Part 7 ~ Wednesday 13 April 1994
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Part 7 ~ Wednesday 13 April 1994 |
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Two in the morning. Stan was dozing on the couch, TV droning
on; Ben figured that Stan was more likely to wake if the noise stopped so he
fought the urge to switch it off for some peace and quiet. The evening had been
interminable without Ray; although he’d tried hard to occupy his time he still
felt the void and it distracted him constantly. He’d gone over his notes on the
murder case, including several pages of conjecture, and several more of queries
brought about by some of Al’s ramblings on the journey to He was on his way back to the kitchen window when the sound of a key in the lock caught his attention. He observed from the kitchen doorway as Ray carefully crept into his own home, determined not to wake his partner, who he evidently knew from past experience would be asleep in front of the TV. As Ray looked around the room his eyes met the Mountie’s and locked; life’s burdens fell away and all he knew was the need to be close to this man. Dropping his notebook and the garbage sack containing his ruined clothes he hurried to Ben, herding him into the kitchen with a gesture, recognising the reciprocal longing that burned in the depths of his eyes. They stopped in the middle of the floor, bodies inches apart. Ray laid his hands flat on Ben’s chest, stroking with his thumbs. “I’m sorry I left you, Benny.” “You’re here now.” Ben placed his hands over Ray’s. “You’re freezing.” “Yeah,” Ray acknowledged breathily, giving a shiver that was little to do with temperature. “Warm me up?” Ben gently brought Ray to him, pressing them together so his heat could seep into the cop’s chilly body; his lips rested on Ray’s neck and his warm breaths instigated a series of shudders that he felt as if they were his own. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered, caressing Ray’s back beneath his jacket. “From the moment I found you’d gone…” It only took a split second for Ray to realise Ben wasn’t referring to this afternoon, but Canada. “I was a coward, I’m sorry.” “No, you had to come home. And I didn’t say the things that would have made you stay.” Ray pulled back so he could see Ben’s face, more to admire than to judge his expression. “Ray, you went away and I stopped smiling. I know this sounds like line after line, but my whole self, body and soul, stopped smiling.” Ray’s cold hands came up to caress Ben’s face, tenderly tracing the lips that automatically responded by kissing his fingertips. “I didn’t think you’d care enough for me to make you sad.” “How can you— You made me sad because you gave me joy. The level of self analysis it took for me to figure out what had happened was ridiculous. I pulled myself to pieces before I understood. I had never felt true joy before, everything in my life has been so superficial, but you…” Ben swallowed at the lump in his throat, dipping his head and shaking it briefly to tell Ray he couldn’t say more. “Benny…” Ray murmured, fairly speechless himself. He lifted Ben’s face up to his and softly kissed the perfect mouth, threading his fingers into Ben’s thick hair as he did so, feeling every one of Ben’s fingers as they flexed into the skin of his back. Stan had woken when he’d heard Ray’s voice: it was an instinctive reaction borne of familiarity, allowing him to hear the hushed tones of his partner through the fog of weariness and the racket of the TV. Okay, Ray was home, he was in the kitchen with the Mountie, and Stan’s first thought was to make a discreet exit and leave them alone together to do the sorting out that needed sorting out. But it would set a trend, and he refused to allow this change in Ray’s life to alienate him; after all, if it had been a woman he wouldn’t have turned and run, would he? He’d have been extra supportive to his friend because, in his mind, love roughly equated to a whole heap of shit hitting a fan. He was going to walk into that kitchen and make coffee, just like he would on any other night when Ray turned up at two-thirty in the morning. Walk into that kitchen and not look at anything other than the coffee-maker. Coffee-maker. Okay? Okay. Ray’s attempt to step out of Ben’s embrace as his partner sleepily entered the room was thwarted by the Mountie’s strength. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Stan waved at them to disregard him and dug around in the cupboard for the extra-extra-extra-strong ground coffee. “If you don’t let me go I will die of embarrassment,” Ray hissed in Ben’s ear, instantly aware of the grip around him relaxing. Wriggling away he pushed Ben into one of the chairs at the table before taking a deep breath and turning to Stan. “Sorry about that.” “Don’t start being sorry, Ray. This is your place, what you do here is fine.” “But…” “Relax, okay? You can relax. You can be yourself around me, you know you can.” “I don’t want to gross you out.” “I’m not grossed out by this. I’m getting used to it. I’m occasionally fazed but never grossed.” “Okay.” “Okay?” “Okay.” “I can see how you feel about each other, I don’t expect you to play at just good friends when I’m around.” “He’ll be asking to watch next,” Ben muttered from behind them. “Oh, yeah, now I’m grossed,” Stan snapped, throwing a filthy look over his shoulder at the Canadian, seeing by the expression that he’d been had. “Don’t go making this worse,” Ray ordered Ben, whose face showed suspiciously immediate contrition. “Just, let’s all…” Ray looked from Ben to Stan and back again. “Well, at least you didn’t come to blows.” He sat opposite Ben, sinking into the grip of the exhaustion that caught up with him, closing his eyes and wondering if he was dreaming being awake. “And if you do, I don’t want to know.” Stan turned and leant against the counter, watching Ben watching Ray, a mixture of affection and concern on the Mountie’s face: it was a totally unguarded expression, and Stan was grateful to see that the hardness, the impression of menace beneath the surface had magically disappeared. So, was that enough to allow him to stand down from his guard dog duties? Maybe. But not before he’d had a go at unsettling the arrogant Canuck. “I spoke to Charlie earlier. It was touch and go for a minute there, but it looks like Frankie’s gonna be fine.” Ray ran his hands over his head before covering his face for a moment. “Thank God for that. I really thought I’d managed to get him killed.” Stan took his coffee to the table, stopping behind Ray to run his fingers through the bristle of the new haircut; Ray jumped at the touch. “Nice cut.” Stan could feel Ben’s eyes on him, and he’d be willing to bet that the fuck off and die stare was back. “You’re a good-looking guy, Ray, have I ever told you that?” Ray swatted his hand away. “Pack that up! And you,” he fixed a hard look on the Mountie, “don’t rise to it. He’s winding you up. Don’t be…wound.” Stan accepted how well Ray knew him and sat beside him with a chuckle, still not prepared to look in Ben’s direction and give him the pleasure of delivering a glare that could freeze the balls off a brass monkey. “That your suit in the garbage sack by the front door?” “Yeah,” Ray replied queasily. “Want me to get the stuff out the pockets for you?” “You mind?” “Nah. I’ll do that and I’ll go.” “You don’t have to…” “Yeah, I do. I need some sleep.” Stan patted Ray’s shoulder as he rose, testing out the exclusion zone and regretfully feeling Ray shrink away from the touch. “You want me to throw the suit in a dumpster?” Ray nodded and Stan smiled sympathetically at the back of his head before drifting out of the kitchen. Ray was half out of his seat when Stan’s voice regaled him from the next room, verbally shoving him back into his chair: “And don’t touch that coffee! Just go to bed.” There was a brief pause. “Sleep. I mean sleep.” Ray and Ben exchanged a smile before Ray motioned with his head in the direction of the bedroom. Ben nodded and rose, pausing by Ray to run a hand over the back of his shorn head, performing a minor rite of reclamation. He passed through the living room on the way to the bathroom; Stan was sitting on the floor, reading through Ray’s notebook, wholly preoccupied and not about to look up. “Goodnight, Detective.” “Yeah, sure,” Stan gave a distracted wave. Ben shook his head and carried on his way. Ray followed at a slower pace, stopping to study his partner who was deep in thought and apparently oblivious to his presence. “What are you doing tomorrow?” Stan asked without looking up. “More of the same. Minus the ‘almost getting Frankie killed’ aspect, naturally.” “Natch. Got an angle?” Ray shrugged. “Another family maybe. Pop was treading on some toes, they decide to get rid of the opposition. It’s not great but I don’t know where else to go.” “Ray… You know there’s a chance we won’t find who did this?” There was a substantial pause before Ray replied. “I know there’s a chance. Too many imponderables.” “Or if we do figure it out but if Frankie gets there first…” “He said he’d hand the guy over.” Stan finally looked up, fixing a questioning look on Ray. “You think he’d do that?” “Said he would. It felt like he meant it but…” Ray shrugged again. “Y’know… I can’t believe nobody saw this suspect plane out
of Manitoba and into Yellowknife, and I can’t believe nobody saw it out of “Tuktoyaktuk.” “Yeah, right. There’s someone somewhere that saw it. There’s always a witness.” “The local cops are still making enquiries, but I’m through
with Manitoba for the moment. You want to help me with the list of possibles I
got from “Not a problem.” Stan gathered up the strewn contents of Ray’s suit pockets and stood, throwing everything into the crystal bowl. “Think Welsh is going to take me off this?” Ray asked. “You shouldn’t be on it anyway. You’re way too close.” “Is he?” “Not yet.” “Meaning he will?” “I don’t know, all right? Forget about it now, get some sleep. Look at you, you’re grey, you know that? How’s…” Stan gestured towards Ray’s head. “Fine.” “You look like shit. S’pose it would have been too much for Red to look after you with me outta town.” “He only just— I don’t need anyone looking after me.” Stan fixed one of the hated stares on his partner and Ray turned away. “That’s what you want, is it? Some guy with a hat-line embedded in his forehead and go-faster stripes on his pants?” Ray smiled at the description. Yes, that was what he wanted, absolutely. “Go home. We’ll talk tomorrow.” “Oh, yeah, you bet we will.” Ray listened as the door opened and then clicked shut behind
him; turning to it he threw the bolt and slipped on the safety chain,
experiencing the simple pleasure that came from being secure in his own home –
his bolt-hole – locked away from the world. Just him…and Ben. Benny. Who came
all the way from Ray stripped off and climbed into bed, stretching, unclenching his muscles with a groan of satisfaction. Despite wanting to stay conscious for Ben he began to drift off to sleep, only resurfacing as he felt movement beside him. “Don’t wake up, don’t wake up,” Ben urged him in a whisper. A shower gel-fragranced hand smoothed over his chest and settled on his rib cage, fingertips stroking the line of the bones. Arousal and fatigue fought for Ray’s attention, the latter winning out as Ben’s gentle tones encouraged him to sleep. “I thought I’d never see you again,” Ray murmured as he settled closer to Ben, letting the Mountie pull him onto his chest, feeling possessive arms envelop him. “You were always going to see me again. And that’s no line.” Wholly content, Ray nodded his acceptance, Ben’s kiss on his forehead the last thing he was aware of as he fell back to sleep. Ben listened to Ray’s breathing deepen and kissed him again, knowing he could sleep too now: for the moment, all was precisely as it should be. … Ray’s internal clock woke him at He wasn’t alone. A long, hot body moulded itself along his, spooning behind him, a perfect fit. “Ben?” The name, the knowledge, almost choked him. “Mmm…” warm lips kissed his neck, a hand slid over his hip, lightly caressing. “Oh, dear God, Benny…you’re here.” “Think you’d dreamt me?” “I don’t know what… Maybe I am dreaming.” I don’t want to wake up, I don’t want to wake up, I
don’t… “Where does the dream go from here?” Ray turned in Ben’s embrace, wriggling around until they were face to face in the dim light. “I wake up now. And you’re gone.” “Not today, I think,” Ben smiled as he closed the couple of inches between them and kissed Ray’s mouth, gently but insistently pressing forward with his body until Ray was eased onto his back, allowing Ben to slide over him, allowing their already-hard cocks to lightly skim each other. Ray broke the kiss so he could take a gulp of air as the sensation in his groin fizzled through his body and took his breath away. “Yes, yes, please, Benny…” he whispered urgently, grasping at Ben’s back and hips, trying not to dig his nails into the flesh to force the tormenting body into closer contact. Finally his distracted brain figured out the answer and he pulled at Ben’s arms, taking away the Mountie’s support and bringing him down. Ray entwined their legs before Ben could break contact again, groaning as their cocks mashed together. “You get me so excited,” Ben confessed as he felt his usually excellent self-control deserting him, “and I wanted to make this last.” “I don’t…it doesn’t… Benny, Benny…come with me?” Ben felt a thrill at the provocative words, answering Ray with a passionate kiss and no less passionate thrusting of his hips, flinching pleasurably as Ray’s fingernails grazed his skin. It seemed no time at all before the nails sank deeper as Ray’s body tensed before jerking into a fierce orgasm; Ben followed within seconds, the sensation of Ray’s semen gushing between their slick bodies enough to tip him over the edge. “Good morning, Detective,” Ben said with a slow grin when he eventually had the breath. “Good doesn’t begin to cover it, Sergeant,” Ray replied, reaching up to stroke Ben’s face, gazing admiringly at the fantasy become reality. Ben rolled them back onto their sides and hugged Ray to him until they were nose to nose; after a lifetime of post-coital disinterest the fact that he wanted to hold Ray rather than turn away and go back to sleep was hugely significant to him. He realised he was putting his own case together in his head and smiled. The case for the defence, Detective Vecchio, will show acts of affection and consideration previously unseen in the character of the defendant, Ben Fraser. No lines, no manipulation, no subterfuge. Simply…love. Ray leant in, treating himself to a last kiss before settling down to doze. He knew that this degree of pleasure, of sheer satisfaction, had to have a consequential shock wave of pain that would undoubtedly crush him when Ben eventually left. It was in his nature to look for the consequences of any action, and it was in his nature to expect any consequences to be negative. So was Ben worth the impending misery? Stupid, stupid question. Three days had only been the start. This many days in and Ray was completely, unrealistically besotted. … As they sat having breakfast the phone rang and Ray
immediately leapt up to answer it. Ben watched him closely, seeing that damned
frown appear before he even picked up the receiver. Okay, there was a
possibility this was Stan on the phone; Ben felt a momentary pang of jealousy,
but it was nothing compared to the raging emotion he’d felt before. He’d seen
Ray and Stan together and knew that although the partners were close and
plainly thought a great deal of one another, Ray was exclusively his,
emotionally, romantically, sexually. And if Ray was prepared to tolerate the
obsessive quality of his feelings, Ben knew he was looking at his future. Up
until now he’d known with absolute certainty that the future was to be a bleak,
lonely experience with no meaningful connections. In his mind he conjured up
the image of Ray walking into the Tuktoyaktuk Post, into his life, his heart,
his forever. Whatever he thought of Joseph Vecchio he knew he owed him a massive
vote of thanks for taking the trouble to journey to the “Maria,” Ray explained as he took his seat. “Pop’s body’s been released. Funeral’s on Friday.” Ben wasn’t sure of the appropriate response so he simply nodded. “You going to be here for that?” Ray asked quietly, scared to look at Ben and see a negative shake of a head. “Of course I’ll be here for you. That is if…” “Yeah. Yeah. I want you with me.” “Then it’s settled,” Ben smiled kindly. Ray took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders and unsuccessfully attempting to unknot muscles that had tensed to screaming point in a matter of minutes. “Are you going to have to speak at the serv…” “Change the subject,” Ray insisted before Ben could finish his sentence. “Don’t want to go there.” Ben understood that, nodded, sipped his tea in silence while he thought of a suitable change. Yes, there was that. And he was going to ask sooner or later… “Were you ever attracted to Stan?” “Stan?” “Yes, Stan.” “Jesus, where did that come from?” “It’s just something I’ve wondered about.” “Since when?” “Since the first time you mentioned him. You told me I’d have been interested in him not you if I’d met the two of you together. I thought perhaps you were speaking from personal experience.” “Personal experience?” “I just thought you might have been attracted to him.” “This is Stan we’re talking about. I don’t look at him like that; I never have.” “Why?” “Because…well, because it’s Stan,” Ray insisted, as if that were reason enough. Ben watched as Ray rethought the question before leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table, meeting Ben’s gaze. “I didn’t allow myself to look at any man like that. I didn’t look at you until I was forced to look.” “Ray…I know you don’t trust me yet, but I hope you don’t have regrets.” “You, Benny… You’re…” Ray fumbled around for the right words, knowing what he wanted to say, wanting to say it without making it sound like an accusation. “I have no regrets when you’re with me. But when I’m alone…” He stopped, thought again, tried again. “When you go I’ll start turning this around and being negative about it all. I know you have to go home and I’m daring to think you’re going to be sorry about that, but I know how I’ll be because the expectation of everything going to shit is ingrained in me. If Stan says I shouldn’t have done this I’m going to agree with him. But looking at you sitting there now, and thinking about waking up with you… I am going to try so hard not to regret a thing,” Ray finished determinedly. “Yes, I have to go, but I’ll be back whenever I can. You can visit Tuktoyaktuk. That’s if you’d like to, of course.” There was a pause as Ray let it sink in. “You want to keep this going?” “You don’t?” Ben asked with dismay. “No, no, I do. I just didn’t think you would.” “I see. You thought this was what? A fling?” “Don’t get angry.” “I’m not—” Ben heard the anger in his own voice and backed off. “I’m not angry. Pointlessly defensive.” “Look, I’m never going to be able to figure out why you wanted me in the first place, why should I think you’d want to carry on when we’re hundreds of miles apart?” “We can do this.” “Yeah? Well, wait until you haven’t had sex for a month and then someone like Steve turns up on your doorstep.” “Or someone like Stan turns up on yours?” “Will you get past that! Stan is my partner and my friend, and that’s it.” A thought occurred to Ray and he regarded Ben suspiciously. “You want him? Is that what it’s about? You want him so you think I should?” “No.” “Because if you do…” “No!” Ben slapped both hands onto the table, the resultant explosion of noise bringing them both to a halt. They glared at one another until a grin twitched at Ben’s mouth. Ray raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m sorry,” Ben smiled, “for the way I’m behaving. I’ve never been jealous, I’ve never felt possessive, but you’ve apparently created a monster. I’m not genuinely worried about Stan, not in the way I was. I do like the fact that he’s there for you, that he loves you like a brother, and…” “He what?” “Loves you like a brother.” Ray grinned. “Where d’you get that from?” “He told me.” “Stan said that?” “Yesterday.” “In what context?” “In the context of him telling me to fuck off, basically.” “Ah, no.” “We resolved some of our differences. He simply doesn’t want you to be hurt.” “And he said that?” “He said he loves you like a brother.” “Wow.” Ben laughed at Ray’s reaction, delighted by the cop’s delight. “I gotta tell you, Benny, these have been some of the most surprising days of my life. What with Stan saying that, and you, period, and Frankie turning out to be…still Frankie.” “Stan said the two of you were friends once.” “Best friends up till we were thirteen, and I’m telling you it hurts like crazy when you separate the inseparable. You know, I’ve missed that, missed him. I’m sure he felt it too. But like I was saying to him, you can’t go back.” “It would, however, be an interesting step forward.” Ray stared at Ben, taken aback by the veiled suggestion. “I can’t be pals with a mob boss, Benny, what are you thinking?” “I’m thinking you’d be a lot safer than you are now.” “God, the way your mind works! I don’t want to be seen as being in Frankie Zuko’s pocket; I’ve had enough of cops looking at me sideways because of Pop.” “It would be up to you to make the rules you want to play by.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about. This is the mob.” “This is one man. One man who has reputedly saved your life on more than one occasion.” “Look, I can guess what Stan told you and it’s all based on conjecture. And, I tell you, I know me and Pop had our differences, but I don’t want to believe he’d have stood back and watched a Zuko have me hit.” Ben recognised denial when he saw it, but just nodded and backtracked. “I think Frankie would be safer too.” “Frankie can look after himself.” “You don’t sound convinced.” “If I sound anything it’s guilty because him getting shot yesterday was due to me. I shouldn’t have been there, I should’ve listened to Stan and to the Lieutenant, I should at least have waited for you to come back from the store and tell me to pull myself together.” “But you now believe Frankie is innocent of your father’s murder?” “I do.” “Then it was worth it.” “I don’t think Frankie will see it that way.” “I imagine he faces the threat of violence every day of his life.” “Yeah, but he never had to face it because of me before. I’m the one who always used to stick up for him, get in the way when someone was trying to flatten him. I mean, it was nothing, no kid ever hit as hard as Pop so I was immune. Before yesterday he wouldn’t have believed he’d ever feel my gun against his head, and he certainly wasn’t planning to be talking old times one minute and laid out on the floor in agony the next.” “Have you ever shot anyone?” Ben asked, and Ray nodded, clearly unhappy with the memory. “You ever kill someone?” “Thank God, no.” “There’s a realisation that comes with it, an acceptance of mortality. When you cause a death you learn how easily a death can be caused. I’m sure Frankie has understood that for a long time. If not, he wouldn’t feel the need to surround himself with armed guards.” “You killed someone?” Ray’s voice was hushed. Ben paused and pulled the words together in his head. “An escaped prisoner who was intent on murdering the RCMP officer who had originally brought him in. He stabbed me and pursued my colleague. I pushed him from a factory gantry, he fell sixty feet and died instantly. On another occasion a woman involved in a bank robbery drove a car through a group of several civilians in a bid to escape, badly injuring several of them. When she drove at me I fired through the windscreen; she lost control of the vehicle and it crashed. She died a few hours later.” “How do you live with it?” “I responded as I’d been trained to when faced with a life-threatening situation, whether it was other individuals or myself in danger. In both cases the course of action I took was, I felt, the only one left open to me.” “And that makes it okay? Inside?” “It does. I’m a realist.” “I’ve wondered if I could do it. I hope I never have to find out.” “If someone was deliberately pointing a gun at you, or Stan, I think you’d find it happening instinctively. Self-preservation is a powerful tool. Wait and see what Frank Zuko does next.” Ray sat in silence for a while, thinking about everything Ben had said, dwelling on the possibility of re-establishing his connections with Frankie, despite hearing Stan’s caustic voice in his head telling him he’d achieved a new level of weirdness. Ben washed the breakfast dishes without Ray noticing, and when he was finished he crouched at the cop’s side and took his hand. “I’m spending some time at the Canadian Consulate today. Is there anything you need me for?” He smiled. “Anything at all?” Ray smiled back, shaking off thoughts of Frankie, death, and Stan giving him yet another lecture. “You can give Tuktoyaktuk a call. See if they’ve got anything new.” “Any rush?” “Anytime this morning would be good.” “I’ll phone from the Consulate. Will you pick me up at lunchtime?” “Can we come back here?” Ray asked, a little embarrassed by the sub-text of his suggestion. “We can do whatever you want,” Ben assured him, pulling him around in his chair to make him more accessible, kneeling between his thighs and pressing their bodies together as he kissed him hard. After a few minutes it wasn’t only the kisses that were hard. “Ray…” “Benny?” “Does it matter if you’re late for work?” “I don’t like to be late for work.” “Does it matter?” “I guess.” “What about if I do…this?” … Ray glanced at his watch as they approached the Riv. So, what was an hour after all he’d been through? Ben automatically headed for the passenger side and Ray smiled at him over the roof of the car. “You don’t wanna drive my car?” “I have to be honest. I hate to drive.” “Really? I love to drive.” “One less thing to fight over,” Ben teased. “You know, Ray, this might just work.” Ray dropped Ben off at the Consulate and turned the car in the direction of the Station House. The effect was immediate: the knowledge of his responsibilities crowded in and the fear of not being able to solve this case gnawed at his gut. It wasn’t only what he expected of himself, he knew the girls were waiting for him to find the killer, it was in the way they looked at him, the way they talked in whispers behind his back. Maybe they had loved Pop – that was something he hadn’t taken into consideration. Maybe he had. It was such a bizarre proposition that he spent the remainder of the journey analysing it, coming to one single conclusion: if he didn’t want to spend the day with a raging headache he had to give the subject a suitably wide berth. It was with an unaccustomed swell of pure affection that he laid eyes on Stan, the man who reputedly loved him like a brother. His partner was already at his desk across the aisle from Ray’s, up to his elbows in paperwork, phone wedged into the crook of his shoulder. “Is there someone who speaks English?” Ray heard as he approached. “No. English. … Anglais. … What’s that about twelve? Call back at twelve? Was that…? … Hello? What? … I don’t… … Is – there – someone – who – speaks… … Yes! Fetch them, chercher, yes, oui, merci.” Stan screwed an exasperated hand into his hair as if he wanted to pull a bunch out at the roots through sheer frustration. Ray came to his side and peered at the scrawled notes he’d made on the list of possible witnesses. “Sorry I’m late.” “You know what really pisses me off? I figure they all speak perfect English behind our backs.” Ray chuckled and laid a friendly hand on Stan’s shoulder, giving it the merest hint of a squeeze. There it was again: the theme to the X-Files was playing in Stan’s head. Ray Vecchio had breached his own exclusion zone and made contact. “No luck?” “We’re crossing over with Fraser’s officers’ enquiries but I didn’t want to stop until I spoke to you.” Ray patted Stan’s shoulder before taking off his coat, throwing it onto the rack and moving to his own desk. “You think they’re missing anything?” Stan gestured to a file on Ray’s desk. “Not going by the reams of faxes they’ve sent covering this stuff.” Ray checked the file’s contents – very thorough – and nodded. “Give it up then.” Stan hurled the receiver into its cradle. “Done!” “Shouldn’t you…” Stan peered and Ray gave up before he started. “Never mind.” Ray fetched them both some coffee and settled down to look through the information from Tuktoyaktuk. He got up again to retrieve his notebook from his coat, turned back and noticed how Stan was looking at him. “What?” “We gotta push Al. Hard.” Ray shifted uncomfortably. “I’m trying to avoid that.” “I know. You want me to talk to him?” “No.” “Why?” “Because you intimidate him.” “Oh, sure.” “You do.” “That man is too stupid to know when to be intimidated.” “But he’s smart enough to run rings around me and Ben, huh?” “Keeping his trap shut doesn’t need smart. Let me…” “We’ll talk to him together.” “Then he’s sweetheart this and sweetheart that and you’re writing him off so you don’t have to listen to any more of it.” “But if it’s just you he’ll give you anything you want to get you off his case.” Ray’s phone rang he picked up. “Vecchio.” Stan watched his partner’s expression soften and knew it was Ben on the line. “Yeah, I know, I’ve got the faxes. Listen, when you were coming home with Al…” Ray swung his chair so his back was to Stan, dropping his
voice until words were indistinguishable. Stan made up his mind, picked up his
own phone, and called the “Well?” Stan asked. “Well what?” “Well, I don’t wanna know if you scored today so can we talk about the case?” Ray turned his face away and Stan berated himself for embarrassing him before Ray turned back, fighting the remnants of a smile. “I did not need to know that.” “There’s nothing new from Tuktoyaktuk,” Ray reported,
ignoring his partner’s last comment, “but there is a problem inasmuch as Al’s
been insisting he killed Pop even though witnesses place him in “The plane.” “Is just a plane if there’s nothing other than conjecture to tie it to this case.” “But we know.” “We think we know.” “There were no strangers or occasionals on the passenger lists for the regular plane services.” “That’s supporting evidence, not…” “Listen,” Stan interrupted. “I just spoke to Al, asked him to come in later.” Ray glared his true feelings at Stan before offering a conciliatory, “Okay.” “And I spoke to Maria. She says he hasn’t said a word about
what he was doing in “I was taking for granted you being there.” “And she asked me to come over with you tomorrow.” “You say you would?” “I said I would. Ray… Anything you need, just…y’know.” “I know. I appreciate it.” “Red sticking around?” “He’ll be there.” “Good.” “You mean that?” Stan considered, remembered the look on Ray’s face when the Mountie came on the phone. “I mean that.” “That’s something else I appreciate.” Stan accepted the sentiment with a nod. “How long till Al comes in?” “This afternoon at one. So… What d’you wanna do now?” “Think.” “Great. Gives me time to get on with some other case I’ve got a hope in hell of solving.” Stan shoved his current paperwork aside and turned his attention to the pile of files at his elbow, opening the top folder with a satisfied sigh. Breaking and entering with general thuggery; no family, no mob, no uncooperative Italian uncles. Ray watched Stan leave the squad room in pursuit of his latest case, almost wished he was going with him. Then it was back to his notebook, the case file, and the new information from the Mounties. Okay…forensics on the vehicles at the airport were inconclusive: maybe a couple of fibres to match if he could find something to match them to. Not a lot of prints but that made sense: it was damn cold up there, people wore gloves. No prints on the outside of the Lodge window: same argument applied. No new witnesses prepared to come forward – in fact, no witnesses at all. Slightly more positive was that the bullet had been found, confirming it was a .45 they were looking for; now, if they only had a gun to connect it to. Head in hands, Ray mentally worked backwards from the murder to the airport, playing the part of his father, then playing the part of the murderer. He picked through the combination of loose ends and dead ends before attempting to clear his mind, ready to take another route after the next hit of caffeine. Back from the coffee machine he sat in quiet contemplation, scanning the bullpen, taking a first unreserved look at the men he worked with. He’d allowed himself crushes on singers and movie stars in the past, but refused to see ‘real’ men in the same light. Focusing on someone he liked as a person, he tried to see Jack Huey with new eyes, wondered how it would be to touch him in the way he was allowed to touch Ben. Blushing furiously he switched his stare to the desk, unable to cope with the merest hint of a suggestive thought about a colleague. But, he admitted to himself, he had been keenly aware of how Stan’s shoulder had felt beneath his hand earlier, how angular his partner felt in comparison to Ben. He wished he’d paid closer attention when Stan had insisted upon that hug a couple of days back, instead of just being freaked out by proximity and unable to hug him back. Then he thought how pissed Ben would be if he knew what he was thinking, however harmless it was, and he smiled to himself; however much he would protest the opposite, he quite liked Ben green-eyed and irascible with it. Thoughts of the Mountie led to thoughts of how long he was sticking around, progressing to thoughts of Joseph Vecchio’s funeral; it jogged a memory and he rooted around in his diary for a number before picking up the phone. “Hey, Tony, this is Ray Vecchio. I guess you heard about my father? … No, I’m not suggesting you did, not for a second. … No, really don’t be sorry for my loss. … I just wanted… … No, I… … Will you listen! … Thank you. I want you to come to the funeral, to be with Maria. … No, no problem now, those days are over. … You’re welcome at the house, okay? … Sure, ring her now. … That’s okay, I’ll be seeing you around.” Ray hung up the phone and went back to his coffee, feeling unbridled satisfaction. This was freedom. It had taken thirty-four years to get here, but this was freedom. Making Maria happy was freedom; waking up with Ben was freedom. Oh, God, waking up with Benny… “That’s a rare sight.” Ray looked up, a question on his face. “The smile.” “You know, Elaine, I’ve just figured it out. My father was a great man.” “I hope you’re joking, otherwise you need sectioning.” “I mean it. Not only did he have the decency to get himself killed, he got himself killed in just the right place.” Elaine caught on immediately and her grin mirrored Ray’s. “So, you wanna come to a funeral and celebrate?” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Al turned up a half-hour before Stan was back and Ray took him to an interview room, sitting them both at the table and resolving himself to getting nowhere fast. “Stan said one. You’re early.” “He did? Thought he said twelve.” “Then you’re late.” “Never you mind, Sweetheart, we can catch up.” “I don’t want to catch up, I want some answers.” “Hey, y’know, Ray, me too.” “You too, huh?” “Like, you sort it out with the Sarge? Nice guy.” “That’s right, he is a nice guy. I can make a call, get him in here if you’d rather talk to him.” “We talked all the way from Tukaluptup. You sort things out with him?” Ray was up and pacing. “What am I supposed to have sorted, Al? I want to know who killed Pop and there’s no-one in either country who’ll give me the time of day on it. That’s all I’m trying to sort.” “Okay, please yourself, Sweetheart.” “Will you stop—” Ray took a step back and a deep breath. “Can you not call me that here, Al? Please.” “Why? Never a truer word…” “’Cause if you don’t stop I’m gonna have to beat you senseless to protect my own sanity.” Al chuckled and regarded Ray fondly. “Hard to change at my age. And you been my special kid, like, forever.” “Yeah, I know,” Ray conceded gently. “You’re looking well, that’ll make your sisters happy.” “Al…why didn’t you want me to go to Frankie on this?” “I just want you to keep away from him, to be safe. You being safe is all I ever wanted, and he’s got some tricky guys working for him.” “Was it Frankie who sent you to “No, I went on my own to kill Joey.” Although Ben had told Ray about this confession it seemed more ludicrous than ever hearing it from Al with his own ears. “You killed Pop,” Ray patiently confirmed. “On my own.” “But when me and Sergeant Fraser picked you up in Canada, you denied any knowledge of Pop’s death.” “Yeah, it was a shock.” “Make your mind up. How did you know Pop was dead?” “You told me.” “And you didn’t flinch, so you already knew, especially as you apparently killed him.” “Maybe I didn’t flinch because I wasn’t sad. How could I be sad when he’s treated you so bad. That rhymes.” “Did you kill him or not?” Al considered. “What makes it better?” “You not lying. Is this about Frankie?” Al leant forward in his seat. “You went to Frankie, I heard. He got shot in the leg.” “That was one of his own guys screwing up.” “You know they had to cut it off?” Ray’s stomach lurched. “What!” “Or was that his pants? Between you and me he fusses about his clothes but he don’t have your class, Sweetheart. That’s a nice shirt, suits you. Nice colour.” “It’s a plain white shirt, it doesn’t take much wearing.” “You won’t take a compliment…” “Al, stop now.” “You want me to—” “Al…” “I should—” “Al!” Al mimed zipping his lips shut and sat still, paying close attention to the cop. “Will you think for a second about what you’ve heard and nod if Frankie is still a biped?” Al looked blank. “If he still has two legs.” Al made a great show of thinking before nodding heartily. “Okay. Unzip.” Al unzipped his mouth. “Let’s suppose you killed Pop. Tell me why.” “I lost some stuff on a run and he was giving me up.” “You’ve lost stuff before?” “Sure.” “Why didn’t you kill Pop then?” Before Al could answer the door opened and Stan came in, throwing Ray an apologetic look as he grabbed a chair from the perimeter of the room and brought it to beside his partner, setting it with its back to the table and sitting astride it. “I thought I’d be back before now.” “He was early.” “Good to see you, Al.” “You let yourself down, “Through his teeth when it suits him.” “You’re a nice boy but you’ll get a reputation.” “Yeah, that’s what I’m working on.” The partners exchanged a wry, here we go smile. “Okay, Al, it’s not good to see you, you’re a pain in the ass.” “Was that so hard?” “Al was about to tell me why he murdered Pop. Al?” “Right. He never said he was giving me up before.” “Up till then when you lost stuff he protected you from the Zukos?” “Something like that.” Ray glanced at Stan, offered him the floor. “In the past we’ve seen the Zukos losing trucks full of drugs through lawful intervention. Sometimes the couriers got away. We never heard of them being punished for losing their haul, ‘specially since Frankie took over from his father.” “That’s right, Frankie understands stuff like that.” “You couldn’t have lost that much so why were you afraid of Joey giving you up?” “Very clever. You think I’m walking into that?” “Answer the question.” Al attempted to think his way through; it was painful to watch. “Al, can you just forget this and be honest with me?” Ray asked quietly. “Keep lyin’ like this and you’ll get a reputation,” Stan added. Al got the joke, pointing at Stan with a chuckle. “That’s good.” “You were in “To kill Joey.” “You didn’t exactly sneak into the country, we have a paper trail from your credit card all the way. That sound like an assassin?” “I went to kill Joey, wasn’t thinking about the rest.” “Then why didn’t you go to Tuktoyaktuk? How the hell did you even know he was there? Why was he there?” Al knew his limitations and had given up thinking; he sat looking an infuriating cross between blank and uneasy. “You know what this is doing to Ray?” Stan suddenly demanded, making both of the other men jump. “You say he’s your favourite, he’s your sweetheart, but you’re breaking his heart and you don’t care.” “Now, that’s…” “It’s true, Al. You think he wants to see you go down for this, see the actual killer get away with it? You think he’s gonna be able to live with himself if it happens?” Ray watched Al waver, caught between affection and whatever deal he had struck to take the fall. The old man’s confusion tore at Ray, and he couldn’t bear to see any more of it. “Get out of here,” he told Al defeatedly. “Just get out.” “I can go?” Al asked hopefully, sounding for all the world like a small child on the verge of getting away with something big. “Ray…” Stan began to protest, only to be silenced with a look he hadn’t seen for a long time, a look that put him on the outside. Al hurriedly rose, trying to make it out before either cop could change their mind. He scurried to Ray, planted a kiss on the top of his head, ignoring the cringe. “You’re a good boy,” he muttered, and was gone. The atmosphere was leaden. Stan rose and heavy-handedly returned the chair to its spot by the wall. “I could’ve got something,” he threw at Ray accusingly. “I could’ve guilted it out of him. I was just warming up.” “I know.” Ray stood and headed for the door. “You saw his face. He’s a sucker for you, few more sob stories and I’d’ve had him.” Ray spun back. “Yeah, but you were right and you don’t get it. This is breaking my heart. And it’s not breaking over Pop.” Stan watched Ray leave, felt his irritation leave with him. He sat back down and tried to figure out where the mark was, and when, exactly, he’d overstepped it. … Ray collected his coat, keys and notebook, and redirected his thoughts. Firing up the Riv, all he wanted on his mind was the route to the Consulate and a calculation of how fast he could liberate his Mountie. At his destination Ben was out of the building before Ray was out of the car, climbing in and tossing his Stetson onto the dashboard. His left hand went to Ray’s thigh, stroking proprietarily, enjoying the sensation of the muscles flexing as Ray drove. “How was your morning?” “Stan pulled Al in. I went through the motions, really wasn’t happy.” “Mmm. The frown’s back.” “I’m starting to think they’re right.” “They?” “Welsh, Stan. Maybe I shouldn’t be on this case. I keep giving these knee-jerk reactions and if I was on the outside looking in I’d be telling Welsh to reassign me. Stan was ready to go to work on Al, and there’s a chance he could have got something out of him. But I saw on Al’s face that he was in trouble and I let him go.” “Ray…you do really want to find your father’s killer?” Ray was silent for a short while. “I’ve wondered about that. When I walked away from Frankie I thought about what he’d said: that if he had killed Pop I’d owe him some big favour. And Frankie was better to me yesterday than the old man ever was. I can’t believe I’m saying this but, if I found out now that he’d done it I’d be tempted to look the other way.” “But you wouldn’t.” “I don’t think I would,” Ray sighed. “I am so, so confused, Benny, I’m scaring myself.” “You’re still a good cop. Stop pushing yourself so hard, give yourself space to think.” “I must be missing stuff left, right and centre.” “But I’m not, and I doubt that Stan is. You’re not alone in this.” Ray glanced sideways at the Mountie’s concerned face, felt and fought the urge to blurt out dozens of thank yous interspersed with dozens more I love yous. When he stopped at a red light he gave up on glancing and just stared at Ben. It took only seconds for Ben to feel the weight of that gaze and turn to Ray with a comforting smile. “You’re not alone in this, Ray,” he reiterated Ray grabbed Ben’s hand where it lay on his thigh and squeezed it tightly, letting a couple of the thank yous emerge, but keeping the love yous to himself. Another mutual smile, soft and knowing, was shared, before they both turned to face front as the lights changed to green. It was only moments until they were in Ray’s apartment, and Ben was stripping off Ray’s clothes as they kissed their way to the bedroom, throwing the cop onto the bed and shedding his own uniform under the gaze of hungry eyes. “Know what, Detective?” Ray gave a quick shake of the head. “You’re going to fuck me now. I will be your mountee and you will get your man.” “You are so corny,” Ray laughed, welcoming the hot, naked form into his arms, accepting the further barrage of kisses. “Know what else?” “What else?” Ben took a deep breath, gently ran his fingers over Ray’s throat, down to his collar-bone. “Everything is going to be all right.” Ray nodded, in the moment no longer afraid to believe. Their eyes admitted to one another what their voices hadn’t the courage to say, and as their lips met again it was nothing less than a tender confirmation of love. … Ray’s head was in the clouds; he was unaware of Stan’s eyes fixing on him as he finally strolled back into work that afternoon. Stan was conscious of the change in Ray’s body language, the lack of stress there, and it didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure it out. Waiting until Ray was seated and had his nose back in his notebook he wandered over, clearing his throat. Ray looked up with a relaxed smile: it was the closest Stan had ever seen to a happy face on Ray and he stared in amazed silence for a moment before he shook himself and got some words out. “I feel bad about earlier.” “Earlier?” Ray asked vaguely. “Oh, with Al. It’s okay. Really.” “I forgot your feelings there for a minute. Too busy working myself up.” “Don’t worry about it. I’m not.” Evidently. “See the Mountie when you were out?” “I saw the Mountie.” “And he made it all better?” “Yeah. Yeah, kinda. Maybe I’m a fool but he tells me everything’s gonna be all right and I believe him.” The expression became more serious. “I need that, Stan. Y’know, I keep feeling like I’m losing it.” Stan pulled the guest chair close to Ray and sat. “You’re not losin’ it.” “That’s what Ben says, and he reminds me he’s there for me, you’re there for me, that nothing is gonna get by all three of us.” “He’s right,” Stan assured, “he’s right.” “He said I should go and see Frankie in the hospital. Yeah, I knew you’d get that look on your face.” “What look?” “The fuck off look. But I think he could be right.” “Let me go with you. I know you’ll wanna take Red, but…” “I was thinking more of going by myself.” “I’m going with you.” There was a note in Stan’s voice that left no room for argument and it certainly helped that Ray didn’t want to try starting one. “I’m going tonight. Come to me for dinner and we’ll go from there.” Ray went back to his notebook and the frown appeared, unconsciously making him more familiar to Stan. “I can’t be bothered with this shit now. What’s on your desk? Can we go chase a mugger or something?” “Sure. Let’s get outta here.” Stan returned to his desk and began flicking through the ongoing case files. Ray slapped the notebook shut and threw it into the top drawer of his desk. It could wait; his father wasn’t exactly going anywhere. … It was just before seven. Stan cautiously let himself into Ray’s apartment, worried about interrupting…well…anything. But all he walked in on was Ray’s voice in the kitchen regaling Ben with the scene that had been played out that afternoon. “…and all I’m thinking is not the Riv, not the Riv, not the Riv, ‘cos it’s only a month since the last repair job on the bodywork, and I’m wishing I’d parked in the street not the alley and Stan’s doing twenty I told you so’s a minute which is so damned irritating when I know he’s right. So, we wait for our moment and leap out from behind these dumpsters, and Stan shouts, ‘Police, freeze’, but me, I’m, ‘Shoot my car and you’re fucking dead’. I couldn’t believe it had come out of my mouth.” Stan couldn’t discern the words of Ben’s chuckled response. “The thing was, they were about to run when Stan shouted, but when I screamed that they both stopped dead in their tracks and looked at me like, respect due. Then they both sorta leant sideways and looked round us to see the car, and the little ratty guy says, ‘That heap o’ junk? You’d kill me over that heap o’ junk.’” “Never insult a man’s wife or his car,” Ben stated categorically. “Oh, yeah.” Ray noticed Stan in the kitchen doorway and gave him a smile. “I was just telling…” “I heard.” Stan and Ben acknowledged one another with nods before Ben looked back to Ray. “You arrested them?” “We arrested them. Stan gets to the little guy and has him up against the wall and he turns to me and says, ‘You want him to apologise to your car?’. I’m fuming one minute and next he says that and I can’t stop laughing.” “I woulda made him, you only had to say.” “I know, and that just made it funnier.” Enjoying the memory, Ray turned his back on them to attend to the food on the stove. “How was your day?” Stan asked Ben as he took a seat at the table, feeling like a student in a social skills class. “Okay. Providing you take the total ass in charge of the Consulate out of the equation.” Ben went to the refrigerator, bringing back beers for himself and Stan, a soda for Ray. “I’ve been trying to figure out how Al knew when to go to the plane site. If he was tipped off we haven’t been able to find out how yet.” “His digs have a phone?” “There were no calls to the communal phone that coincided with the time he would have needed to leave town.” “Public phone?” “We’ve got records of all the phones in the vicinity: nothing.” “Cell?” “Won’t work in that region.” “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.” “You’d have to understand the size of the area we’re talking about, and how far off the beaten track it is to know why that’s virtually impossible.” “You got a tip-off telling you to go there?” “There was a call to the Inuvik Post informing them of the location of a ditched plane. They contacted me, partly because they didn’t have anyone immediately available to go to the scene, and partly because they knew I was looking for a light plane out of Tuktoyaktuk.” “Who made the call?” “A local Inuit hunter.” “Credentials?” “We haven’t been able to locate him since the call – it’s unlikely there’s anything suspicious about that bearing in mind the lifestyle and area – but he is known locally and is quite reputable.” Ray turned to face them, leaning against the counter. “Can we leave this? I haven’t had a bad head for a day and I want to see if I can get to sunset without pain.” Stan sniggered to himself and sipped his beer. “What?” “We’re going to see Frankie and you’re thinking stress-free evening?” “It’ll be cool.” “You’d be better off staying in with this one and doing lunch again.” Ray flinched and turned back to the stove. Stan glanced surreptitiously at Ben to see how far he’d pushed his luck; the Mountie was grinning, gaze fixed with open affection on Ray. As much as it mollified Stan’s worries over Ray being hurt, it stirred new concerns: if Ben was sticking around, how much longer could this new relationship remain private? They were surrounded by detectives after all and, as much as it irked him, Stan knew that tolerance might be in short supply. One more thing to damage Ray when he already had too much trauma on his plate. “You going public?” Stan asked as casually as he could, standing and crossing to Ray, being painfully aware of Ray taking a step aside to preserve the exclusion zone. Ray hesitated before answering. “I, umm… That bother you?” “It’s so…” “Stupid?” “…brave.” Ray stopped what he was doing and looked at Stan, confused. “Brave?” Stan nodded. Ray went back to stirring the food. “I’m not brave. I just… I just want a life. I think I deserve a life where I’m not afraid to be me. After everything he…he…” Ray’s voice dropped from low to non-existent, and the quality of it gave Stan goosebumps. He wondered if Ray had ever been voted man most likely to slit his wrists. Returning to the table he looked pointedly at Ben, who received the message loud and clear but also remembered Ray pushing him aside because of Stan’s presence the previous day. “Ray?” “Mmm?” “Look at me.” Ray braced himself before starting to turn then thought better of it. “Are you all right?” Ray considered that. Swallowed. “No. No, I’m not.” And Ben was there, pulling Ray into his arms. Stan saw the Mountie step straight into the zone without being rebuffed, without needing to argue, beg or coerce. Taking his beer, Stan left them to it, going into the living room and turning on the TV, pointed at it but not watching as his mind dwelt on how close he was and wasn’t to his best friend. He didn’t feel jealous of Ben. He felt inadequate and sad. Very sad. “What’s wrong?” Ben whispered. “My father,” Ray whispered back, voice hitching. “What about him?” “He’s dead. My father’s dead.” There wasn’t an answer to that. Ben kissed Ray’s cheek, and held him tighter still. … Dinner was understandably late, so when Ray and Stan left for the hospital it was in a hurry. They were almost out of the apartment door when Ray stopped, dithered, self-consciously went back to kiss Ben goodbye. “Sorry about that,” he apologised as he and Stan descended the stairs to the street. “We gonna have the grossed, not grossed fight again?” “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. But I had to say goodbye. What if I come back later and he’s just…gone.” “He ain’t gonna do that.” “It’s what I did to him.” Stan stopped in his tracks. “You ran out on him?” Ray turned about his descent and climbed back up to Stan. “Can we move? We’re already late.” “If we’re already late what’s a couple more minutes?” Ray pointedly looked at his watch. “Quit being so damned anal.” “Oh, funny,” Ray glared, taking Stan’s arm and manoeuvring him down the remaining stairs. “I didn’t mean… Ooh, look, Ray, you’re touching me. You wanna let go before I contaminate your airspace?” Ray’s hand shot away. Stan came to an immediate halt. “That was a joke.” “You’re the fucking joke, Kowalski. Now move your ass or I’m going without you.” “So what happened in “I told you.” “‘It’s what I did to him.’ That’s telling me, is it?” Ray took a deep, deep breath. “We had this one night together. I expected him to be around when I woke up but he was gone and I had to come home so I just wrote a note and left.” “Where was he?” “Work. We were…awake till gone three and I slept late.” “He have to go in?” “Yeah, to meet the Coroner.” “Did he know you were leaving?” Ray hesitated. “I’d let him believe I was staying around.” “He leave you a message?” “Yeah.” “Nice message?” Ray nodded. “Assuming he’d see you later
because you were sticking around?” Ray nodded again. “You give him what’s
tantamount to a brush-off and he comes running to Ray nodded for a third time, catching the look Stan gave him out of the corner of his eye. “I’m a screw-up,” Ray groaned. “That’s hard on you, Buddy. But yes, yes, you are.” “You think he’ll up and go then?” “You’re kidding, right?” “Maybe if he had a good reason: work…” “Well, maybe then, ‘cos we know what it’s like. And he runs a department.” “Detachment, it’s called a detachment.” “Detachment. What with the murder.” “He should be there now, he shouldn’t be here. God, I hope he doesn’t just up and go,” Ray finished quietly. “Ray…you know what you asked me when I was leaving town? The three day question?” “Forget that. I shouldn’t have said that.” “When you asked me I jumped to conclusions and I answered what I answered.” “So?” “You weren’t talking about him being in love with you, were you? It was about you being in love with him.” Ray took a full minute to answer. “Want to tell me I’m every kind of fool under the sun?” “No. But… Don’t matter.” “But what?” “When he goes back to This time two minutes passed as Ray formulated his monosyllabic reply. “No.” “You can cope with that?” “Ben thinks we’ll be okay.” “Yeah, but long distance relationships. Well, y’know…” “No, I don’t know, how could I know? You want me to draw on my vast experience? Oh, that’s right, I have none, I’m kinda fucked here.” “Don’t take it out on me.” “Well, shut up reminding me of things I don’t want to think about.” “Okay. I won’t say another word, okay?” “Okay.” “Okay.” The vow of silence didn’t last more than a block. “How’s this gonna go with Frankie? What are we looking for?” “We are not looking for anything. I am going to pay a visit to an old friend in hospital.” “What’s goin’ on?” “I just told you.” “Ray…” “You wanna get out and walk, … Ray had experienced less difficulty getting into high-security prisons than he had getting to see Frankie alone. The staff were fine, but Charlie took some getting past, and Stan had to draw his shield and turn hyper-mean before one particular bodyguard would be persuaded to wait in the hall. Finally the room fell quiet. Ray stood alone at the end of the bed surveying Frankie, who had remained eyes closed and apparently, yet impossibly, asleep throughout the fracas. He considered sitting and waiting, he contemplated leaving without a word. Instead, Ray did exactly what he had done when Frankie busted his ankle when he was nine. He dug his finger hard into the site of the problem. Frankie stopped playing possum and with a gasping, pained laugh, slapped Ray’s hand away. “That hurt?” Ray grinned. “You shit, Vecchio!” Frankie tried for a straight face but it wouldn’t happen. He caught the offending hand and squeezed it. “You know it came back to me earlier. The ankle was bad enough, but those damn bruises you gave me!” “You were such a wimp it was irresistible.” “You’d always looked after me; all of a sudden you were torturing me.” Frankie squeezed Ray’s hand again, surprised that Ray would let him, unsurprised that the cop slid his hand away immediately afterwards. “Nothing much’s changed, huh, Ray?” Frankie cautiously shuffled sideways to make room and Ray sat on the edge of the bed. “We may’ve been at odds for years but when it comes to it, we’re still us. No matter what those old bastards said and did, we’re still us.” “I’ve been thinking about that.” “You too?” “Yeah. Something Ben said.” “Ben?” “Ben Fraser. He’s the Canadian investigating officer on Pop’s case.” “Oh, right, the Mountie.” “The Mountie.” Frankie’s voice became conspiratorial. “Hey, Ray, is it true? You and the Mountie…” Frankie left the sentence hanging suggestively. Ray looked at him, open-mouthed. “How would you know… You having me followed?” “I wanted you to stay safe after this, got someone to keep an eye on you. Give you a tip, Ray? Get smoked glass for the Riv.” “You had me followed?” Frankie grinned mischievously. “You and the scarecrow ever…” “No! And I am not admitting a thing about the Mountie. Can we get back to you having me followed?” “Like I said: safety measure. Some people, they’d hear about the shooting, hear this cop was involved, want to deal with it. I was making sure you stayed in one piece until things settled down.” “They should have been looking after you.” “Don’t look so damn guilty, it wasn’t your fault.” “If I hadn’t been there it wouldn’t have happened.” “You think? We’re talking a matter of time. All those guns, sooner or later there would have been an ‘accident’,” Frankie concluded with air quotes. “No, Frankie…” “I saw it on their faces: the wish that you hadn’t been around so they could have left me to bleed to death.” “Ah, no.” “You did me a favour, Ray. Showed me a few truths I hadn’t wanted to see. Let’s just say I’m now in the middle of some restructuring.” “Something else Ben said.” “Yeah, well, it’s what I have to do. We’re not at school now: you’re not always gonna be around to look after me. Unless you want a job?” One scorching glare from Ray was enough. “Maybe not. So, you here for a reason?” “You going be well enough for the funeral?” “Marco told me I wasn’t gonna be welcome because of you.” “Marco,” Ray sneered. “What does he know?” “Don’t blame him, it’s gonna be what Frannie told him to say.” “I want you there. You and… You keeping Charlie?” “No choice,” Frankie replied grimly. “You and Charlie. No-one else, I don’t want some mob presence, okay?” “I may need a hand, I’m gonna be in a chair.” “No-one else. If it comes to it I’ll look after you.” “That’d be good. I’ve kinda missed you pushing me around.” Ray smiled and glanced at the wall clock. Visiting hours were almost up. “Sorry I got here so late. I better go. Let you get some rest.” “Oh, sure.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothin’. Not for a second hinting you want to be out of here because you’ve got some flashy Canuck waiting for you at home.” Ray gave Frankie an old-fashioned look and rose, pointed finger poised at stabbing distance over Frankie’s wound for just a second before letting his hand be slapped away. He fished a card from his pocket, tossing it onto Frankie’s lap. “That’s my cell number. You can call me whenever.” Frankie picked up the card and studied it thoughtfully. A sharp rap on the door and Stan poked his head into the room. Frankie’s demeanour changed instantly, solemn to cheery. “Yo, Scarecrow!” “Frankie.” “I have to thank you.” “Don’t bother. Really. Don’t bother. You are not welcome, it was not my pleasure. Ray, we getting outta here? Company’s pretty rank.” “On my way.” Ray waited, staring pointedly at Stan until he got the message and withdrew with an expression of exasperation. “Is he hard work?” “He’s great. Drives me to distraction, but that’s mutual.” Frankie studied Ray, a searching gaze that made Ray’s skin itch. “What’s happening here, Ray?” “What do you mean?” “I just…I d’know…I feel like something’s happening.” “No,” Ray lied. “I needed to know you were okay.” Frankie waited curiously. “See, at that moment it wasn’t Frank Zuko, extortionist, drug importer, murderer, all-round scumbag getting shot. It was my pal Frankie, who told me bad jokes in the tree house, gave me beer that made me sick, hid behind me in the playground, thanked God for Carlo and Michael because third in line meant he’d never have to be a part of the family business and make the kind of bloody decisions his father made.” “Yeah. I said that. And you remember, after all this time?” “Said I’d been thinking.” Ray took another look at the wall clock, thought of Stan building up a head of steam. “Look, I gotta go.” “You gonna keep thinking?” There was a pause that couldn’t decide whether to be awkward or not, and eventually Ray ended it by offering his right hand to Frankie. Frankie took it with his left, turning a formal gesture into something more friendly. “See you Friday. Just you and Charlie, or the whole party gets turned away.” Frankie nodded obediently, and with a poignant smile, Ray left. Frankie stared at the card, turning it over and over in his hands. “Everything okay?” came from the doorway and Frankie jumped. “Jesus, Charlie, don’t creep up on a man!” “You okay?” “Oh, yeah. You know me.” “Sure, Frankie. I know you.” Charlie withdrew as silently as he’d appeared and Frankie was left alone with his fears. Plus a small rectangle of card that made him feel ever-so-slightly safer. … During the drive back to his apartment, Ray began to talk. Stan sat in silent astonishment as his famously taciturn partner launched into tale after tale of a misspent youth, mostly misspent with Frankie Zuko. The good humour was infectious and, after fighting it for half the ride, Stan gave up and allowed Ray to speak affectionately of his childhood friend without every word being met by a disapproving scowl. “You coming up?” Ray asked as he parked. “You know…that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in four years.” “Doesn’t answer my question.” “No. You and Red…” “He’s not pushing you out, Stan, that is not happening,” Ray said adamantly. “I’m gonna be here when he’s gone. Make the most of what time you’ve got.” Ben had seen the Riv pull up and was waiting, gripping the door handle as Ray approached. Listening to the footsteps in the hallway, Ben was able to swing open the door so Ray could sweep in without faltering, and sweep he did. “It went well?” Ben shut the door and leant against it, watching Ray fall into his habitual pacing. “You were right, Benny.” Ray threw his coat over the back of the couch mid-pace. “I took your advice and I’ve started sorting out something that should have been dealt with years – a whole damn decade – ago.” Ray rattled off an account of his conversation with the mob boss and Ben listened carefully, nodding sagely. “What do you think then? It’s a start, right? Is it a screw-up? Am I a screw-up?” Ben intercepted Ray as he attempted to pass, stopping him in his tracks and taking hold of his shoulders. “You are no screw-up, Ray Vecchio.” “You think?” “I know.” “See though? All this and no headache. Inside I feel right. I think. No, I know.” “Are you going to fidget like this all night?” “Probably.” Ben moved in closer. “Then I’ll have to devise a way to wear you out.” “Yeah, Benny, please.” Ray grabbed two handfuls of t-shirt and pulled Ben hard against him, whispering against his ear. “Please. Show me more. I want everything before you go.” “Don’t talk about that,” Ben said painfully. “I can’t think about that.” “You know what? I can cope with when you go because I’m pig-headedly focused on while you’re here.” Ben drew back slightly to see Ray’s face. “How are you going to feel the day after I leave? The hour, the minute?” Ray didn’t need to answer verbally. “That damned frown,” Ben said tightly, slipping a hand behind Ray’s head and tilting it forward so he could kiss the furrowed skin. “I’m going to be in Tuktoyaktuk, trying to get on with a life I’m not sure I want any more because you’re not in it for every second, and all I’m going to be able to think about is this frown.” “No, it’s not,” Ray assured as he eased his head up against the pressure of Ben’s hand. “You’ll remember us together, how good it's been. You’ll remember how we brought each other back from the living dead, and then you’ll think about the next time we’ll be together.” “Promise?” “I’m gonna be on that phone every day, talking filth and making sure.” Ben chuckled. “Funny how things change.” “How so?” “That was the speech I thought I’d be making to you when I left.” Ray tilted his head and gently touched his lips to Ben’s, feeling the Mountie lean into the kiss, deepening it, moaning softly in his throat, the sound and its associations having a rapid effect on Ray. “You want to put that on tape for me?” Ray smiled against Ben’s mouth. “Mmm?” “That noise you make.” “What noise?” “You don’t know you’re doing it,” Ray laughed gently, kissing Ben until the moan resurfaced. “Oh, that,” Ben acknowledged between kisses. “That’s new.” “I hear that and it’s about kissing you and touching you. It’s about you wanting me, and me having you. It’s about what I’ve waited a lifetime for.” Ben hugged Ray to him, burying his face in the cop’s neck. “I don’t deserve this.” “You told me: unwanted and unworthy.” The Mountie’s face came back up. “You remember that?” “I remember every word you’ve said to me. I’ve been holding on and holding on to every one. I tell you, Benny, if I can force myself to stop thinking every good word is a line, then you can force yourself to think wanted and worthy.” “If I have to force myself…” “It’s a start.” “It’s dishonest.” “It makes us workable while we’re both so neurotic. You’ve taken a lot for granted today but you think I’m all better because I’ve stopped showing so many insecurities? I could drive you away by letting it all out, I almost did yesterday. You taught me, Benny, but you don’t know it yourself. You have to know it. How can you not believe you’re wanted? Think I can keep my hands off of you, my thoughts off of you for a minute? All day, Benny, all day you’re with me and in me. You’re here…” Ray tenderly kissed Ben. “You’re here…” He found Ben’s hand and pressed it to his chest. The Mountie felt Ray’s heart furiously pounding beneath his palm and realised how much courage it was taking for Ray to express these sentiments. “Stan was right about you.” Ray looked a question. “You’re incredibly brave.” Ray gave a brief laugh, embarrassed by receiving the unlikely compliment twice in one day. “I’m incredibly desperate.” “Don’t shrug it off.” “It doesn’t fit.” “And people call me stubborn.” “Benny… If I’m brave, if somehow that’s true, it’s what
you’ve made me. This time last week I didn’t know you and I was a different
man. Even at a distance my father was the greatest influence on me. He’d
guaranteed that I would stay ostracised from my family, downtrodden at work,
scared to reach out and make a friend without the process needing a
battlefield. You may’ve thought you were just making a pass at the cop from “I hurt you. I know how much.” “You made me feel. It was…” Ray groped for exactly the right word. “…exhilarating to feel that pain, to feel something other than resignation that life was going to be flat and empty and without passion until the day I let myself get shot down in the street because I didn’t care enough about that nothing existence to take cover.” The mental picture made Ben shudder and Ray stroked the image away. “Not now, not now.” “We have to go to bed. I have to make love to you,” Ben murmured, the softness of his tones doing nothing to dilute the urgency in his voice. “This minute? In the middle of this conversation?” When this coward is trying to get to ‘I love you’? “I don’t have the right words. Let me show you how I feel.” “Benny, you’ve shown an awful lot of guys how you feel,” Ray pointed out as inoffensively as possible. “Can I finish what…” “I’ve only ever made love to you, Ray,” Ben assured him earnestly. “I’ve fucked a lot of people, but I’ve only ever made love to you.” Awed, Ray stared at the Mountie, believing that those words were the closest he would hear to an admission of love. Never losing touch they gravitated toward the bedroom. Of course Ben would get what he wanted, Ray privately accepted. As if there were ever any doubt. Ben had used the best line yet.
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