DECEPTION Title: Deception Author: Welmach. Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski. Rating: Adult. Disclaimer: I don't own the main ones. Alliance does. Feedback: Is most welcomed. Notes: Vecchio never went to Florida. He and Stella never married. Spoilers: Takes place after COTW. Thanks: This is a revised version of an earlier story. To Magnes who beta'd the original and gave me encouragement. To Beth who provided her ideas and support in this rewrite. His name....He knew his name. Kowalski. Ray Kowalski. He remembered gunfire....His head. God, his head hurt. He wanted to open his eyes, but it hurt so much. Fraser. Fraser will help me. All he had to do was reach Fraser, and he would be all right. He was always all right when he was with Fraser. Slowly, Ray opened his eyes, taking deep breaths as the pain overtook him. It's all right, Kowalski. For Christ's sake, you can do this! Finally, he was able to focus. He was in a hospital, with tubes in his arms. His left arm was bandaged, but why? What happened? Gunshot in the shoulder. Somehow, he wasn't sure how, he managed to turn on his side and grasp the telephone. The familiar number came easily to him. "You have reached the Canadian Consulate. Constable Renfield Turnbull at your service...." "Turnbull," Ray found his voice was hoarse and sore. "I need to talk to Fraser." "Corporal Benton Fraser is no longer in Chicago..." The voice suddenly lowered. "May I ask who this is?" That's right. Canada. Ben's in Canada waiting for me. "Hello?" "Me....It's me, Turnbull. Ray." "Detective Vecchio?" "Yeah...no...not anymore," Ray whispered. "Excuse me?" came the confused response. "I was Vecchio, but I'm back to Kowalski..." "Detective Kowalski?" Amazement filled the voice. "Yeah...please. I need help." Ray was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. "You're dead, Detective." Dead? I'm dead. Panic began to fill Ray and he began to struggle to sit up, but it hurt too much. "Detective. Are you there, Detective?" "Turnbull. Please." "Where are you?" "Hospital....Please, Turnbull. I need Fraser..." He never finished the sentence. The phone was pulled from his hand and slammed down. "Jesus Christ. Why didn't someone tell us he was awake?" Ray looked up into a pair of remote gray eyes. Veronica Winters. Talk about a name that fits. The dark-haired woman turned away as a needle pierced Ray's vein. The last thing he heard before falling asleep was her voice saying, "We need to move him, tonight." *** Corporal Benton Fraser stepped into the airport terminal and found the familiar figure of Lieutenant Welsh waiting for him. "How are you, Constable? Corporal, I mean," Welsh corrected. "Fine, Lieutenant. Thank you for coming to get me. I know Constable Turnbull is busy getting Diefenbaker from quarantine," Fraser replied in his usual polite manner, yet there was a tension present beneath the surface. "They are going to meet us at the consulate." "Has there been further word on Ray?" "I'm afraid not." "I thought not, but I did hope," Fraser admitted as they made their way through the airport. "We'll find him, Corporal," Welsh assured the younger man. "Yes sir. Thank you. I'm still perplexed by what has occurred. One moment I'm informed Ray is dead in a car accident, then I'm told he is alive but missing." "I understand. I feel the same way," Welsh agreed. "And I've become more frustrated running into dead ends." "Dead ends, sir?" "Yes." They were silent as the left the airport, and made their way to the Lieutenant's car. Fraser knew the older man was disturbed by something, and he knew he would tell him, in his own time. Finally Welsh spoke. "You told me on the phone that Ray returned to Chicago to testify in the Miller case." "Yes sir." "The case isn't going to trial. It never was. Two months ago, Roland Miller plea-bargained with the D.A. for a lesser sentence." "I heard Ray's conversations on the telephone about the case. I read the letter he received...I have it with me." "I believe you, Corporal," Welsh replied. "You told me the attorney for the case was Veronica Winters." "Yes sir." "Well, there is no record of a Veronica Winters in the state's office. No one has heard of her." "I see." "Do you? Cause I sure the hell don't understand any of it!" Welsh exclaimed angrily. "And the one person who might know something has his mouth shut." "Who is that sir?" Fraser asked as they pulled in front of the consulate. "Ray Vecchio." "Ray?" "Yes, the newly promoted Lieutenant Vecchio, who works in the newly formed D.A.'s unit," Welsh replied getting out of the car and slamming the door. Fraser followed Welsh into the consulate where Constable Renfield Turnbull, Francesca Vecchio, and irate wolf Diefenbaker waited. Frannie smiled, but not with her usual bright smile and cheerful greeting. "Hi Fraser." "Francesca, I didn't expect to you see you here," he admitted. "When Rennie told me what was going on, I had to help," she said. "Francesca has been very helpful." Turnbull assured him. Fraser did not miss the glance the two shared. "Oh, and welcome back, sir," the young constable added. "Thank you, Constable." "I received the news that you will be Inspector Thatcher's temporary replacement until a permanent one can be found, sir," Turnbull said. "So, I've gone ahead and prepared her office for you." "Thank you." "Congratulations, Fraser," Welsh said. "It was an option that I was given sometime ago, but I had no reason to return to Chicago," Fraser replied, a note of sadness in his voice. "Now I do, and the post still needs to be filled." Welsh, Turnbull, Frannie, and the wolf followed the tall, dark-haired Mountie to his new office and watched as he looked around the room, a solemn look in his blue eyes. "I would like to know more about Ray Vecchio's possible involvement in Ray Kowalski's disappearance," he stated, sitting behind the oak desk. "He's one of the last people Kowalski spoke to," Welsh said. "That doesn't verify his involvement in Ray's disappearance." "No," Frannie agreed and added, "But, I tried to talk to my brother about the Miller case and Veronica Winters, and he told me to keep out of things that didn't concern me." "So, Ray Vecchio had knowledge of the reason for Ray Kowalski's return to Chicago." "There's more Corporal," Welsh told him. "Ray Vecchio was in charge of the investigation of Kowalski's car crash. He had access to the body." "You told me the body was destroyed in the explosion," Fraser reminded Welsh, remembering the overwhelming feeling of loss he had felt hearing about Ray's death. The Lieutenant nodded. "That's what Vecchio told me, and Stella Kowalski backed him up on it, but there is a kicker to this. There were no reports of any car accidents anywhere near the reported area that day or that week." Welsh took a deep breath and folded his arms. "So, we checked out every car accident that week. No fatalities, no Ray Kowalski." "So Attorney Kowalski and Ray Vecchio may well be a party to whatever has happened to Ray?" The Mountie murmured with a shake to his dark head. The possibility that Ray's ex-wife, a woman who he had once loved more than life itself would be involved in misleading Ray, in using him, repulsed Fraser. "It is the D.A.'s unit, and that's what she is, an assistant D.A., right under the big man now," Francesca said with a knowing smirk. "She loves it, and I can tell you my brother is enjoying his high-profile position. He's too busy to have time for his family. I don't remember the last time he came by and saw ma." "But why would they want to harm Ray? Why would they want him to return to Chicago?" Fraser asked, and for perhaps the first time in his life he felt utterly confused. "Rumor is it has to do with Jonas Dalloway," Welsh answered. A frown crossed the handsome Corporal's face; "I remember his name from my time in Chicago. He is a real estate agent, who the police were trying to connect to the mob..." "And couldn't," Welsh finished. "Well, Vecchio apparently found a connection: a small time hood called Luther Kraft." He placed a photograph on Fraser's desk. "Look like someone we all know and love?" Thin, blond, lean face. Not a twin, but a close resemblance. Stated Fraser, "It could be Ray Kowalski." "Or Ray could be him," Welsh replied. "Where is he now?" "That's the kicker!" Welsh exclaimed. "He disappeared three weeks ago from his apartment. According to his girlfriend, they were supposed to go to his mom's for dinner and never showed. No one has seen him since." Fraser put Veronica Winter's letter on the desk. "And a week later, Ray is called to come back to Chicago, from an attorney who does not exist." "And a week later he is reported dead in a car accident," Turnbull inserted. "That never happened," Francesca added. "And the one who is giving out all this information is Ray Vecchio," Fraser stated. *** The next evening, Ray Vecchio arrived at DaVinci's Restaurant and found a white wolf and handsome red serge Mountie waiting outside. "Benny!" Fraser found himself enveloped in a tight hug. For a moment, he allowed himself to return the pressure and remember the friendship and relationship of the past. "It's good to see you, Benny," Vecchio whispered, his breath warm against Fraser's ear. "And you, Ray." "Come on, let's get a table," he instructed. "Bring the wolf. The owner is a close acquaintance of mine, he won't mind." Fraser noted that Ray must be a very close acquaintance, for they were immediately led to the best table and given an expensive bottle of wine, compliments of the house. "Wearing your serge on vacation?" Vecchio teased. "I'm not on vacation, Ray," Fraser replied, placing his Stetson on the extra chair as Dief lay at his feet. "I've been reassigned to the consulate." Vecchio shook his head in disgust. "Jesus, Benny. You miss Chicago so much you're willing to serve guard duty the rest of your life?" "No. I'm assuming Inspector Thatcher's position until a replacement can be decided upon." "Welcome, Lieutenant. What can I get you and your friend this evening?" A tall, heavyset man in a three-piece suit inquired. "Hello, Antonio, I'll have my usual," Vecchio said, turning to Fraser. "Benny, this is Antonio DaVinci, owner of this fine establishment. Antonio, my friend and former partner, Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." "It's Corporal now, Ray," Fraser corrected, uncertain why he needed to let Ray know of his promotion. Perhaps because the one thing Ray Vecchio has always held in high standing, has always taken seriously has been success. "Congratulations, Benny!" Vecchio smiled. "Bring my friend the cannelloni." "I would prefer the spaghetti," Fraser informed Antonio DaVinci. "With water." "The cannelloni is the best in the city," Ray argued. "Perhaps so, but I'm ordering the spaghetti," Fraser replied. Vecchio raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sure, Benny. Whatever you want." "I hope so, Ray," he said, as Antonio left them. "I thought you would never leave Canada again." "Never is a strong word," Fraser stated. "I'm sure you can guess the primary reason I've returned." "Not to take over at the consulate?" "No. I wouldn't have returned if I hadn't heard about Ray Kowalski." A feigned innocent expression crossed the thin face. "You returned because Kowalski died? That's a little morose, Benny." Fraser's blue eyes fixed on Vecchio's green. "I want to know where he is." Vecchio leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine. "He's dead." "No he's not, and you know it." "Oh?" Fraser sighed and shook his head. "Don't try to play me, Ray." "Play you? You've been around the Polack to long." "You know where he is. You know he isn't dead. You know he was brought back to Chicago on false pretenses." "I know a lot," Vecchio smiled. "Yes you do." It was then Vecchio realized that things had changed. Fraser had changed. Oh, he had noticed it when he first returned from his undercover operation, but it was even more pronounced now, after a year of being apart. Fraser wasn't as malleable, not as susceptible to Ray's words. He was not as trusting. Fraser was harder. And Vecchio didn't like it at all. "You're staring at me," Fraser told him. Vecchio shrugged. "You've changed." "So have you. The Ray Vecchio I knew would never have been a part of falsifying someone's death, lying to those people who cared about him, harming a fellow officer, keeping information on his whereabouts hidden." "I haven't harmed Kowalski," Vecchio argued. "What have you done with him?" Fraser demanded. "That information is confidential, Benny." A low growl emitted from beneath the table. "The wolf seems upset." "He's not the only one," Fraser stated coolly. "Come on Benny, you've always been the one who understood about duty and loyalty to the job!" "And you helped teach me about loyalty to friends." "The Polack isn't my friend." "But he's mine." "I never understood that." "I wish you could have, but if you don't want to then there is nothing I can do about that." Vecchio shook his head in frustration. Anger tinged his voice. "Goddamn it, Benny! Kowalski is a basket case! He's a fuckin' loser! Ask anyone whoever knew him! All he's ever done is screw up and be a lost cause!" A cold mask fell over Fraser's face, his blue eyes darkened in anger, and his body tightened in fury. For a moment, Vecchio thought the Mountie might reach over the table and hit him. Instead, he placed a letter on the table. "Who is Veronica Winters?" Green eyes glanced at the letter. "You keep all the Polack's mail? Can't he figure out the big words?" Another growl, but this time it was closer as Dief stood up, fangs bared at Vecchio. "No, Diefenbaker," Fraser murmured, his eyes fixed on Ray. "Why doesn't she exist?" "Privileged information." "And would that be the answer if I mention Jacob Dalloway and Luther Kraft?" "Yes." Fraser rose to his feet and put money on the table. "I won't be staying for dinner..." He glanced at the wolf. "Come along, Diefenbaker. There is nothing here for us." Without a backward glance, Mountie and wolf left the restaurant. "I have to find him, Diefenbaker," Fraser said as they walked towards the consulate. A wolf growl. "I do not believe allowing you to tear Ray Vecchio's throat out is the answer." A long, low growl. "Yes. I do understand you would feel better, but we would not be any closer to finding our Ray." A soft whimper. "I miss him as well, but we now know he is alive," Fraser reminded him. "We will get him back." A green Riviera pulled alongside them. "Get in before I change my mind." "Where are we going?" Fraser asked when he and Diefenbaker were settled in the car. "You want to see Kowalski. I'm taking you to him." "Thank you, Ray." "Don't thank me, okay?" he ordered. "All right. Will you at least tell me where we are going?" "River Oaks Hospital." A chill went through Fraser. "That's a sanitarium." "Yep." "Why is Ray there?" "Cause when he got to Turnbull from the first hospital, we needed to find him a place we knew we could keep him away from people." Fraser forced himself to suppress his rage. The wolf did not. "I told you that was not an option." "What?" Vecchio asked. "Diefenbaker is very upset with you right now." "Really?" "Yes. Ray is very dear to him." "So the wolf lacks taste too." Another growl. "Language, Diefenbaker," Fraser admonished. "Why was Ray in a hospital?" "Don't worry. He'll be fine." "I didn't ask you that. I asked why he was in a hospital." "Because he was injured. Now that's all I can tell you. All right?" "It's far from all right. This entire situation is far from all right." *** Vecchio led Fraser and Dief through the quiet halls of the hospital, into an elevator and to the third floor. As they stepped off the elevator, Fraser sensed something was wrong. This was verified by the approach of a slender woman with dark curly hair and sharp gray eyes. "How did you get here so fast, Lieutenant?" "What happened, Taggert?" Vecchio demanded. "Where's Kowalski?" "He's gone. Someone grabbed him about two hours ago," she replied with an offhanded look at Fraser. "I got here about fifteen minutes ago." "Two hours ago? And, we're just finding out? Who was on guard tonight?!" "Nash. Whoever took Kowalski killed Nash and put him in the bathroom." "Shit! Shit!" Vecchio yelled and turned to a too contained Fraser. "This wasn't supposed to happen, Benny." "But it did." *** Ray awoke as a bucket of water was thrown into his face. Jesus, now what? A burning pain ran through his injured arm, which was bound, with right arm over his head and to a heavy beam. His body hung about two feet off the floor. "Hello, Detective Kowalski." Ray twisted until he faced a tall, broad chested man with dark hair and cold brown eyes. "What the fuck is going on?" he gasped. The only response was a backhanded slap across his face. "Speak when I tell you, bitch." "Fuck you." This time he received a punch, and Ray tasted blood in his mouth. "Not me. Now, you made someone very angry with your interference. I'm here to teach you a lesson about knowing your place." "I've got nuthin' to learn." The man stepped behind Ray. His hands moved to the bony shoulders. "I think you have a lot to learn, bitch." A loud scream pierced the air as fingers dug into Ray's shoulder. The stitches were pulled out and strong fingers pushed into muscle and bone. At that moment, Ray knew he was going to die. *** Fraser entered Ray's room and scanned the disarray. The bed was empty, the sheets thrown to the floor. The room's one chair was overturned and the remnants of the dinner tray lay scattered on the floor. He picked up the pillow and inhaled, smelling his Ray. Yet, there was the presence of another on the bed. Ignoring the few police officers that made their way in and out of the room, Fraser began his methodical routine of investigation: searching, smelling, tasting. He crawled on the floor, under the bed and when he was finished there he moved into the small bathroom that was now filled by the dead body of Officer Martin Nash. "What the hell are you doing?" Detective Taggert demanded, watching the handsome, raven-haired man crawl around the body. "You're out of your jurisdiction, Corporal Fraser." "And you went beyond yours by posing as an attorney and by lying to Detective Kowalski," he replied not bothering to look up from his investigation. "How..." "Don't ask," Vecchio advised moving into the doorway. "You told him." "He figured it out by himself," he muttered. "Have you come up with anything, Benny?" "The man who did this is a professional from Chicago. He's a former police officer with some military training. He and Officer Nash were acquainted with each other, and that might be how he discovered where Ray was being held. However, I believe he also obtained information from a member of the hospital staff." "You're making that up!" Taggert accused. "You're guessing!" "There is no guessing involved." Fraser rose to his feet and dusted off his hands. "He was able to take Ray with no questions, fresh marks indicate a wheelchair was used, meaning that Ray was most likely unconscious. There was no struggle with Officer Nash. He came into the room of his freewill. Officer Nash is also carrying close to a thousand dollars in cash, not something an average police officer would have in his wallet." He looked past them. "Thank you for arriving so quickly, Lieutenant Welsh. Detective Huey." "What the hell are you doing here?!" Vecchio demanded. "I called them while you were speaking with Detective Taggert and your men," Fraser told his old friend. "I picked up the sign in sheet from the guard at the gate," Welsh said wasting no time for niceties. "I have him waiting outside for questioning." "This is not your investigation," Vecchio reminded his fellow lieutenant. "Call Captain McQueen and you'll find out otherwise....Actually, you'll probably find a message on your answering machine when you get home, informing you to report to his office tomorrow." "This investigation has nothing to do with your department." "It does when one of my detectives is involved." "He was working for me." "I don't care if he was working for the president!" Welsh exclaimed. "He is still my detective, and now he is missing." "And I'll find him!" "When? Before or after he's dead?" *** The next time Ray awoke he was in a closet. His hands and feet were bound together and his mouth taped shut. His left arm was completely numb, sparing him from the pain he knew he would be suffering. Unfortunately, the rest of his body wasn't at that point yet. His right arm felt as if it was being pulled out of the socket. His sides were aching, his face was swollen and bloody, and he knew he had had broken ribs from his bout as his assailant's punching bag. Pull yourself together, Kowalski! You're still a cop for fuck's sake! Act like one! What would Fraser do in this situation? He'd look and listen. Figure out where he was being holed up. A warehouse. He was in an empty warehouse. He closed his eyes and listened. Water was lapping beneath him. In the distance, the remote cries of gulls. The docks....Shit, thank you God, I'm still in Chicago. All he had to do now was get out, but how? He was too injured and too securely tied to escape the ropes, much less the warehouse. And who the hell was going to know where he was? If he was even being looked for... Fraser would know though. And he's in Canada, Ray reminded himself. Where he belongs. Unless....Turnbull was a good dutiful Canadian Mountie...he would have notified Fraser about the phone call. Notify? Jesus, Kowalski, you've been around Fraser too much. Enough to pick up some of his language and know he would come searching for him in Chicago. When though? Ray had no idea how much time had passed since he made the phone call, since he was kidnapped....A day? A week? A month? Was Fraser even in Chicago, yet? No, Ray couldn't count on anyone. Not even himself. *** Ray Vecchio left the interrogation room of the 27th and headed for the break room. He was furious. First, the investigation had been taken from him and given to Welsh. On top of that, it had been nearly eighteen hours since Ray Kowalski had been taken, and they were just as much in the dark now, as then. Except now they had an i.d. on the person who took Kowalski: Chester Holmes. Fraser had been on the mark about him. Holmes was from Chicago, a former marine who had a few years on the Chicago police force before being terminated for police brutality. He turned hired gun and had even advertised in Gun and Ammo. Hospital staff had identified him as visiting a nurse at River Oaks, Janet McPherson. She had been in the interrogation room for the past hour, being questioned by Vecchio and Taggert. "You're going about the questioning in the wrong way." God, the voice was getting on his nerves. "Thank you for telling me my job, Benny," he snarled. "I've only been doing it over seventeen years." "You and Detective Taggert are attacking Ms. McPherson as if she was involved in Ray's abduction." Vecchio turned angrily to his former partner. "And you don't think she is? She gave him the room number, access to the staff entrance..." "But not for the reason you think. Her actions were not those of a desperate individual attempting to keep a lover...." "You'd know all about that, huh, Benny?" he snapped and regretted it the minute it came out. "I'm sorry....I didn't mean that." A moment of hurt passed through the blue eyes, but quickly disappeared. "It is true I would have gone to any lengths for Victoria. And perhaps that allows me to see that those were not Ms. McPherson's motives. Let me question her, Ray." The Italian shook his head. "Nope, not your jurisdiction, not your case." "Don't you think we've moved past that?" "Maybe you and Welsh have, but not me." "It might be best if you do," Fraser advised. Vecchio noticed the coldness that came over the Mountie's face as he looked past him. He turned to see Stella Kowalski heading towards them, anger seeping from her. "What news?" "Ms. Kowalski," Fraser nodded curtly in her direction. "Constable Fraser, I heard you were here." "It's Corporal now," Vecchio told her, becoming defensive of his friend. A sneer crossed her small face. "Well, at least someone has done something with his career. God knows, Ray's was going to waste." "Is that why you felt justified in leading him into this hoax?" Fraser inquired, carefully reigning in his anger. "Ray has always been easily led," she reminded him. "He trusted you, and you lied to him." "He knew what we needed four hours after he got to Chicago!" "So why the fabricated car accident? Why the locking him up in the hospital?" Fraser demanded, his gaze now capturing both Vecchio and Stella. "He had a problem with the operation, didn't he? He didn't agree with it...." "Please Corporal Fraser," Stella interrupted. "That is all speculation." "You wouldn't let him talk to Lieutenant Welsh...or give him a chance to call me, before you had him under guard." The looks on their faces told him he was right. "Now, you owe me and Ray," he maintained, his focus on Vecchio. "You know what I want." With a sigh, Vecchio nodded. "Go talk to McPherson and see what you find out." *** "Why don't you just fuckin' kill me?" Ray muttered, unable to move his head. "You're not having fun?" Holmes asked, smiling at the tortured figure. A stench of vomit and piss filled the warehouse. Bloody cuts and bruises covered Ray's body. His hands were tied behind his back. A choke collar, used to train dogs, was around his neck and tied to the beam, forcing Ray to stand on his toes to keep the prongs from cutting into his throat. On his nipples were alligator clips that were attached to a telephone generator. With a turn of the handle, Holmes could release electric currents into Ray's body. He had done this twice, and both times Ray was left writhing in agony. "You won't get away with this, asshole," Ray groaned. "Someone will find you." "Maybe, but not for a while, and you'll be dead by the time they do," he grinned. "But we still have time to get to know each other." "I don't want to know you, motherfucker!" Holmes kicked him in the groin, causing Ray to double over and the prongs to dig into his throat. "Now, I want you to tell me about yourself," Holmes whispered pulling Ray's head up and kissing his cheek. "You will answer my questions, do you understand? Because if you don't..." He stepped back and turned the handle. Ray's screams echoed through the warehouse. *** Fraser placed a coffee mug in front of Janet McPherson. She smiled gratefully and sipped the warm liquid. "It's been a rather long day, hasn't it?" His tone was gentle. She nodded. "Are you a cop?" "I am in Canada," he said and introduced himself. "Corporal Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." "Oh." "I'm a friend of Raymond Kowalski's," he explained. "Oh," her green eyes lowered. "I'm sorry about your friend." "Thank you. May I sit down?" he asked politely and she nodded. "Thank you kindly." The pretty blonde woman watched him from beneath her lowered lashes. The man exuded a sense of calm; so different from the brusque behavior of the police officers she had come in contact with that night. He had a strength that was so unlike the strength she saw in Chester. This man didn't need to prove himself to anyone. "I really don't know what's going on," she told him. "I don't know where Mr. Kowalski is." "I know." "You're the only one here who believes me." Fraser gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm more interested in what you can tell me about Chester Holmes." "I've answered the other detectives questions..." she began. "I realize that. I just have a few more questions though." She nodded wearily in agreement. "How long have you known Mr. Holmes?" he asked. "About six weeks I guess.... he was a friend of my brothers. He could be very nice...." she said defensively. "I'm sure he could," he replied. "Many times it seems as if the person we know to be so special is perceived in a different manner by others." For a moment she tried to decipher what Benton Fraser said, but gave up. "Uh, yeah, I guess." "I'm sure Mr. Holmes was very supportive when your brother disappeared." "You know about Luther?" Fraser nodded. "Chester was there every moment. He tried to help us find him, but we haven't yet. The police still don't know anything." "Ray Kowalski bears a strong resemblance to your brother." "I noticed that too. When I first saw him, I thought it was Luther. When I got closer, I realized it wasn't." "Did you mention this to Mr. Holmes?" She nodded. "You know what though?" "What?" "He didn't seem very surprised. He knew I was and said he'd find out if there was a reason someone who looked so much like Luther was where I worked," she admitted. "I didn't think there was a reason, but Chester told me I couldn't be too sure." "So you gave him any information he would need on Ray Kowalski to carry out an investigation." "Yes. I didn't know something was going to happen to Detective Kowalski. I swear," she said. "I know that," Fraser assured her gently. "But you do want to help him, don't you?" "Yes, I do." He provided her with his never fail smile and continued. "You said Mr. Holmes was a private investigator." "Yes. I told the other officers that." "Has he mentioned any cases he might be working right now?" "He really didn't discuss work. He told me he worked a lot with big businesses...doing consulting," she replied, her eyes squinting in thought. "Do you remember something?" Fraser asked. "I don't think it's important." "You never know, Ms. McPherson." "Well, he came to the hospital about a week ago and smelled like fish. I asked him if he had been rolling around at a fish market, it was so strong....He said he was working on a case down at the docks..." she gave a small embarrassed smile. "See..." Fraser released a deep breath and gave her a warm smile that lit his whole face. "Ms. McPherson, you might have just saved Detective Kowalski's life." *** Holmes left Ray with the assurance of his return and an end to his misery. The detective suggested that cutting him down might help end some of the misery, but Holmes just laughed. Instead, he maneuvered Ray on top of an old milk crate, his only support were his toes. If he moved or lost his balance, he would hang himself. After an hour, Ray began to drift in and out of consciousness, wanting sleep to overtake him, but knowing if it did he would die. Just give it up, Kowalski, he told himself. How easy it would be to drift off to dreams of Fraser and himself on the quest for Franklin's Hand, of nights spent together, holding each other, talking, planning... A bark? Dief? Maybe this was what it was like to die. The noise seemed so real, so close. Where are the bright lights? There! Voices? Fraser? "Thank you, God. I can die now," he whispered hoarsely. "I won't let you die," a deep voice answered. "Fraser?" The collar was removed and he fell into the strong safe arms he had come to cherish. "I'm here, Ray. You're all right." A blanket was wrapped around him, and he forced his eyes open. There looking at him was that handsome face, the blue eyes filled with so many emotions -- sorrow, guilt, fear, anger, hate, but mostly love. "Fraser, You need to know..." Ray gasped in pain. "What?" "I'm going to kick Vecchio's ass." *** The first thing that hit Corporal Benton Fraser was the stench -- sweat, blood, urine, vomit, and fear. Then came the sight. He had seen a great deal in his thirty-seven years, but nothing compared to the sight that met him now. There in the middle of the warehouse hung the naked, seemingly lifeless figure of Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski. Fraser stood frozen in horror as he stared upon the bruised, bloody body. The silver, dog collar encircled the slender throat he loved to bury his face against, nip with kisses. The blond hair he would run his fingers through was now matted with blood. The slender body that would lay writhing under his in passion was still. It took all of his self-control not to cry out in anger, to scream in rage at Ray Vecchio. Mounties didn't do that, even if the most important thing in their lives was gone. "Mary Mother of God!" exclaimed Vecchio in a hoarse whisper. Dief advanced towards the body in a crouched position. "Dief?" That soft broken, barely-a-murmur word came through the cracked and swollen lips breaking Fraser from his trance. He quickly moved across the room to his partner. "Fraser? Thank you, God. I can die now." "I won't let you die," he said. "Fraser?" Carefully, he removed the collar and caught the body in his arms, lowering himself and Ray to the ground. So thin, my Ray, you are nothing but skin and bones. "I'm here, Ray. You're all right." A blanket appeared and he remembered he wasn't alone. Welsh, Vecchio, Huey and Taggert stood around them. But Fraser cared only for one person and one voice, the one that was saying. "Fraser, you need to know." "What?" "I'm going to kick Vecchio's ass." "Understood." "The ambulance is on the way," Vecchio told him, kneeling next to them. "Kowalski, what can you tell us? Where's Holmes?" Ray's response was to bury his face against Fraser's chest. He didn't want to think about Holmes. He wanted to be left alone. "Come on, Kowalski!" Fraser tightened his hold on the hurt man and frowned at Vecchio. "Leave him alone, Ray. He's been through enough." "Yeah maybe, but I have a criminal out there I need to get and he may know where he is!" "That's enough!" Fraser warned. Vecchio saw the foreboding expression in the Mountie's eyes and stepped away. Damn you, Benny! he raged inwardly. Damn you for changing! *** Fraser sat in the hospital waiting room, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Never had he felt so much rage -- not with his father's death, Victoria's betrayal, or Muldoon. Never had he felt as betrayed and disappointed as he was with Ray Vecchio. "It's going to be all right, Fraser," Welsh assured him, placing a cup of tea on the table. "It's not what you usually drink, but I got a tea bag from the nurse's station." "Thank you kindly." "You need to get some sleep." "I can't. Not until I find out about Ray." Welsh had never seen the Mountie so emotional, so lost. Despite Fraser's attempt to hide his feelings, they were right below the surface, waiting to appear. It didn't take much for it to happen, just the appearance of Ray Vecchio and Stella Kowalski. Fraser was immediately on his feet and on the defensive. "Why are you here?" "Why shouldn't I be here?" Vecchio asked. "Kowalski is involved in a police investigation, and he's a victim of a crime." "I won't allow you to upset his life anymore." Stella pushed past Vecchio and glared at Fraser. "You won't allow?! Who the hell are you to allow or not allow anything where Ray is concerned?!" "I am about the only person who hasn't betrayed him, Ms. Kowalski." When Fraser spoke his voice had a cold edge to it that surprised everyone present, including him. "You are so high and noble aren't you, Corporal Fraser? The only one of us who is without sin?" "I have sin, Ms. Kowalski, but I would never intentionally deceive a person who devoted over ten years of his life to me." "Devoted?" An ugly laugh escaped the small woman. "You know nothing about my relationship with Ray." "You'd be surprised what I know." Vecchio and Welsh were both astonished by the obvious dislike that the attorney and constable held towards each other. "I'm sure Ray has told you plenty, and I'm the queen bitch. Let me tell you though that Ray was no prince charming. He was never stable or strong. You should know how needy and weak he is..." "That's enough, Stella," Vecchio warned. Either she didn't hear him or simply ignored him. "Look at the way he chased after you, following you like a puppy dog in need of an owner. Well, I had enough of his neediness, and so will anyone else with half a mind..." "It's a pity that you will never know what a special person Ray Kowalski actually is," Fraser told her sadly. "Corporal Fraser." A tired looking doctor with thinning brown hair eyed the group warily. "I'm Dr. Greene. Detective Kowalski's in my care..." The small blonde quickly interrupted. "I'm Stella Kowalski." Confusion crossed the doctor's face. "Oh, I didn't realize Detective Kowalski had any immediate family here...." "Ms. Kowalski is Ray's ex-wife," Welsh provided, casting a disapproving eye at the assistant district attorney before asking. "How's Detective Kowalski?" "He is suffering from slight dehydration and hypothermia. He has three broken ribs, numerous cuts and severe bruising, externally and internally. Our primary concern is his shoulder. The torn stitching indicates that it had already suffered a severe injury. The wound was reopened and the muscle looks as if it had been ripped from the bone. Infection has set in, but we're combating it with antibiotics." "He'd been shot in the shoulder," Vecchio informed him, ignoring the sharp look the Mountie cast his way. How badly injured is the arm?" Fraser asked. "We just took him out of surgery. It will be awhile before we know how successful the surgery was or the amount of use he'll have of his arm. But, he's alive." "I'm Lieutenant Vecchio, Chicago P.D. How long before we can see him?" "Right now, only next of kin," Dr. Greene replied, nodding at Fraser. "From what I understand, that's you." "What?" Stella exclaimed. "Ray and I are listed as each others next of kin. We had a lawyer draw up the paperwork before we left on the search for Franklin's Hand," he replied. "That's ridiculous." "May I see him, now?" Fraser asked, ignoring her outburst. He followed the doctor down the corridor to Ray's room. Dr. Greene held open the door. "I'll be back in a little while." Fraser barely recognized the man in the bed. He looked so pale and fragile, so far removed from his Ray, his bounding ball of energy. "I'm here, Ray," he whispered, taking the injured man's right hand and kissing the palm. "I'm here, and no one will harm you." *** The larger body held him down; the meaty hands were beating him, slapping him, fingers were tearing at his skin. He tried to get away, but couldn't. All he could do was watch the figure in the distance. The figure in red serge stood silently watching, waiting for Ray to join him. "Fraser!" He cried out. His only response was the tightening of hands around his throat, blocking his voice and his breath. A voice whispered in his ear, "It's time to learn your lesson, bitch!" "Please..." he gasped, as the hands were replaced by the choke collar, tearing into his throat. "No...Frase!" His fearful eyes sought out the Mountie. He was further away now...disappearing towards the light. "Noooo! Fraser! Don't leave me!" "Ray! I'm right here, Ray! Open your eyes. Look at me!" Frightened blue eyes opened, turning to the voice. "Fraser....Ben...?" "Yes Ray, I'm right here," he murmured, stroking the blonde hair with his free hand. Tears filled the confused eyes. "I thought I dreamed you...that you were still in Canada." "No. I'm in Chicago....Careful." Ray struggled to sit up. "Feel you...I need to feel you, please." Fraser put the guardrail down and sat on the edge of the bed. "Of course you can feel me, Ray." "I really screwed up." "No you didn't. You were taken advantage of by people you should have trusted," he replied, trailing reassuring kisses over Ray's bruised and bandaged throat. "We both were." "You know?" "Yes." "And you don't hate me?" "I could never hate you," he replied "I thought I was a dead guy," Ray whispered weakly. "Hold me Ben, please?" Fraser answered by lying beside his lover and tenderly wrapping his arms around him. "How's this?" "Better," he murmured, exhaustion taking over, "Promise me..." "Anything." "Don't let them..." "Don't let them what, Ray?" he urged softly against his ear. "Take me away again..." he finished drifting off into sleep. Fraser's hold tightened for a moment and he hid his face in Ray's hair to hide his angered features. "Never again. I'll kill them first."