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ds_slashOkay, so I posted the first part of this apparent story line *here* but never posted the second part of a three part story because of a 20 page term paper I finished two weeks ago.
Yes, I'm a freak. And I suck. I know.
So, without further delay, here's the next part... with more to come.
Title: Truths
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
audaxfemina
Rating: I knew this kind of language at 15. :)
Pairing: F/K preslash. They haven't been hit by the clue bus yet.
Summary: 2PoVs: Fraser comes to his senses, and begins to track his friend. The truth is, I am no fool, but I am an idiot.
The quarry is tracked down. This proverbial night was going to more than proverbially suck.
It would be exceptionally untruthful of me to say that I noticed Ray Kowalski’s departure from the 27th Precinct that night. I can’t say that anyone did, except perhaps Lt. Welsh. The rest of us, Diefenbaker included, were caught up in celebrating Ray Vecchio’s unexpected return. That was until both Ray and Francesca insisted on taking me out to dinner to continue the reunion.
When I had finally looked around so as to introduce my two best friends to one another, it was only then that I realized the familiar blond I had grown exceptionally accustomed to was no longer in attendance.
To my utmost horror, I realized that it had been nearly an hour, regaling Ray Vecchio with stories of our times apart. From his current position, lying mostly below Ray’s desk, Diefenbaker had fixed me with a pointed glare. No vocalizations were necessary, that much was certain.
Of course, Diefenbaker was never restrained by necessity. And his grammar is positively atrocious when he is emotional, meaning it took me a few moments to puzzle through his accusation.
It’s not in his nature to use astronomical occurrences as analogies, however as I worked it out, the statements made sense. ‘Simply because the Northern Lights are in the sky does not mean that the stars cease to shine.’
I excused myself politely, stepping to the phone on Ray’s desk, dialing the familiar number of Ray Kowalski’s cell phone.
The fact that instantaneous ringing emitted from the top desk drawer was not lost on me. The truth is, I am no fool, but I am an idiot. It was Ray Vecchio’s phone number, and the instant that the original Ray Vecchio returned, the copy ceased to be. Nearly everything had been meant to be left behind.
Like a snake had shed its skin, Ray Kowalski had shed Ray Vecchio, leaving me with my friend.
What on Earth had so possessed him to walk away without so much as a word, I am not certain I’ll want to know.
But I will ask him.
And I will have an answer.
***
Three sheets to the wind. Why the hell it was called that, maybe that crazy Mountie lady with the sword would know. He knew Fraser would, but Fraser wasn’t here.
Whatever the hell it meant, he was three sheets to something. After this much beer, it would have sucked to find that it didn’t work. The world was deliciously blurred around the edges, and as he picked up the newly bought pack of cigarettes from the ground beside him, Ray looked at the sky above the lake.
Three nearly empty containers from a Chinese restaurant sat on the ground, a plastic fork was still stuck in the rice, and the bottle of beer was beginning to sweat, from about halfway down, even in the rather chilled night air.
Ray fumbled a bit with the disposable lighter before he got the cigarette lit, but it glowed in the early night, as the last bit of sunlight slipped below the western horizon far behind him. Hell if he knew why he’d come here, except to maybe convince himself that this is where he should have learned things weren’t forever.
Tapping the cigarette on the edge of the Kung Pao Chicken container, Ray returned his gaze to the sky overhead, which was just beginning to show the first pinpricks of light aside from the moon.
The night sky was a hell of a lot more interesting when he was plowed than it usually was, that was for certain, but then again, when did he actually have the free time to sit and think. One thing was for sure, hockey wouldn’t turn his crank tonight, no amount of Steve McQueen-watching was gonna make him feel good.
Even with the light pollution from the city lights, the sky was clear tonight, and there would be stars. Maybe Ray’d never be able to see all the stars in the sky, but without his glasses, there was no chance of that anyways. Ray only needed the sun. Sun kept ya warm, gave ya light, and when it went away for the night, mankind learned how to make fire, and later, they got electricity. Couldn’t change the fact that the night came, but humanity learned to make do.
Just the same, Ray’d make do, the same way he had when his Gold Coast girl left him. He took a swig of the beer, and once that had made its way down, he chased it with the nicotine. Chinese, cigarettes, beer, and thinking; his last four vices. ‘Cause lusting after the perfect partner wasn’t a vice. Nothing associated with Fraser could be.
So when the hell had his sun become a partner? Stella was his sun. Stella, star, made sense.
This proverbial night was going to more than proverbially suck.
He exhaled, adding to the cloud of smoke that surrounded his head as Ray heard the soft footfall behind him.
“Ray?”
Speak of the star. “Heya Fraser,” he said, picking up his beer again, watching the last traces of purple fade to black.
“I tried calling your cellular phone, and your apartment phone, but you didn’t answer either of them,” the Mountie said, approaching slowly, and sans-mutt.
“Figured I’d eat al pesco or whatever.” Ray waved his arm at the empty ground beside him. “Take a load off if ya want, Frase. What can I do ya for?”
Christ, Fraser even had perfect posture while sitting on the ground. He looked like a statue or something, even in flannel and jeans. Of course he also had that slightly constipated look on his face like Ray’d mixed a meta-whatever, too. “I didn’t see you leave the 27th earlier, and I came to find out if you were alright.”
“M’fine. Seriously, Fraser, what? You forget something over at my place?”
Fraser looked like he’d been physically struck. Again. They were in a good place for that. “What? No, Ray, I didn’t forget anything.”
He leaned back in a bit of a teetering maneuver. “It’s late, Fraser. I’d offer ya something to eat, but I think I got ants.”
With that, he started to get up, hearing the familiar ‘Ray, Ray, Ray…’ as he did so. Ray rolled his eyes, and sat back down. “What, Fraser?” he snapped, rapidly losing patience with his former partner.
“I am well aware of the time, Ray, however I wanted to speak with you as soon as possible.” A subtle sniff led to a quick frown. “Have you been drinking?”
Apparently, that was the funniest thing since the Three Stooges. “Fraser, you really ought to be a detective,” he replied, in the midst of a laughing fit. He picked up each empty bottle individually and handed them one by one to Fraser. "Cause these powers of observation you've got... they're amazing."
“You’re drunk,” his partner observed, somewhat disheartened. “Can you even stand after eight beers?”
“’M’not drunk. I’m hammered.”
“Drunk.”
“Plowed.”
“Drunk.”
“Off my tree.”
“Drunk.”
With that, Ray reached up, covering his former partner’s mouth so that he could finish the sequence uninterrupted. “Plastered, shitfaced, slammed, slaughtered, sloshed, smashed, sozzled, squiffy, three sheets to the wind, tipsy, wasted, and wrecked. That cover it? Moosehead, and here I thought nothing good came out of New Brunswick.”
Fraser frowned, sniffing at Ray’s hand. “Ah.”
“Yeah. Ah. It was really only seven. I spilled most of one over there , can’t ya see? So now that ya know I know all the ways to tell ya I’m drunk, whaddya want, Fraser?” he asked, leaning back on his hands.
“First, perhaps, the keys to the GTO. You should not be driving in your condition.”
Leave it to Fraser to be the only person who could annoy Ray when he should be feeling no pain. “Fraser, if I wanted to put up with my mother, I’d have gone to Skokie and got shitfaced in their trailer.”
Authoritative Mountie glare number 27 seemed to be the response, and Ray, tired of fighting, dug in his pocket for the keys. “I was in a walking mood anyways,” he muttered.
“You left before I could introduce you to Ray Vecchio. You didn’t even say you were leaving.”
“Ya figured that we’d be two happy Ray Vecchio’s in a pod, Frase?” Ray snapped. “He’s *your* partner, you forget that? He was here first, and among my myriad jobs was keeping his life warm for him while he was gone.” His gaze cast itself back out to the lake, and he took another drag on the cigarette, smoking it down to the filter. “You should be happy!” Ray accused, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth with a glare at the Mountie. “You gotcher old buddy Ray Vecchio back in one piece, what more could you possibly want?”
“Ray, why did you leave?” Fraser repeated, trying to keep his voice even, but Ray could tell failure was imminent.
“Because there can’t be two Ray Vecchios at the 2-7. Because no one was supposed to notice me there, notice me leaving. Bringing *any* notice to me lets the bad guys know that there was a reason I was calling myself Ray Vecchio. We do that, he ends up with a bullet to the head, you got that? It’s part of being undercover, Fraser.”
The Mountie paused, blue eyes locked on Ray as he attempted to take a steady inhale, trying to pretend there was no tremble in his hands, no hitch in his breath. “Walking away,” Fraser concluded, voice emotionless.
“Hardest fuckin’ part,” Ray admitted, flicking the ash off the tip of his cigarette. “Learning how close is too close. Knowing that any moment, brass could pull ya, and everything you were, everything you pretended to be vanishes, cause it wasn’t who you were supposed to be in the first place. Stella used to say she didn’t know who I was anymore.” A wry grin cut through the inebriation and settled on Ray’s face. “She wasn’t the only one.”
There was silence between them as Ray pulled a church key from his pocket. “You want a beer, Frase?”
“No, thank you kindly,” Fraser responded, automatically.
“The hardest part is knowing when to let go when everything in your heart is telling you to hang on to what you’ve got with every bit of strength left in your body,” Ray said, shrugging quietly. With the practiced ease of a habitual drinker, he picked up the half-empty beer and took another drink.
The undercurrent of wistful remembrance did not escape Fraser’s notice and he blinked, eyes flickering to Ray’s face. “You’ve never *wanted* to hold on to another man’s life before,” he replied in dawning understanding. “Before you became Ray Vecchio…”
Ray ran his hand through stiff spikes. “Before Vecchio, I was either a good cop on my own name, or a bad guy. Does he have any idea what a lucky SOB he is?” he asked, angrily. “He’s got a family who loves him. He’s got a great job, lots of respect. He’s got a partner that’s a cop’s wet dream. Does he see that? No. Takes it for granted. Takes *you* for fucking granted. People like you don’t grow on trees, you know?”
An eyebrow rub was the first response to that.
“And if you tell me that, no, you *didn’t* grow on a tree, I’ll be seven shades of pissed, Fraser, so you can just save it,” Ray just snapped.
“Understood,” Fraser acknowledged, having barely stopped in time. “Ray, you may not be Ray Vecchio anymore, but that doesn’t mean that you have to give up the friendships you’ve gained during this assignment.”
“Right. And how many of them actually know where I live, what I like on my pizza?” he asked sharply, plunking his bottle down on the ground with an aggressive clink. “Who knows about Ellery, who even said *anything* about my birthday? You’re it, Fraser. They know my name, my face, maybe even they know me as Vecchio, but they don’t know Ray fucking Kowalski.”
Fraser could only seem to sigh. It wasn’t exaggeration and they both knew it. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming…”
“Do you not *get* the concept of undercover, Fraser?” Ray queried, sarcasm dripping from his words. “It means I am not Ray Kowalski, except in private. You’re the only one who’s ever decided to know me in private, okay?”
“So what happens now? You’re planning to walk away?” Fraser asked, now more upset than frustrated.
Ray might have been drinking all night, but by God he could still argue. “It ain’t my *choice*, Fraser! It sure as hell ain’t my life!”
“What do you want to hang onto, Ray?”
That was the question, now, wasn’t it?
“Ray?” Fraser pushed after a few moments’ time.
Finally, the smell of the cigarettes and the Kung Pao chicken conspired to make Ray nauseous. He got up, stalking along the edge of the waterway in order to clear his head.
Fraser got up too, following him. “Please, Ray, tell me.”
As concerned as Fraser was sounding, he wasn’t going away until he figured this out, that much was certain. The soft night breeze brushed against Ray’s face, as a warm hand settled on his shoulder.
Ray raised a hand to his temple, sighing heavily. “Ain’t never had someone like you in my life, Frase,” he admitted slowly.
For a moment, Ray knew that Fraser was thinking about what that had to do with the price of tea in China, but it was the only answer Ray knew how to give, only available with liquid courage. Something clicked, and the hand on Ray’s shoulder squeezed gently. Fraser got it.
“Ain’t that a bitch? I finally get a partner I don’t want to kick in the head nine days out of ten, and he’s someone else’s partner,” Ray said, repressing a bark of laughter. “Brass told me to be your partner. But they never said I had to stand around and watch him take ya back.” He let himself be turned, looking Fraser in the eye as intently as he could, not knocking the hand off his shoulder. “They can tear down the world I had but they can’t make me watch.”
“Do you really think so little of me? Do you honestly think that I’d cease to be your friend once Ray Vecchio returned?” Fraser asked, his voice filled with quiet hurt.
“Fraser, he’s your partner. They stuck you with me when he left, and now he’s back. He’s night, I’m day, he’s bald, I’m blond. We could not *be* more different, and if you think he’s gonna be able to share you with me, you’re kidding yourself. I don’t even know *where* they’re gonna stick me, if they put me back in Vice we ain’t gonna get to be partners, you had to know that.” He sighed, raking his free hand through his hair and looked out at the lake again. “I always figured the Mother Ship would come to its senses and send ya back to the Great Frozen White before Vecchio came back to stay. It’s not that I don’t want ya. It’s that… I didn’t want you to havta choose.”
An expression like nothing Ray had ever seen came over that face. “Because you feared I’d choose him over you.”
"There is no choice!" Ray looked away, not wanting to meet the intensity of his former partner’s gaze. “Fraser, am I not an undercover cop?”
“You are.”
“Do you, or do you not *suck* at lying to people, even for the sake of a cover?”
That received a somewhat rueful smile in return. “I do indeed suck, Ray,” Fraser replied honestly. “But I meant what I said the first day I met you. People are not interchangeable like snowmobile parts. I did not mean to ignore you when Ray Vecchio returned, and for that, I must beg your forgiveness. My behavior tonight was reprehensible.”
“Alright, you said suck and it doesn’t involve a vacuum.” Ray eyed Fraser warily, before holding out his hand. “Give me the keys. You’ve been drinking.”
“Ray, I am being serious. And if you do not consider yourself as anything more than a substitute for Ray Vecchio, then I have greatly wronged someone I consider to be as close or closer to me than anyone ever has been,” Fraser continued, gaining momentum with no small amount of ire. “I long ago began to consider you my friend on your own merits, and I should only hope that you have done the same.”
Ray’s eyes rocketed to Fraser’s face, and his hand dropped. “Jesus, Fraser,” he breathed, paling rapidly in the moonlight. “Of course you’re my friend. You’re the person, the one fucking person I could not have done this without. And I am going to miss you, so fucking much.”
“Did your superiors tell you that you were forbidden to ever see me again?”
Ray shook his head warily.
“Then why the hell did you walk away from me?” Fraser asked, his voice low, and rough with emotion. “Everyone in my entire life has left me, Ray, don’t you understand that? My mother was murdered. My father *abandoned* me, my grandparents died shortly after raising their grandchild, my partner Ray Vecchio left without so much as explaining to me *why*, and now you’re trying to leave me. No. That is it, I must draw the line somewhere.” He grabbed Ray by the jacket, and pulled him close. “You can walk away now, but you are my friend, maybe my best friend and I am not letting you go, Ray. Not now, and not ever. Where you go, I will find you.”
Ray could easily be done in by this sort of admission. “You tracked me across the city within the first week, Frase.”
“And if you believe Dief will allow his donut pipeline to disappear, you will be treated to the full extent of his pursuit skills,” Fraser explained, matter-of-factly. “They are quite formidable when prey is involved.”
Ray had to chuckle at that. “Beware the mighty donut-stealing wolf.”
“Yes, and I left him in your apartment. He was quite put out with my lack of consideration, and he’s going to be insufferable for days, given as he was right. And if you tell him I said that, I will…”
“Tell you what, Frase. You drive the Goat home, turn on the heater, and leave the threats of head-kicking to the professional? Oh, and not like I mind the true confessions, but if you don’t let go of me before I lose dinner off the pier, we’re gonna be in for a rough night.”
Thank God Fraser let go of him in time, because while you were sick, your best friend just might hold the bucket for you, not a one of them actually wanted to *be* the bucket.
***
There will be more to come (I envision at least two more parts), I just have to rope Fraser and Ray into cooperating, and it won't be this weekend, as I'm repainting my living room. Hope you guys like. And please forgive my tardiness. I suck.
Yes, I'm a freak. And I suck. I know.
So, without further delay, here's the next part... with more to come.
Title: Truths
Author:
audaxfeminaRating: I knew this kind of language at 15. :)
Pairing: F/K preslash. They haven't been hit by the clue bus yet.
Summary: 2PoVs: Fraser comes to his senses, and begins to track his friend. The truth is, I am no fool, but I am an idiot.
The quarry is tracked down. This proverbial night was going to more than proverbially suck.
It would be exceptionally untruthful of me to say that I noticed Ray Kowalski’s departure from the 27th Precinct that night. I can’t say that anyone did, except perhaps Lt. Welsh. The rest of us, Diefenbaker included, were caught up in celebrating Ray Vecchio’s unexpected return. That was until both Ray and Francesca insisted on taking me out to dinner to continue the reunion.
When I had finally looked around so as to introduce my two best friends to one another, it was only then that I realized the familiar blond I had grown exceptionally accustomed to was no longer in attendance.
To my utmost horror, I realized that it had been nearly an hour, regaling Ray Vecchio with stories of our times apart. From his current position, lying mostly below Ray’s desk, Diefenbaker had fixed me with a pointed glare. No vocalizations were necessary, that much was certain.
Of course, Diefenbaker was never restrained by necessity. And his grammar is positively atrocious when he is emotional, meaning it took me a few moments to puzzle through his accusation.
It’s not in his nature to use astronomical occurrences as analogies, however as I worked it out, the statements made sense. ‘Simply because the Northern Lights are in the sky does not mean that the stars cease to shine.’
I excused myself politely, stepping to the phone on Ray’s desk, dialing the familiar number of Ray Kowalski’s cell phone.
The fact that instantaneous ringing emitted from the top desk drawer was not lost on me. The truth is, I am no fool, but I am an idiot. It was Ray Vecchio’s phone number, and the instant that the original Ray Vecchio returned, the copy ceased to be. Nearly everything had been meant to be left behind.
Like a snake had shed its skin, Ray Kowalski had shed Ray Vecchio, leaving me with my friend.
What on Earth had so possessed him to walk away without so much as a word, I am not certain I’ll want to know.
But I will ask him.
And I will have an answer.
***
Three sheets to the wind. Why the hell it was called that, maybe that crazy Mountie lady with the sword would know. He knew Fraser would, but Fraser wasn’t here.
Whatever the hell it meant, he was three sheets to something. After this much beer, it would have sucked to find that it didn’t work. The world was deliciously blurred around the edges, and as he picked up the newly bought pack of cigarettes from the ground beside him, Ray looked at the sky above the lake.
Three nearly empty containers from a Chinese restaurant sat on the ground, a plastic fork was still stuck in the rice, and the bottle of beer was beginning to sweat, from about halfway down, even in the rather chilled night air.
Ray fumbled a bit with the disposable lighter before he got the cigarette lit, but it glowed in the early night, as the last bit of sunlight slipped below the western horizon far behind him. Hell if he knew why he’d come here, except to maybe convince himself that this is where he should have learned things weren’t forever.
Tapping the cigarette on the edge of the Kung Pao Chicken container, Ray returned his gaze to the sky overhead, which was just beginning to show the first pinpricks of light aside from the moon.
The night sky was a hell of a lot more interesting when he was plowed than it usually was, that was for certain, but then again, when did he actually have the free time to sit and think. One thing was for sure, hockey wouldn’t turn his crank tonight, no amount of Steve McQueen-watching was gonna make him feel good.
Even with the light pollution from the city lights, the sky was clear tonight, and there would be stars. Maybe Ray’d never be able to see all the stars in the sky, but without his glasses, there was no chance of that anyways. Ray only needed the sun. Sun kept ya warm, gave ya light, and when it went away for the night, mankind learned how to make fire, and later, they got electricity. Couldn’t change the fact that the night came, but humanity learned to make do.
Just the same, Ray’d make do, the same way he had when his Gold Coast girl left him. He took a swig of the beer, and once that had made its way down, he chased it with the nicotine. Chinese, cigarettes, beer, and thinking; his last four vices. ‘Cause lusting after the perfect partner wasn’t a vice. Nothing associated with Fraser could be.
So when the hell had his sun become a partner? Stella was his sun. Stella, star, made sense.
This proverbial night was going to more than proverbially suck.
He exhaled, adding to the cloud of smoke that surrounded his head as Ray heard the soft footfall behind him.
“Ray?”
Speak of the star. “Heya Fraser,” he said, picking up his beer again, watching the last traces of purple fade to black.
“I tried calling your cellular phone, and your apartment phone, but you didn’t answer either of them,” the Mountie said, approaching slowly, and sans-mutt.
“Figured I’d eat al pesco or whatever.” Ray waved his arm at the empty ground beside him. “Take a load off if ya want, Frase. What can I do ya for?”
Christ, Fraser even had perfect posture while sitting on the ground. He looked like a statue or something, even in flannel and jeans. Of course he also had that slightly constipated look on his face like Ray’d mixed a meta-whatever, too. “I didn’t see you leave the 27th earlier, and I came to find out if you were alright.”
“M’fine. Seriously, Fraser, what? You forget something over at my place?”
Fraser looked like he’d been physically struck. Again. They were in a good place for that. “What? No, Ray, I didn’t forget anything.”
He leaned back in a bit of a teetering maneuver. “It’s late, Fraser. I’d offer ya something to eat, but I think I got ants.”
With that, he started to get up, hearing the familiar ‘Ray, Ray, Ray…’ as he did so. Ray rolled his eyes, and sat back down. “What, Fraser?” he snapped, rapidly losing patience with his former partner.
“I am well aware of the time, Ray, however I wanted to speak with you as soon as possible.” A subtle sniff led to a quick frown. “Have you been drinking?”
Apparently, that was the funniest thing since the Three Stooges. “Fraser, you really ought to be a detective,” he replied, in the midst of a laughing fit. He picked up each empty bottle individually and handed them one by one to Fraser. "Cause these powers of observation you've got... they're amazing."
“You’re drunk,” his partner observed, somewhat disheartened. “Can you even stand after eight beers?”
“’M’not drunk. I’m hammered.”
“Drunk.”
“Plowed.”
“Drunk.”
“Off my tree.”
“Drunk.”
With that, Ray reached up, covering his former partner’s mouth so that he could finish the sequence uninterrupted. “Plastered, shitfaced, slammed, slaughtered, sloshed, smashed, sozzled, squiffy, three sheets to the wind, tipsy, wasted, and wrecked. That cover it? Moosehead, and here I thought nothing good came out of New Brunswick.”
Fraser frowned, sniffing at Ray’s hand. “Ah.”
“Yeah. Ah. It was really only seven. I spilled most of one over there , can’t ya see? So now that ya know I know all the ways to tell ya I’m drunk, whaddya want, Fraser?” he asked, leaning back on his hands.
“First, perhaps, the keys to the GTO. You should not be driving in your condition.”
Leave it to Fraser to be the only person who could annoy Ray when he should be feeling no pain. “Fraser, if I wanted to put up with my mother, I’d have gone to Skokie and got shitfaced in their trailer.”
Authoritative Mountie glare number 27 seemed to be the response, and Ray, tired of fighting, dug in his pocket for the keys. “I was in a walking mood anyways,” he muttered.
“You left before I could introduce you to Ray Vecchio. You didn’t even say you were leaving.”
“Ya figured that we’d be two happy Ray Vecchio’s in a pod, Frase?” Ray snapped. “He’s *your* partner, you forget that? He was here first, and among my myriad jobs was keeping his life warm for him while he was gone.” His gaze cast itself back out to the lake, and he took another drag on the cigarette, smoking it down to the filter. “You should be happy!” Ray accused, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth with a glare at the Mountie. “You gotcher old buddy Ray Vecchio back in one piece, what more could you possibly want?”
“Ray, why did you leave?” Fraser repeated, trying to keep his voice even, but Ray could tell failure was imminent.
“Because there can’t be two Ray Vecchios at the 2-7. Because no one was supposed to notice me there, notice me leaving. Bringing *any* notice to me lets the bad guys know that there was a reason I was calling myself Ray Vecchio. We do that, he ends up with a bullet to the head, you got that? It’s part of being undercover, Fraser.”
The Mountie paused, blue eyes locked on Ray as he attempted to take a steady inhale, trying to pretend there was no tremble in his hands, no hitch in his breath. “Walking away,” Fraser concluded, voice emotionless.
“Hardest fuckin’ part,” Ray admitted, flicking the ash off the tip of his cigarette. “Learning how close is too close. Knowing that any moment, brass could pull ya, and everything you were, everything you pretended to be vanishes, cause it wasn’t who you were supposed to be in the first place. Stella used to say she didn’t know who I was anymore.” A wry grin cut through the inebriation and settled on Ray’s face. “She wasn’t the only one.”
There was silence between them as Ray pulled a church key from his pocket. “You want a beer, Frase?”
“No, thank you kindly,” Fraser responded, automatically.
“The hardest part is knowing when to let go when everything in your heart is telling you to hang on to what you’ve got with every bit of strength left in your body,” Ray said, shrugging quietly. With the practiced ease of a habitual drinker, he picked up the half-empty beer and took another drink.
The undercurrent of wistful remembrance did not escape Fraser’s notice and he blinked, eyes flickering to Ray’s face. “You’ve never *wanted* to hold on to another man’s life before,” he replied in dawning understanding. “Before you became Ray Vecchio…”
Ray ran his hand through stiff spikes. “Before Vecchio, I was either a good cop on my own name, or a bad guy. Does he have any idea what a lucky SOB he is?” he asked, angrily. “He’s got a family who loves him. He’s got a great job, lots of respect. He’s got a partner that’s a cop’s wet dream. Does he see that? No. Takes it for granted. Takes *you* for fucking granted. People like you don’t grow on trees, you know?”
An eyebrow rub was the first response to that.
“And if you tell me that, no, you *didn’t* grow on a tree, I’ll be seven shades of pissed, Fraser, so you can just save it,” Ray just snapped.
“Understood,” Fraser acknowledged, having barely stopped in time. “Ray, you may not be Ray Vecchio anymore, but that doesn’t mean that you have to give up the friendships you’ve gained during this assignment.”
“Right. And how many of them actually know where I live, what I like on my pizza?” he asked sharply, plunking his bottle down on the ground with an aggressive clink. “Who knows about Ellery, who even said *anything* about my birthday? You’re it, Fraser. They know my name, my face, maybe even they know me as Vecchio, but they don’t know Ray fucking Kowalski.”
Fraser could only seem to sigh. It wasn’t exaggeration and they both knew it. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming…”
“Do you not *get* the concept of undercover, Fraser?” Ray queried, sarcasm dripping from his words. “It means I am not Ray Kowalski, except in private. You’re the only one who’s ever decided to know me in private, okay?”
“So what happens now? You’re planning to walk away?” Fraser asked, now more upset than frustrated.
Ray might have been drinking all night, but by God he could still argue. “It ain’t my *choice*, Fraser! It sure as hell ain’t my life!”
“What do you want to hang onto, Ray?”
That was the question, now, wasn’t it?
“Ray?” Fraser pushed after a few moments’ time.
Finally, the smell of the cigarettes and the Kung Pao chicken conspired to make Ray nauseous. He got up, stalking along the edge of the waterway in order to clear his head.
Fraser got up too, following him. “Please, Ray, tell me.”
As concerned as Fraser was sounding, he wasn’t going away until he figured this out, that much was certain. The soft night breeze brushed against Ray’s face, as a warm hand settled on his shoulder.
Ray raised a hand to his temple, sighing heavily. “Ain’t never had someone like you in my life, Frase,” he admitted slowly.
For a moment, Ray knew that Fraser was thinking about what that had to do with the price of tea in China, but it was the only answer Ray knew how to give, only available with liquid courage. Something clicked, and the hand on Ray’s shoulder squeezed gently. Fraser got it.
“Ain’t that a bitch? I finally get a partner I don’t want to kick in the head nine days out of ten, and he’s someone else’s partner,” Ray said, repressing a bark of laughter. “Brass told me to be your partner. But they never said I had to stand around and watch him take ya back.” He let himself be turned, looking Fraser in the eye as intently as he could, not knocking the hand off his shoulder. “They can tear down the world I had but they can’t make me watch.”
“Do you really think so little of me? Do you honestly think that I’d cease to be your friend once Ray Vecchio returned?” Fraser asked, his voice filled with quiet hurt.
“Fraser, he’s your partner. They stuck you with me when he left, and now he’s back. He’s night, I’m day, he’s bald, I’m blond. We could not *be* more different, and if you think he’s gonna be able to share you with me, you’re kidding yourself. I don’t even know *where* they’re gonna stick me, if they put me back in Vice we ain’t gonna get to be partners, you had to know that.” He sighed, raking his free hand through his hair and looked out at the lake again. “I always figured the Mother Ship would come to its senses and send ya back to the Great Frozen White before Vecchio came back to stay. It’s not that I don’t want ya. It’s that… I didn’t want you to havta choose.”
An expression like nothing Ray had ever seen came over that face. “Because you feared I’d choose him over you.”
"There is no choice!" Ray looked away, not wanting to meet the intensity of his former partner’s gaze. “Fraser, am I not an undercover cop?”
“You are.”
“Do you, or do you not *suck* at lying to people, even for the sake of a cover?”
That received a somewhat rueful smile in return. “I do indeed suck, Ray,” Fraser replied honestly. “But I meant what I said the first day I met you. People are not interchangeable like snowmobile parts. I did not mean to ignore you when Ray Vecchio returned, and for that, I must beg your forgiveness. My behavior tonight was reprehensible.”
“Alright, you said suck and it doesn’t involve a vacuum.” Ray eyed Fraser warily, before holding out his hand. “Give me the keys. You’ve been drinking.”
“Ray, I am being serious. And if you do not consider yourself as anything more than a substitute for Ray Vecchio, then I have greatly wronged someone I consider to be as close or closer to me than anyone ever has been,” Fraser continued, gaining momentum with no small amount of ire. “I long ago began to consider you my friend on your own merits, and I should only hope that you have done the same.”
Ray’s eyes rocketed to Fraser’s face, and his hand dropped. “Jesus, Fraser,” he breathed, paling rapidly in the moonlight. “Of course you’re my friend. You’re the person, the one fucking person I could not have done this without. And I am going to miss you, so fucking much.”
“Did your superiors tell you that you were forbidden to ever see me again?”
Ray shook his head warily.
“Then why the hell did you walk away from me?” Fraser asked, his voice low, and rough with emotion. “Everyone in my entire life has left me, Ray, don’t you understand that? My mother was murdered. My father *abandoned* me, my grandparents died shortly after raising their grandchild, my partner Ray Vecchio left without so much as explaining to me *why*, and now you’re trying to leave me. No. That is it, I must draw the line somewhere.” He grabbed Ray by the jacket, and pulled him close. “You can walk away now, but you are my friend, maybe my best friend and I am not letting you go, Ray. Not now, and not ever. Where you go, I will find you.”
Ray could easily be done in by this sort of admission. “You tracked me across the city within the first week, Frase.”
“And if you believe Dief will allow his donut pipeline to disappear, you will be treated to the full extent of his pursuit skills,” Fraser explained, matter-of-factly. “They are quite formidable when prey is involved.”
Ray had to chuckle at that. “Beware the mighty donut-stealing wolf.”
“Yes, and I left him in your apartment. He was quite put out with my lack of consideration, and he’s going to be insufferable for days, given as he was right. And if you tell him I said that, I will…”
“Tell you what, Frase. You drive the Goat home, turn on the heater, and leave the threats of head-kicking to the professional? Oh, and not like I mind the true confessions, but if you don’t let go of me before I lose dinner off the pier, we’re gonna be in for a rough night.”
Thank God Fraser let go of him in time, because while you were sick, your best friend just might hold the bucket for you, not a one of them actually wanted to *be* the bucket.
***
There will be more to come (I envision at least two more parts), I just have to rope Fraser and Ray into cooperating, and it won't be this weekend, as I'm repainting my living room. Hope you guys like. And please forgive my tardiness. I suck.
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Date: 2006-05-19 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-22 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-19 04:41 pm (UTC)Have fun painting the living room, I shall endeavor to restrain my impatience for part 3 until after the paint fumes disperse...
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Date: 2006-05-22 03:58 pm (UTC)BTW, icon luff!
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Date: 2006-05-22 09:13 am (UTC)I hope the living room got painted
Because we need the rest!
This...
“Jesus, Fraser,” he breathed, paling rapidly in the moonlight. “Of course you’re my friend. You’re the person, the one fucking person I could not have done this without. And I am going to miss you, so fucking much.”
...is one of the many lines that nearly broke my heart.
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Date: 2006-05-22 04:01 pm (UTC)And yes, the living room is painted now. Mom and I attacked it like Dief attacks a donut. :)
*goes to drive the cluebus over Ray and Fraser, humming DS soundtrack*
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Date: 2006-05-22 01:47 pm (UTC)*waits patiently for more*
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Date: 2006-05-22 04:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-04 04:48 am (UTC)P.S. And I love the new paint job! Gorgeous color!
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Date: 2006-06-24 03:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-23 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-24 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 05:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-24 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-14 06:25 am (UTC)I've been looking for something like this, having the original Ray return and the effects it would have on Fraser and RayK. Now I'm on the edge of my seat waiting to see what'll happen once they're run over with the clubbus. *grins* Lovely work thus far. *waves*
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Date: 2006-06-24 03:30 am (UTC)Thanks for the fb!
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Date: 2006-06-25 03:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-26 04:31 am (UTC)