his yelp at the sudden pain.

Strangely, Fraser did not react to the movement. However, he did follow Ray’s lead when Ray shifted off the sofa and gently manoeuvred Fraser until he was stretched out on the sofa. Ray pulled the afghan off one of the side chairs and covered his friend.

“You should stay with him,” Ray told Dief. “I think he missed you.”

Dief curled up on the floor beside the sofa. Ray turned off the light, whispering “G’night, Ben,” before heading off to bed. He didn’t see veiled blue eyes watching his movements, or hear the whispered “Goodnight, Ray.”

Walking into the bullpen, Ray was greeting with “Vecchio!”

Ray glanced at his desk. Without Dief around, there was plenty of room for him to hide.

“Now!”

Ray sighed and went to see what the lieutenant wanted.

“Shut the door.”

Ray shut the door and sat without waiting for an invitation.

Welsh stared at his detective. “The Mountie back yet?”

“Yeah. He got in last night. He said something about dropping in later this morning.”

Welsh nodded. “Good. When he gets here, you can follow up on the body we found yesterday.”

Ray leaned forward. “We got an ID?”

“Yeah. That’s why I want you to wait for Constable Fraser.”

“The vic was Canadian?”

Welsh handed over a report. “One Elias Shritt Bell, 56. He moved to Chicago to take over operations of a company 10 years ago. Decided to retire three years ago and dropped off the grid. No one’s seen hide or hair of him since.”

“Until yesterday,” said Ray.

“Until yesterday,” agreed Welsh.

“He got family?”

“Not that we’ve been able to find. But a request with RCMP in Ontario has been made.” Welsh frowned. “Forensics went over what was left of Mr. Bell’s shoe and found something tucked inside the lining. I’m wondering if there will be a problem with this.”

Ray took the plastic bag from Welsh. “Well, crap.” He stared at the food voucher from an inner city homeless shelter.

“Exactly. According to your jacket, you were undercover there for a couple of months. Will you be recognized if you go back now? And be honest - it’s not just your cover that could be blown here.”

“That was, uh, maybe five years ago, and I had long red hair then.” Ray shrugged. “There shouldn’t be a problem. Different hair and clothes now, and I’ll be there as a cop not a bum. I think it’ll be okay.”

Welsh thought about it. “Yeah. Okay. Wait for Constable Fraser to head out. Since it was a Canadian citizen that died, he can represent their interests.” With that, Welsh dismissed Ray.

When Fraser and Diefenbaker wandered in near noon, Ray ushered them back out for lunch and a quick briefing.

They wandered through the park, munching fries and hotdogs -

“Honestly, Ray, do you have any idea what’s in these?”

“I don’t care and if you try to tell me I’ll kick you in the head.”

“Understood.”

- and going over what little was known about the latest victim and the similarities to previous murders. At one point they passed a man in a suit and tie who smiled at them. Diefenbaker wagged his tail and huffed out a greeting, and Ray smiled back but shook his head slightly. The man’s smile faded but he walked on without saying anything.

Fraser did the eyebrow scratch thing. “Ray, if I might ask, who--”

Ray looked at his watch and cut him off saying, “Oh, hey, look at the time. We better get over to the shelter. The director said he’d only be available until 2:30.”

The more things change, the more they stay the same, thought Ray. The shelter hadn’t changed since his gig there five years earlier; sadly, neither had most of the guests.

When they arrived, Fraser had started to comment on Ray’s familiarity with the place, but Ray shushed him with a promise to explain later.

Ray stepped forward to greet John Iverson, the shelter’s director. The man reminded Ray more than a little of Mr. Rogers, right down to the cardigan.

“I’m afraid that once he started coming here, I actually had very little interaction with him,” he said as they settled in his office. “It was part of the agreement to protect his anonymity.”

Ray nodded encouragingly. “Anything you can tell us would be helpful, Mr. Iverson.”

“Elias approached me about a donation roughly six months ago, but, he wanted to specify how the money was to be allocated.”

Fraser frowned. “Isn’t that a bit unusual?”

“Not at all. Most donations just go to general coffers, but there are people who prefer to donate to the soup kitchen, or to provide a change of clothes. There is even a group of teachers who fund basic literacy classes.” Iverson shrugged. “Given the amount Elias wanted to donate, I saw no problem with letting him express his wishes.”

“If I may inquire, how much was he offering the shelter?” asked Fraser.

“Depending on his findings, upwards of $100,000.”

Ray sat up straight. “A hundred grand? Whoa. That’s...wow.”

Iverson nodded. “We don’t get much by way of funding and a donation of, say, a thousand dollars, is considered a huge windfall.”

Fraser frowned in thought. “What kind of findings?”

“Excuse me?” asked Iverson.

“You said ‘depending on his findings’. Had he hired someone to investigate the shelter?” asked Fraser.

“Oh, no nothing like that. Elias was living here, using the services - all undercover, of course.” Iverson smiled. “He liked taking a hands-on approach. He said the only way to really know what was needed was to, well, actually be someone who needed the service.”

Fraser nodded. “I see.”

Ray frowned. “Well, I don’t. Look, I’m not doubting you, but this guy was off the grid - no one had seen or heard from him for a few years. And there was no activity on his bank accounts or credit cards.” Ray shrugged. “You get my confusion, right?”

“Well, yes. But my understanding is that he had accounts set up for this. I’d checked him out, and a couple of other places knew him. Apparently he’d done this before.” Iverson opened a file drawer and started rifling through the folders. “I’ll give you the contact information for the other places.”

“Thank you, kindly,” said Fraser. “That would be most helpful.”

When they prepared to leave, Ray hesitated at the door. “You said you didn’t have much to do with him. Was there anyone here he might have talked to, anyone he connected with?”

Iverson hesitated. “Well, he seemed to connect with the sisters, perhaps they can help you.”

“You got nuns workin’ here?” asked Ray.

“I was unaware of any religious affiliation,” commented Fraser.

Iverson laughed. “I don’t mean religious sisters. I’m talking about Miss Emily and Miss Agatha - elderly sisters. They help out in the kitchen and do some sewing - mending clothes mostly.”

“Are they here now?” asked Ray.

“No. They haven’t been by the past few days. I gather they have some sort of family commitment that keeps them from committing to regular hours. They drop in when they can,” said Iverson. “We’re just grateful that they show up as often as they do. They’re very popular - sort of grandmotherly types that everyone feels comfortable with.”

Ray pulled out his notebook. “Have you got a way to get in touch with these grandmotherly types?”

“Well, uh, certainly, if you think it’s necessary.” Iverson consulted an address book and wrote out the information on a scrap of paper. He handed it to Ray. “I’m not sure how much help they’ll be, but I’m sure they’ll want to do what they can. I don’t mean to be rude, but if that is everything, I have a budget meeting to attend.”

Sitting in the car, Ray let his fingers drum in time to a tune only he could hear. Something teased at his memory, but just wouldn’t come forward.

Fraser watched Ray for a few minutes. “We should probably check out the other places where Mr. Bell considered making donations,” he said.

Ray nodded and started the car. “We’ll go in the morning,” he said. “It’s late and everyone’ll be busy with meals and sorting out who gets a bed for the night.”

“You seem to know a lot about the routines in these places,” Fraser commented as a way to ask the question he’d wanted to ask earlier.

Ray drove at a comparatively sedate pace. “About five years ago I spent a lot of time down here, undercover.”

“Ah.”

“Lasted a few months before the busts were made.”

“Do you think you were recognized?”

“Nah. I don’t look the same - had long red hair back then - and I’m out of context.”

Fraser frowned, obviously trying to picture Ray with long red hair. “Uh, out of context? You mean because you are here as a detective rather than a street person.”

“Right. Even if I bump into someone I knew then, they aren’t likely to connect me with him - the guy I was, I mean.”

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. “Are there, by any chance, photos of you at that time?”

“In your dreams, Constable,” scoffed Ray.

They rode in companionable silence until they approached the turn off for the consulate.

Ray cleared his throat.

“Hey, you got plans tonight? I figured we could go over the game plan for tomorrow while we eat.” Ray kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Or, if you want, we could just hang out; might be kinda nice to get caught up, seeing as how you were gone almost two months.”

When silence greeted his offer, Ray stuttered, “Or, you know, if you want to just head back to your place, that’s cool, too. I mean, you’re probably still getting settled back--”

“No, Ray, I accept--” Dief’s yip interrupted Fraser, who corrected himself. “I mean, we accept. Dinner and catching up would be...I, we, would like that. Very much.”

Ray eased to a stop at a red light and grinned at his friend. “Yeah? Good, that’s good.”

Fraser returned his grin with a boyish, almost shy smile.

The warm wet invasion of Ray’s ear broke the spell. “Jeez, Dief! What’s with you and my ear?” Ray batted away the offending tongue.

“Now, Ray, Diefenbaker is simply expressing his affection for you.”

“Really?”

“Well, that or he’s desperately hungry and willing to eat pretty much anything.”

“You, my friend, are a freak.”

“Understood.”

By the time Ray dropped off Fraser and Diefenbaker at the consulate, it was almost midnight. They discussed the case while waiting for the pizza delivery, and then spent the rest of the evening talking and reconnecting in their own snarky way.

Ray drove home with the odd feeling that something had definitely shifted. Their conversations had been peppered with ‘looks’ and shy smiles and, if Ray hadn’t known better, he’d swear they were a couple of teenagers with a crush.

It was as he turned onto his street that a missing piece of the case puzzle came to him. Pulling a u-turn, Ray drove to the precinct.

Commandeering one of the interview rooms, Ray began sifting through years of files, looking for the snippets of information that had been nagging at him all day.

His nose twitched at the smell of coffee. This brought him awake enough to realize someone was petting him. Ray frowned and pried his eyes open a bit. Fraser was on his knees beside him, coffee in one hand while the other hand was gently rubbing his back.

“Bent’n,” he mumbled, smiling at the man beside him; the man who was responding with a decidedly sappy smile of his own.

“Ray? I brought you coffee, just the way you like it.”

Huh. Benton Fraser as his personal servant. Oh yeah, he was definitely dreaming. Although, maybe he could change one or two details to make this an even better dream.

“Hey, Ben,” he slurred. “Aren’t you forgettin’ something?”

Ben looked so cute with his eyes scrunching up in thought.

Ray shifted a bit to rub against the hand still resting on his back. “Naked,” he said, voice slurred with sleep. “S’pose t’be naked.”

The feel of something burning his knee brought him to full awareness. “The hell!” he yelled jumping up. Oh shit! He hadn’t been dreaming. What had he said? Did he say anything out loud? Panic woke him more quickly than the caffeine would have done.

Fraser sprawled on the floor and looked up at Ray with wide-eyed shock. Diefenbaker looked back and forth between Fraser and Ray, clearly not sure what had just happened.

Ray fought for composure. “Hey, Frase, you startled me. I guess I fell asleep, huh?” He vigorously scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. “What are you doing here so late?”

Fraser carefully moved to his knees, putting the half-empty cup on the table and dabbing at the spilled coffee on the floor with paper napkins. “Ray, it’s almost nine.” Fraser stood and tossed the wet mess into the trash can. “I received a call from Francesca this morning letting me know you had been here all night and suggesting that I should bring you coffee.”

“Frannie did that? Huh. That was...nice of her.” He reached for the cup and took a sip. “And you, that’s - this is nice. Thanks.”

Fraser continued to stare at him, ignoring the way Diefenbaker licked the coffee streaks on the floor.

Ray resumed his seat and pulled out a chair for his friend, determined to get back to whatever passed for normal between them. “I really appreciate this, buddy. I was only planning check on something and go home, but...” He grimaced and finished the coffee with a large gulp.

Fortunately, Fraser was willing to set aside the momentary weirdness.

Fraser indicated the files. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yeah, maybe. See, I kept thinking there was something I was missing. It was just there at the back of my head and I couldn’t get it out. Then, after I dropped you off, it kind of came to me and I wanted to see if it was real or just something I imagined.”

“I highly doubt you invented a detail, Ray. You have an amazing capacity for retaining case information.”

Ray scoffed. “Wow. I’m honoured. Thanks.”

“Don’t be silly, Ray. You know I think highly of your skills.”

Ray grinned, blushed and looked to see if there was any coffee left in the cup.

A warm wet tongue in his ear broke the mood. “Jeez, Dief!” Ray tried to push the wolf away, with limited success. “Not at the station, okay. People will talk.”

Diefenbaker gave him a doggy grin and went to stretch out by the door.

“That, my friend, is one seriously weird wolf,” said Ray.

“I must admit he has some highly unique characteristics,” agreed Fraser, before turning back to the files. “What did you find?”

Ray pulled several piles toward them. “Okay, so these guys - there’s no ID, no nothing. They remained John Does.” Ray reached for a smaller stack of files. “Now, these guys have a bit of history. We’ve got names, but no families or acquaintances ever claimed the bodies.”

“Given the degree of...disfigurement, how could they be identified?”

“These guys were reported missing.” Ray consulted his notes. “They were all regulars at some of the missions and soup kitchens where they helped out in exchange for food, clothes, whatever. When these guys failed to show up, they were reported missing. And when the remains were found, there was usually something on the body to match up with the identity of whoever had disappeared.”

Fraser’s brows furrowed in concentration as he scanned some of the files. “But, these span several decades. Were they all connected to the same places?”

“Sort of. See, missions and shelters and soup kitchens, they come and go. One closes down, and another opens somewhere else run by different folks.” Ray grimaced. “Lack of money or support makes these places pretty short term.”

“Which, in turn, would make someone very receptive to an offer like the one Mr. Bell made,” said Fraser.

“Exactly. As far as anyone knew, he was just another bum - pardon, just another street person looking for a handout.” Ray flipped the pages of his notepad. “The names of the places don’t match, but some of the witnesses interviewed do.”

Fraser leaned forward. “I didn’t think there were any witnesses.”

“Not to the murders, but they knew the men who disappeared. Six files over almost five decades make mention of a couple of spinsters who volunteered to cook, sew, whatever, to help out.”

Fraser looked perplexed. “Well, I...I admit that is quite a coincidence, but Ray it is highly doubtful that they are the same--”

“Miss Agatha and Miss Emily Vulture.”

“Miss Agatha and Em - excuse me, but did you say vulture?”

Ray showed the file he was holding to Fraser. “Yeah, right here. See?”

Fraser grinned. “Actually, that says Agatha and Emily Vautour.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Well, not quite. You see, Vautour is French. It is from the word meaning...um...” Fraser ran his thumb over his eyebrow. “Well, it means vulture.”

A sound that could have been interpreted as a snicker came from Dief’s corner of the room.

Ray was fascinated by the slight colour that tinted Fraser’s cheeks, but took pity on him. “Anyway, Miss Agatha and Miss Emily seem to have been helping out at shelters for an awful lot of years.”

Fraser cleared his throat. “What did their statements say?”

With that, the two men huddled over the relevant files, which really didn’t shed any more light on their case.

“Well, that was not very enlightening,” said Fraser.

“Yeah, well, not a lot of manpower goes into finding bums who go missing, you know.”

Fraser was indignant. “They are still citizens, Ray. They deserve the same level of protection as anyone else.”

Ray was raised his hands in surrender. “Down boy, I’m not agreeing with it; I’m just sayin’ that’s the reality - and even more so 20 or 30 years ago.”

Diefenbaker sat up and warbled at the men.

“I told you to do that before we came in,” said Fraser, causing Ray to snicker.

Dief stood in front of the door and looked back at them.

Fraser gave in grudgingly. “Fine. But we are not going anywhere near the bakery so you can just get that idea out of your head.”

Dief hung his head and looked up at Fraser in a pitiful manner.

“That won’t work.” Fraser told the wolf as he began tidying the files. He glanced at Ray apologetically. “Let me help with these before I take him out. Perhaps we can finish when we get back.”

Ray looked over at Dief, who stared back with sorrowful eyes. “Tell you what. I’ll go with you guys and then we’ll go visit the Vulture sisters, see if we can get anything useful out of them.”

“That’s Vautour, Ray.”

“That’s what I said.”

Fraser just sighed at Ray’s unrepentant grin. “Now you are just being silly.”

“We all have our gifts, Ben.” While Fraser was puzzling that out, Ray continued, “Let’s go. I really want to talk to these paradigms of virtue.”

“That would be paragons of virtue, Ray.”

“You sure about that?” asked Ray, grinning at Fraser’s long-suffering sigh.

An hour later, they headed for the city limits and the rural Vautour estate.

“They’ve got an estate? How come they spend so much time hanging out at the missions, then?”

“Honestly, Ray. Having money does not necessarily preclude one from having a social conscience.”

“I know that, Frase. But this time...I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s not right about that setup.”

Fraser frowned at Ray. “Are you always so suspicious of everyone? You’ve never even met these women and you’re convinced of some criminal wrongdoing. They are witnesses, not suspects.”

“That suspicion you’re so judgmental about is the reason I’m still alive,” snapped Ray. “Look, when you live your life - your life - all up front and open, then you can pick and choose where you get suspicious. But here’s the thing, I don’t live my life. I live other people’s lives; it’s what I’m good at. And I’m good at it because I don’t trust any one a hundred percent. That kind of trust can get you killed when you’re under cover.”

“Ah.” Fraser fidgeted a bit.

Diefenbaker sat up in the back seat and whined, looking between Fraser and Ray.

Fraser turned slightly in his seat to better see Dief. “No, we’re not fighting.” He listened as Dief grumbled a bit. “It’s just his way, you know that. That’s not anger, it’s...passion. No, not that kind of - well, yes, perhaps but...but...I admit that it could bear some...consideration.”

Dief’s ears perked up and both he and Fraser turn to look at Ray, who tried to look back them without crashing the car. “What? What’s going on with you two?”

To Ray’s surprise, Fraser blushed and ducked his head, smiling. Ray had the strangest feeling that he really, really needed to know what was going on, but was sidetracked by a warm, wet tongue in his ear.

“Jeez, Dief! What’d I tell you about doin’ that when I’m driving!”

Diefenbaker huffed what Ray would go to his grave swearing was a laugh, licked Ray’s ear again and flopped down on the backseat.

Ray wiped at his ear, grumbling “Great, now I’m gonna get wolf cooties.”

“Cooties, Ray?” asked Fraser, obviously trying not to smirk, which Ray decided was actually a good look for him.

“You are both freaks - a matched set.”

“Understood.”

The remainder of the trip was silent except to clarify directions. By the time they reached the unmarked turnoff for the Vautour estate, Ray and Fraser were grinning for no apparent reason. The only thing Ray could figure was that they were both feeling the ‘something’ that had grown while Fraser had been away.

Rounding the last curve of the private road, Ray let the car coast the last bit so they could take in the setting. The house and its surroundings were gorgeous, and they made Ray twitchy. He slowly got out of the car and looked around. There was no obvious danger, but every nerve was screaming for him to get away as fast as he could.

Fraser was clearly enchanted by the setting. “Amazing,” he whispered, looking at the house and front gardens.

Objectively, Ray could admit the Victorian style house was attractive, as was the garden. However, that did not stop him from wanting to push Fraser back into the car and speed back to the city.

Diefenbaker jumped out of the window and stood beside Ray, hackles raised and a low growl rumbling in the air.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Ray, laying a comforting hand on Dief’s head. “Something’s not right.”

When Fraser moved toward the stone path linking the driveway to the mansion’s front door, Ray called him back.

Fraser hurried back to them, alerted by something in Ray’s voice and his wolf’s posture.

“What’s wrong?”

Ray shrugged. “I’m not sure. Don’t you feel it? There’s something...evil here.”

Fraser looked around carefully, but only shook his head when he looked back at Ray. “Nothing appears to be amiss.”

“I don’t like this, Fraser. The house, that garden - it gives me the creeps.” Ray pulled his jacket closer. “It’s like that house up in New York, the Amyville Horror.”

“I believe you mean the Amityville Horror, Ray. But this is nothing like that.” Fraser walked a bit closer to the path, admiring the house on the hill. “This is a perfectly charming example of Victoriana.”

Ray refused to budge. “I’m telling you I’m not setting foot in there without backup. It would be just our luck if this turns out to be the Hotel California and we’re trapped in there forever.”

“Now you really are being silly, Ray.”

“Oh, sure, you say that now, but mark my words, Fraser, something is wrong here. Hell, even Dief doesn’t want to be here.” Ray continued to pet Dief soothingly. “I’m thinking we probably shouldn’t go in until we’re properly armed.”

Fraser looked sceptical. “What did you have in mind?”

Ray shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe a cross and some garlic. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have a few silver bullets, either.”

Dief sneezed.

Ray glanced down at Dief. “Sorry, buddy. Nothing personal.”

Dief wagged his tail briefly and sat, a clear indication he was not moving.

“Now you are both being ridiculous,” said Fraser, sounding a bit pissed. When neither man nor wolf made any more toward the house, Fraser went ahead on his own. “As you wish. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

When Fraser was almost halfway up the path, Ray and Diefenbaker looked at each other. “Oh, for the love of--” Ray took off after Fraser, Dief right behind him.

Standing at the door waiting for someone to answer, Ray felt a shiver run down his spine. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful was going to happen. He might put it down to lack of sleep or one too many late night movies, but the fact that Dief was quietly whimpering just put him more on edge. If it - whatever the hell ‘it’ was - could unnerve a wolf, they were in serious trouble.

Ray flinched slightly when the door suddenly opened. He flashed his badge and explained the purpose of their visit, and felt a cold sweat break out when the harmless looking old lady in the old-fashioned black dress invited them inside.

“Sister! Do hurry, we have visitors,” she called out as the door shut behind them with an ominous thud. “The police are here. Put on the special tea for them.”

Fraser, the oblivious bastard, just put on that damn polite-friendly-trust me smile and walked where sane men and wolves knew better than to go. All Ray and Dief could do was follow him and hope for the best.

Part 2