THIN ICE Title: Thin Ice Author: Welmach. Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski. Rating: Adult. Disclaimer: I don't own the main ones. Alliance does. Feedback: Is most welcomed. Notes: Mark Smithbauer returns to Chicago with news of another chance at popularity and fame. But is everything as good as it seems? Sequel: Sequel to the DSSVS episode DISCOVERY. Thanks: Many thanks to Beth for the beta of this episode. "I can't believe we're on a date," Ray said with a shake of his head and a smile on his lips. "And why not? Couples go on dates all the time," Fraser replied, as they strolled down the sidewalk, enjoying the cool Chicago evening. "Well, we're not most couples," Ray reminded him. "I mean I can't believe we made it through the movie without being shot at, kidnapped, or having a dead body fall on us." "Well, tonight is for normalcy and romance," Fraser assured him and opened the door of the The Breakaway. Here we are." Ray stopped in mid-step and gave his lover a suspicious glance. "You've held doors open for me all night long, Fraser. I hope you aren't thinking of me as the woman in this relationship." Fraser smiled in a most unMoutnielike way and leaned in to whisper in Ray's ear. "There is nothing womanlike about you...and I'm glad. And, you can remind me just how much of a man you are when we get home." "You got yourself a deal," Ray agreed huskily as they entered the restaurant. The host met them with a smile, and in Ray's opinion, a too appreciative glance at Fraser. Yeah, Fraser looked good...real good. The serge was gone, and he had even forsaken his off duty jeans for a pair of black pleated slacks and his henley for a blue dress shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. But, he was only for Ray to admire. And Fraser? He only had eyes for his partner. Just as Ray appreciated Fraser's appearance, Fraser appreciated Ray's. The detective was wearing khakis and a green knit shirt that did wonderful things for his eyes and molded to his body in all the right ways. As they were led to their table, Fraser noticed the admiring glances that Ray received. Well, they could look all they wanted because Ray was going home with him. After settling at a quiet corner table and placing their drink orders, they sat with their menus in hand. Ray winked at his lover and said, "This is nice." "Yes, I've always enjoyed the atmosphere here." "I meant you and me. No Vecchio. No Welsh. No Thatcher. Just you and me." "We need more time for us," Fraser admitted. "If the past few months have taught me anything, it was that." Ray knew when Fraser said the past months he was referring to Ray's accident and his presumed death. He reached over and took Fraser's hand in his. "I really like this, Ben. I love spending time with you. But I don't think Dief's going to forgive us for being left out unless we bring home an order of ribs." Fraser shook his head. "He doesn't need all of that fat, Ray." "One order," Ray cajoled, running his fingers along Fraser's wrist. "He looked so sad when we were leaving." "Sad?" Fraser replied in disbelief. "You know, as well as I do, that Mrs. Grimoldi is going to give him a feast tonight." Ray released Fraser's hand and opened his menu. "I already promised him the ribs." "Ray!" he admonished. "No baked potato though. I'll get him coleslaw instead," he bartered. "You don't want him to think I'm a liar, do you?" "And when he is suffering flatulence all evening? What about when we are suffering because of it?" "I already told him he couldn't have the food until tomorrow." The waiter returned with their drinks. A beer for Ray and an ice tea for Fraser. "Are you gentlemen ready to order?" "I'll have two orders of ribs," Ray told him. "I want one boxed to go though." "Yes sir. What side items would you like with that?" "For the to go order, I want cole slaw. For mine, I want the baked potato loaded." "And for you sir?" "I'll have the blackened chicken pasta. We'd also like two salads. One with Italian dressing, the other with French. We'd also like an appetizer. The smoked salmon, please." "Yes sir," was the dutiful answer. "And is Mr. Mahoney in tonight?" The young man nodded. "Yes sir." "Would you tell him Constable Fraser would like to see him?" "Yes sir." Ray tried not to stare, but who was this man and what had he done with his Mountie? "Smoked salmon?" He asked when the waiter had left. "This is our evening out, Ray, and we are going to enjoy," Fraser stated. "You are something, Mountie-man." Blue eyes twinkled. "I intend to prove that later." Ray was stopped from going into detail of how Fraser could prove that by the arrival of Mark Mahoney and Robert Simmons. Ray and Fraser stood up, and Ray found himself hugged by the Chicago Councilman. "How are you two?" Ray asked as Robbie released him and Mahoney shook his hand. "We should ask you that," the retired hockey player told him. "You look good." "I'm feeling good." "Do you have a moment to join us?" Fraser asked. "For friends, we have all the time in the world," Mahoney assured him and called to a waiter. "Bring us a bottle of the '97 Solaia, please." "That's not necessary..." "It's a celebration, Fraser," Robbie interrupted. "You and Ray are here together." "Thanks," Ray said and meant it. Fraser nodded and ran a thumb along his eyebrow. "Yes, thank you. For everything. I didn't have a chance to thank you for your kind words while Ray was missing, your flowers at the funeral, your extremely generous donation to the police fund in his name," his voice thickened with emotion. "You were extremely kind; I'm afraid I might have seemed unnecessarily rude..." "Rude?" With disbelief Mahoney looked at the Mountie. "Fraser, you were in mourning for your lover. We just wanted you to know that we were here." "We know you have friends and family," Robbie added. "But sometimes they don't realize that a loss of a partner is the same as a spouse." Ray saw the pain in Fraser's eyes and reached out to take his partner's hand. "Hey, but there wasn't any loss. I'm back and better than ever." Fraser smiled softly and nodded. "You definitely are." The waiter returned with the wine, and a few moments later the men held their glasses in a toast. "To Friends," Ray said. "To Friends," they echoed. "I'm no expert on wine, but this stuff is good," Ray complimented. "What? You think I'd give you the stuff from the box?" Mahoney joked. "This is a rare occasion," Robbie admitted and nodded in his husband's direction. "The only reason the man knows about wine is because of the restaurant business. At home, the only thing he'll drink is beer." Mahoney smiled knowingly. "And, you love it. You love the macho male, baby. Admit it." "Oh yeah, Mark," Robbie groaned. "The grunts and scratching are so romantic." "Everyone knows you married me for my body." "That's why I'm with Ray," Fraser deadpanned. "Fraser!" Ray blushed as Mark and Robbie laughed. "Jeesh! What's gotten into you tonight?" Fortunately, the waiter returning with their salmon stopped any response. "I have a favor to ask, Ben," Mark said changing the subject. "You've mentioned before that you play hockey." "A little." "A little?" Ray snickered. "I saw you play when we stopped in Yellow Knife. You can skate rings around Gretsky." "I would hardly say that, Ray," Fraser admonished and told Mark. "I used to play quite a bit in my younger days." "Younger days? Jeesh, you sound like you're eighty," Ray laughed. "I had to walk five miles to school...both ways...in five feet of snow with polar bears tracking me." "Except for the polar bears that is a rather accurate description," Fraser told him. "Well, until I received my first dog sled, but that wasn't until the second grade." "You're joking, right?" Robbie asked and turned to Ray. "He's joking, right?" "Yeah, I don't think he got the sled until third grade." "You can still play though?" Mark asked, returning to his previous question. "I'm a little rusty, but I can still play. Why do you ask?" "I'm involved in a charity hockey game. All the proceeds will go for homeless youth. One of the players injured his knee, and we need a replacement." "I'm hardly a professional," Fraser warned. "Despite what Ray may think." "It's not only professionals," Robbie assured him. "There's a firemen, a high school coach, even an accountant." "A hockey-playing accountant," Ray said. "Didn't think I'd ever hear those words together." "I have a few friends from my professional day: Ron Jackson, Bryce Hindleman, Mark Smithbauer, Thomas Gordan..." "Whoa," Ray interrupted, attempting to swallow some salmon. "You said Smithbauer?" "Yes, he arrived yesterday." "Small world," he muttered, glancing at Fraser. "Is there a problem?" Robbie asked. "No," he lied. "When is the game?" Fraser asked. "Next Saturday." "I'm not sure, Mark," Fraser told him. "I have a lot of work to do..." Ray hadn't missed the interest that flashed in his partner's eyes when Mark asked about the game. So what if Smithbauer was going to be around? "Go ahead, Fraser. You'll have fun." "It's not a lot of time to get prepared." "We're holding practice three days next week," Mark told him. "If you want extra hours, I'll work with you." "Once Thatcher finds out it's for a good charity, and that it'll be good publicity, she'll give you time off," Ray said and winked. "And, I think I'll enjoy watching you on ice." Mark grinned. "It's true, Fraser. Nothing gets Robbie hotter than watching me play hockey." "Thanks for sharing," Robbie said flatly. "It's for the good of the team, baby," Mark assured him and asked Fraser. "So will you play?" "I..." Fraser began but was interrupted by Ray. "Fraser, you need to do something fun, something for you." "All right, then. I'll play." "Yes," the former pro-hockey player exclaimed happily. "We have a practice tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. at the Coliseum." "How'd you manage that during a season?" Ray asked. "The Hawks are out of town for the next two weeks," Mark grinned. "And I know who to go to for favors." "I'll be there," Fraser assured him. "Will your entire team be there?" Ray asked, trying to sound casual. "Yes. It's the first practice for everyone," Mark said. The waiter returned with their dinners. Robbie took his husband's hand and suggested, "Why don't we let Ray and Fraser eat their dinner and enjoy their night out?" "You're not disturbing us," Fraser assured them. "Right. You're too polite to tell us if we were," Robbie said knowingly. "It's been nice," Ray told them, "talking like this with another couple. We don't get a chance to do it a lot." "I'll see you tomorrow then," Mark told Fraser. Fraser nodded. "8:00 a.m." "It was nice, you know," Ray said, once he and Fraser were alone. "Being able to joke about our relationship and not worry about the other people." "Do you worry about others?" Fraser asked. "You know me, Fraser. I couldn't care less what other people think..." "And I feel the same way." Ray nodded. "It's just...it's natural to us...it's right." "Yet other people still don't view it that way," Fraser finished. "Yeah. I'd like to do the kind of things Stella and me used to do. Go dancing, hold hands in the park," Ray admitted sadly. "I want to show that I love you." "You do that everyday, Ray." "Sorry to be such a downer." "You are no such thing." "Good...so you're going to play hockey." "Are you sure you don't mind my playing?" "You'll have a good time." "Perhaps, but do you mind my playing?" he asked. "Why would I?" "I'm not sure why you would, Ray. You have nothing to worry about." "Yeah, I know. You're a good player." "I wasn't talking about that." "I know you weren't." Fraser looked at their barely-eaten meals and made a decision. "What do you think about boxing this up and going home?" "You full?" Ray asked. "I'm hungry for dessert," Fraser whispered huskily. Ray grinned, his playful mood returning. "Did you see what you wanted on the menu?" "It's on my own private menu." "You've got a private menu?" "Oh yes. For an appetizer we have Ray with dripping sauce. A wonderful entree is Polish flatfoot sauteed in Canadian juices..." Ray hissed as his body responded to Fraser's words. He took a long swallow of his beer and nearly choked when Fraser added, "For dessert...chilled strawberries, Ray, and lots of cream." "Jesus, Fraser!" "Not Jesus," Fraser teased. "Benton...but I promise you'll see God tonight." "Check!" Ray ordered *** Ray rolled over in bed with the intention of snuggling up to a warm body, but all he found was a cold spot. "Fraser," he mumbled. "Yes, Ray?" He opened his eyes and peered at Fraser. The Mountie was fully dressed and sitting on the end of the bed, tying his boots. "What are you doing? It's..." He squinted, trying to read the clock. "It's six a.m." "Jeesh, Fraser. It's Sunday." "And I'm suppose to be at the arena for practice at eight a.m." "You've got two hours," Ray argued. "It will give me plenty of time..." "Wait! You're not going to walk, are you?" "That's my plan." "Well, it's stupid," Ray told him. "Come back to bed and keep me company for an hour then I'll drive you over." Fraser moved up to his partner's side and leaned in for a long morning kiss. "One hour will never do, Ray." "I love Sunday mornings with you, Ben," he whispered huskily. "Lounging in bed, lovin' the hours away." "I love that too," he whispered, his lips moving against the pale throat. "But I promised Mark I would be there." "I can drive you." "I know, but I want you to sleep late and wallow. Besides, the walk will loosen up my muscles." "I can help you do that," Ray promised. Fraser laughed and gave him one final kiss before standing up. "I know you can. That's why I'm going to go now." "How about me and Dief pick you up for lunch? After, we can go for walk in the park...or come back here for a special Ray Kowalski massage." "Sounds perfect," Fraser agreed. "We should be finished about noon." With a one last kiss to his partner, Fraser left. Ray stretched back in the bed and considered going back to sleep. But sleep wouldn't come because one thought kept running through his head -- Fraser was going to see Smithbauer. *** "Morning, Fraser," Mark Mahoney called in greeting as the Mountie made his way into the locker room. "Good morning." A few other men were busily lacing up their skates or pulling on their uniforms. Mark made introductions, and Fraser took in their names. He knew Diefenbaker expected autographs from several of them. "Ben?" A voice said behind him. He turned to Mark Smithbauer. The former hockey player smiled widely. "Goddamn, Ben!" Fraser found himself seriously hugged. "It's so good to see you," Smithbauer told him. "You also," Fraser replied disengaging himself from the embrace. "You look very well." And he did. Apparently forced retirement hadn't been a hardship on Smithbauer. He was as handsome and fit as ever. Smithbauer ran his gaze over Fraser. "You look fantastic. Last I heard, you were involved in some case in Canada involving a nuclear submarine. I figured you were still up there." "I decided to return to Chicago." "I thought you hated the city." "I never hated it," Fraser corrected. "I was homesick." "And you're not anymore?" "No," he smiled gently as he thought of the reason why. Fraser was about to ask his friend about his life, but Mahoney calling everyone to the ice interrupted him. Smithbauer slung his arm around Fraser's shoulder and led him out of the locker room. "Once this practice is over, we are going to go somewhere and catch up on everything." *** "Jeesh, Dief, slow up," Ray complained, following the excited wolf into the arena. "I told you Fraser promised to get autographs." Dief ignored him and raced ahead towards the rink. His attention moved from the players on the ice to where Robert Simmons stood drinking a cup of coffee and eating a muffin. Well, he could always meet them later. By the time Ray arrived, Dief was scarfing down his own muffin and preparing for more. "Have you no pride, wolf? You just finished half a rack of ribs." "Is that what's around his muzzle?" inquired Robbie. "Yeah. He wouldn't let me wash off it," Ray admitted then asked. "How's it going?" "I only got here about twenty minutes ago; but from what I've seen, they look good." Ray quickly located Fraser and watched as his partner sped down the ice, stick moving rapidly and the puck sliding across the ice. His only real competition was a player coming up on his right. Ray read the back of his jersey -- Smithbauer. The former hockey player stole the puck and started in the opposite direction, but Fraser was on his tail. "Are you okay?" Robbie's question stole Ray back from his thoughts of where Mark Smithbauer could put that puck. "I'm fine. Why?" "Because you squashed your muffin in your fist," he remarked. Ray looked down at the ruined blueberry muffin. He shook the crumbs onto his napkin and put it on the floor for Dief. "I'm good." Robbie nodded and turned his attention back to the practice. A moment later he spoke, "I know we don't know each other very well, Ray, and I don't mean to pry..." "But?" "I have the feeling you don't like Mark Smithbauer," he stated. Ray shrugged and admitted, "I don't know him." "But Fraser does." "They knew each other when they were growing up in Canada." Perceptive blue eyes turned to Ray. "No matter what their history might be, Fraser is with you." "That's what I keep telling myself," Ray replied, as the players left the ice. Robbie grinned. "I've seen the way Fraser looks at you, Ray. Believe me, you have nothing to worry about." "Oh yeah?" Ray inquired, his interest peaked. "So, how does he look at me?" "As if he's a Mountie about to get his man." "Cool." "And you look at him as if he is the last glass of cold water in the middle of a Chicago heat wave," he added. Ray felt himself blush. He didn't realize Fraser and he were so obvious in their feelings. Robbie must have read his thoughts because he told him, "It's obvious to Mark and me because we know how you feel about each other." "Can you blame me for feeling like I do?" Ray asked, as he watched with appreciation as Fraser took off his helmet and ran an arm over his sweaty face. "I have my own water to sip," Robbie reminded him and nodded towards Mahoney. Ray's smile widened as Fraser caught his eye. The Mountie grinned and made his way towards him. "You're looking good, Fraser," Ray told him, as his eyes scanned his body...head to toe and back again. "Thank you kindly, Ray" he replied. Ray's appreciative smile turned to a scowl as an arm came around Fraser's shoulder and Smithbauer hugged him. "Hey Robert," he greeted, then said, "Just like old times, huh, Ben?" "You played very well, Mark," Fraser said. "Better in some ways." "I keep practicing, keeping all my moves sharp." He winked then introduced himself to Ray. "Mark Smithbauer." "Ray Kowalski." "You're a friend of Fraser's?" "You could say that," was Ray's curt reply. "Excuse my lapse of manners," Fraser apologized and became extremely Mountie-like. "Mark Smithbauer, this is Detective Ray Kowalski." "There are a lot of those in Chicago," Smithbauer joked. "Your last one was a Ray, too." "Last what?" Ray inquired coolly. "Last cop I met when I was in Chicago. Vecchio, right?" Smithbauer asked Fraser. "Yes, and he is still a friend. Ray Kowalski is my present partner," Fraser explained. "Well, any friend of Ben's is a friend of mine," Smithbauer assured Ray, holding out his hand. With a stiff smile and an urge to sucker punch the man, Ray shook the offered hand. "Same here, then." "Mahoney is waving us over," Smithbauer told Fraser. "Guess he has some last minute words. Come Ben. Sooner he's done, sooner we can change, get some lunch and catch up on our lives." Fraser gave a quick lick to his bottom lip and said, "Ray and I already have plans for lunch." "I'm sure Detective Kowalski understands two friends wanting to catch up on old times," Mark said. "But if you can't, then maybe we can go to dinner." Fraser wouldn't out and out refuse Smithbauer. And, Ray would rather have them sharing lunch than dinner, so he relented, "Go have lunch, Fraser. Dief and me can go for a walk in the park. Watch the dogs catch Frisbees or something." "But Ray, we did have plans..." Fraser argued. "Plans can change. It's no biggie. We'll just make it dinner tonight." Fraser did not look happy, but Smithbauer was very pleased -- in a smug, sleazy kind of way, Ray decided. "Go on, Fraser. Enjoy yourself," Ray told him then added to Dief, "We're going to the park. I'll buy you a pretzel...maybe even let you have a hot dog with chili." "Ray!" Fraser admonished. But the blond only winked at him, then waved his good-byes. Ray was letting Diefenbaker into his car when he heard Fraser calling him. He turned and waited while the sock-clad Mountie approached. "Fraser! Where are your shoes?" "I only had time to take off my skates," he replied. "In a hurry?" Ray smirked. Fraser didn't answer the question instead he said, "We planned on spending the day together." "We have a lot of Sundays to spend together. You go to lunch with Smithbauer." "Why are you so eager for me to lunch with him?" Fraser suspiciously asked. "I'm not exactly eager," Ray corrected. "But if you go now, then you'll have fulfilled your obligations." "Obligations?" "Yeah, my mum always told me to be polite to visitors, keep them entertained...but not too entertained," he warned. Fraser smiled and leaned closer. "I only want to be entertained by you." "Good answer, Fraser." "I'll see you in a couple of hours," Fraser assured him. "I'm counting on it," he whispered and took a quick look around. When he didn't see anyone, he kissed his partner. "Love you, Fraser." "And I you, Ray," he swore, before walking away. *** Once the childhood friends changed back into their street clothes, they bid their farewells and made their way to the parking lot. "So Ben, are you still living in that hole in the wall?" "No. It burned down about three years ago," he answered. Smithbauer stopped in mid-step and looked at his friend. "Only you, Ben." "Unfortunately not. Many people lost their apartments that day." "Well I was thinking instead of sitting in a noisy restaurant, we could pick up something and go to your apartment." He stopped by a black Camry. "This is my rental." Fraser considered the suggestion and said, "I'll need to make sure it's all right with Ray." "Why would Ray care?" he asked, as he unlocked his car and opened the door. "Ray and I are roommates," Fraser explained and got into the car. "I'm sure he won't mind though." "Maybe we could go to my motel instead," Smithbauer suggested, sliding into the driver's seat. "I really want a chance to talk to you alone." What was it Ray had said? Obligations needed to be filled. "That's fine." "Great!" Smithbauer started the car and drove it through the parking lot and onto the street. "I'm staying at the Chicago Inn. It's not the Hilton's penthouse suite, but then I don't have the same resources I had a few years ago." "You're doing okay though?" Fraser asked. "Yeah. I've been through a couple of different jobs," he admitted. "My past keeps getting in the way. I guess it's true what they say -- reputation is everything." "With time you can rebuild your reputation," Fraser assured him. "You make it sound so easy," Smithbauer said bitterly "It's not," Fraser answered. "But you can do it. You made your way to the top once, and you can do it again." "Not in hockey. Not professionally." "Perhaps not, but there are other possibilities." Smithbauer's answering look was filled with animosity. "What do you know about it? You always wanted to be a Mountie, and that's what you are." "I know quite a bit about it," was Fraser's icy response. "Yeah, you do, don't you," Smithbauer relented quietly. "Sorry. I know you're trying to help. You've always tried to help me, and I don't why you bother." "Because you are my friend." "Not many people will admit that anymore," he confessed. "The scandal will disappear with time," Fraser assured him. "Well, not soon enough." "What are you doing at present?" "Besides hanging out with you?" Smithbauer asked pulling into the parking lot of his motel. "Besides that." "I'm looking at a deal that could set me up for quite some time." He laughed at Fraser's concerned look. "And it's legal. All above board. Come on up to my room. We can order lunch, then I'll tell you about it." Fraser followed Smithbauer through the lobby and to the elevator. While Smithbauer pushed the button for the fourth floor, Fraser wondered why he was feeling an odd sense of dread. Something was off about this entire meeting. They entered the modestly decorated motel room, and Smithbauer handed him the menu. "Order whatever you want, Ben." Fraser settled at a chair by the window, and glanced through the menu. It took him only a moment to decide on a turkey sandwich on wheat and a glass of water. Smithbauer placed their orders then settled on the end of the bed. He smiled and shook his head. "You look really good, Ben. Better than I remember." "Thank you." "No, I mean it. You look..." he thought a moment. "Happier." "I suppose I am." "I'm glad. You deserve to be happy." "Why are we here, Mark, and not at a restaurant?" "You're more direct than I remember," Smithbauer admitted. "It's something I learned during my time in Chicago," he replied. "It's not my intention to be rude. I just have the feeling you have an ulterior motive." The ex-hockey player sighed and nodded. "I do." "Is there something wrong? Are you in some type of trouble?" "No. I just...I need something from you, Ben. The big opportunity I mentioned. It's a book deal. A publishing company wants me to write my life story," he laughed bitterly. "Ah." Smithbauer reached into his overnight bag and removed a manuscript. He placed it in front of Fraser. "Thin Ice: The Rise and Fall of a Hockey Hero," Fraser read. "I can't stand the title," Smithbauer admitted. "But the my agent says it'll catch people's eyes." Fraser didn't answer. Instead, he continued reading, "The Autobiography of Mark Smithbauer." "This is my chance, Ben," he told him. "Chance for what?" Fraser asked. "To be something. Think about it. A book deal in the six digits. There is already talk of a movie deal. Then there are the talk shows and the lecture circuit. No more begging people for a job. No more wondering what I'll be able to own in a year's time," he reasoned heatedly. Pensive blue eyes regarded him. "So why am I here?" Smithbauer's hand gripped the table as he faced his friend. "I wanted to let you read it. I owe you that much." "And this is why you came to Chicago? To see me?" "I did come for the hockey game, but I also knew you were still in the city." "So you lied when you said you thought I was in Canada." "Yeah." "Why did you travel all this way so I could read your book?" Fraser asked. "Because I talk about everything, Ben." "Ah." A curt nod. "My agent says I have to be open. If it's going to work, I have to share myself with the public. That way they can really understand what motivated me." "I see," Fraser lied. "And it all began with your childhood." "My father, my passion for hockey, my friendship with a special young man," Smithbauer disclosed. "And it moves on to my turning my back on the game, my lies, and the saving grace of that young man I once knew." "Are you sure you aren't here to have me sign some type of release?" Fraser questioned. "I'm here because I want your consent; I don't need a release," he admitted shame-facedly as the phone rang. He answered with a brusque, "Hello." Fraser looked down at the manuscript, and opened the to the first page, but his attention was on Smithbauer's conversation. "It's not a good time." The ex-hockey player was tense. "Yeah, I do...yes..." His glance darted to Fraser then back to the phone. "Not yet. Look, I'll call you back, Charles...all right...Good-bye," he hung up and turned to Fraser. "My agent." "Publishing agent?" Fraser inquired. "No. Sports agent." His smile was grim. "He was about the only person willing to help me out." There was a knock on the door. "Must be lunch." Smithbauer answered the door and let in the waitress. While he signed the bill and took the tray, Fraser opened the book and began reading. He barely noticed the food and drink being placed before him for his attention was already held. *** Ray settled on a bench beside a budding maple tree. Spring was returning with full force. Dief settled at his pack mate's feet, enjoying the beautiful weather and his hot dog. Ray stretched out his long legs and raised his face to the sun. Only one thing was needed to make this day perfect -- Fraser. "Ray?" He opened his eyes and smiled at his ex-wife. "Hey Stella. Out for a run?" "Good guess," she replied, running a hand over her running shorts and t-shirt. "What are you doing here?" "Enjoying the weather, just like you." She looked around and asked, "Where's Constable Fraser?" "What? I can't come to the park alone?" Diefenbaker whined. "Or with Dief?" Ray amended. "Of course you can, but usually wherever you are, he's right behind." "Well, he's not here," he told her. "He's at lunch with an old friend." Stella sat beside him, a concerned expression on her face. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine." "Well, you look good," she said. "I saw your mother yesterday, and she told me you have a new GTO." Ray's blue eyes twinkled and he teased, "So, you and my mom talk about me?" "Hardly," she shot back. "We went shopping and then to lunch. She mentioned it then. She said Constable Fraser found it." "He did." Ray could not keep the warmth from his tone. "It'll be a beaut once we get it finished. So how are you doing, Stella?" "I'm good." "Seeing anyone?" She shook her head and forced a smile. "I've been too busy working." "As long as you're not pining over Vecchio," he chastised. "I'm not, and you should know better than to think that." "I do know better. That's why I'm asking," he said. "He's not worth it, you know. You deserve better than Vecchio." "He's a good man, Ray," she argued. "Sure, but not good enough for you." "You sound like my dad talking about you," she teased. "Yeah, and he was right, wasn't he?" he said with a half-hearted shrug. The smile disappeared and Stella's expression turned serious. "No. You were always good enough. We were just different." "Different's not bad," he claimed. "It can be a good thing. It can enhance your strengths." Stella was obviously taken aback by the ferocity in Ray's answer, and he appeared surprised by it as well. "Didn't mean to start lecturing," he told her. "Why do I have the feeling you weren't talking about us?" "Our differences kept things interesting," he maintained. "And caused us to drive each other up the wall," she reminded him then added. "But the differences appear to work for you and Constable Fraser." Ray tried to remain calm. "They work to our advantage most of the time." "And they make things interesting?" He had known Stella for a long time; he knew her moods, her expressions. And he knew that she was toying with him. "Stell." "Yes, Ray." His blue eyes narrowed. "Stella..." "I know, Ray," she stated. Panic began to well up in him, but outwardly he worked to appear as cool as Steve McQueen did in Bullitt. At least he hoped so. "Who told you? Fletcher?" "Really, Ray," she was clearly insulted. "I'm a lawyer. I observe for a living. I also know you. I know what you look like and how you act when you're in love. I knew for certain when everyone thought you were...dead. I saw Constable Fraser at the funeral. He wasn't grieving for a friend." "And you're not upset?" She shook her head. "For two months I thought you were dead. Then miraculously you're back. How could I be angry because you found happiness? I'd have to be a complete bitch to deny you and Constable Fraser happiness. And although I might be one at times, this wasn't one of those times." This was the Stella he had fallen in love. Understanding, supportive, caring. "That means a lot." "Of course, I should be angry that you kept it from me," she argued. "Only a handful of people know, Stella, and most of them found out by accident." "Your mom and dad know, don't they? That's why your dad stopped talking to you," she guessed. He nodded. "Fletcher told him." The puzzle pieces fell into place. "That's what the scene in the office was about." Again he nodded. "Things are better though. I think the past few months made him reevaluate his feelings. That and mum threatening him." "So does he call Constable Fraser son-in-law?" she teased. "Okay, we haven't gotten that far, yet," he admitted with a laugh and added. "I'm sorry I didnt tell you. You deserved to know, but I was scared. I didn't want you to hate me." "Hate you? Ray, despite everything we went through, I never hated you. Maybe I didn't like you sometimes, but I never hated you," she promised. "Even when I followed you all over the city?" "Well, it was close..." Ray couldn't believe it. The idea of him and Stella sitting in the park, talking and laughing as if they were old friends was one he could never imagine. But, here they were, and it felt right. *** Lunch was a distant memory as Fraser closed the book and leaned back in his chair. Several hours had passed, and while he did not read the entire manuscript, he did read a good portion, especially those parts that involved him. "Well?" Smithbauer's expression was apprehensive. "It's very interesting." He wondered if the answer was ambiguous enough. "And what I said about you?" Fraser's cheeks reddened. "You leave nothing to the imagination." And it was true; some of his sexual exploits could rival the scenes from Francesca's romances. "I treated everyone the same way," he defended himself. "I noticed that," Fraser said dryly. "You can't gloss things over, Ben. People want all the details so they can get a complete picture." "Is that your philosophy or your agent's?" Smithbauer stiffened in irritation. "So you don't like it?" "You didn't just talk about me, Mark. You discuss my grandparents...my father...my mother," he pointed out rising to his feet. "This is suppose to be your autobiography, not mine." "They have to be talked about it because they are all a part of who you are," he argued. "I'm just stating facts." Facts? They weren't just facts, Fraser wanted to inform him. This was his life, and from what Smithbauer presented it was terrible. An absent father whose sense of duty to his career overshadowed his duty to his son. Puritanical and emotionally unavailable grandparents who were determined to raise him to rely only one himself and his obligations. Yet, for this isolated and reserved young man came some idea of what life could be in the arms of another young man. Several chapters later it was revealed that his life had not improved to a great extent, at least in the eyes of the author. He was an adult, standing on his own; however, he was still isolated and reserved, and following his father's belief of placing duty to his career above all else. "Those weren't facts. They were your perception of my life." He wondered if his anger was fueled by what he had read or by how much he believed of it. "So you don't want me to publish it," Smithbauer stated. "As you have already pointed out, you don't need my permission," he was reminded sardonically. "Your opinion matters to me." "I should go..." "I wanted to discuss this with you," Smithbauer insisted. "I understand that, but there is nothing to discuss right now." "The hell there isn't! This is my life! My life, Ben! The life you encouraged me to ruin by telling the truth!" he snapped. Fraser flinched at the open hostility then demanded, "And so now I repay you by airing my private life for all to read?" "Are you ashamed of it?" Smithbauer sneered. "Does our relationship tarnish your perfect Mountie image?" Did he even know this man? Fraser wondered. The last time they had met, Mark had denied Fraser's existence. Perhaps that was for the best. "Good night, Mark." The only answer was the closing of the door. *** Eight o'clock. Eight fucking o'clock. So much for dinner. So much for an evening together. Well, wherever Fraser was, he better be having a fucking good time. No scratch that, Ray decided. He better be miserable. Ray knew he was. He was exhausted and sore. It was fucking annoying being worn out from a walk in the park. He was once again considering taking to the streets and dragging Fraser home. The problem was he didn't know where Fraser was. Of course, that wasn't because he hadn't tried. At seven, he had called Mark in search of Smithbauer's hotel, but the former hockey player wasn't at home or at the restaurant. So he was forced to sit, wait, and fume. He was only good at fuming. At eight thirty the apartment door opened. "That was a long lunch," Ray observed dryly from his position on the couch. "I didn't realize I was on a schedule," was the snarky response. What the fuck? He had expected an apology, maybe a little make-up seduction, but he didn't expect a hostile Mountie. Well, he could play that game. He had perfected it with The Stella. "Hey, you were the one who was pissed because we couldn't spend the day together," Ray reminded him. "I figured if you gave a shit, then you'd be home for dinner." "I'm not in the mood for one of your arguments," Fraser announced and placed his Stetson on the kitchen table. Oh, this was just getting better, Ray thought. "My arguments?" Ray asked as the phone rang. "Hello?" Fraser asked. "Oh, hello Robbie....No, I didn't call. Perhaps Ray did," he lowered the receiver and asked. "Robbie said our number was on their caller i.d.. I did't call so I assume you did." Ray didn't answer, he merely grabbed the phone from Fraser's hand. "Hey Robbie. You didn't have to call back." "Well, I thought Fraser might have called for Mark, but he's at a business owners association meeting," the councilman said. "It was me. I had a question, but I have my answer now," was Ray's vague answer. "Thanks for calling though." "Sure," Robbie replied, his confusion obvious. "So," Fraser asked as Ray hung up the phone. "Why did you call Mark and Robbie?" "I had a question for them." "About what?" Make me say it when you know the answer, Fraser. That sucks. "I wanted to get Smithbauer's number...wanted to make sure you were okay." "I'm a grown man, Ray," he reminded him. "I should be allowed some privacy in my life!" Ray got to his feet and stared at him in disbelief. "You want privacy, Fraser. You can have all the privacy you want." Fraser watched as Ray rose slowly from the coach and retreated to the bedroom. The slamming door echoed through the apartment. It was an odd view, this clear barrier between the bedroom and living room, between Fraser and Ray. Dief sounded a disgusted whine. "I do not need your opinion," Fraser informed him. Next, a low growl. "Perhaps I could have handled it better..." A toss of the head and a bark. "All right, I could have handled it better," he relented. And he should have handled it better. He was being unfair to Ray, taking out his frustration on the one person who didn't deserve it. He knocked once on the bedroom door and entered the room. The only light came from the bathroom, and the glow illuminated Ray's body as he lay across the bed, an arm thrown over his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ray," he apologized as he loitered by the door. "S'all right," was the exhausted response. "I deserved it." Fraser snapped into action. He moved to the bed and sat down next to his partner. "You did nothing wrong." "You should be able to go out with a friend and not get the third degree." "I should have called," Fraser admitted. "I left the hotel and started walking." "Whoa!" Ray ordered, pushing up onto his elbows. "What do you mean 'you left the hotel'? Whose hotel?" "Mark's hotel." "What were you doing at Smithbauer's hotel?" "That's where we had lunch," Fraser said matter-of-factly. Blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "IHOP wasn't good enough for you?" Once again, Fraser tried to control his temper. "He needed to speak with me..." "And he had to do it at his hotel?" was the sarcastic response. "He wanted privacy." "I bet he did." Fraser stiffened and said indignantly, "I don't appreciate what you are implying." "What? That I don't trust Smithbauer" "No. That you don't trust me," he snapped. As Fraser rose, a dismayed Ray caught his arm and pulled him back down to the bed. "Jesus, Fraser. Not you. Never you." "Well, that's all that matters, Ray," he reminded him. "That you can trust me." "I do," Ray whispered, gently stroking his lover's face with his free hand. "I always trust you. I've trusted you since the day we met." Then all words stopped as Fraser kissed him. It started as a gentle connection that quickly turned open-mouthed, desperate, full of heat and tongues. "I love you," Fraser whispered as he moved his lips along his Ray's jaw. Ray knew they should talk. Nothing had been resolved, but he couldn't get the words out. He was too focused on Fraser pulling his Rawhide t-shirt from his body, and the Mountie's teeth and tongue teasing his right nipple and driving him to distraction. "Off..." Ray moaned, pulling at Fraser's shirt. "Get it off. Want to feel you." With what Ray would swear was a growl, Fraser sat back and pulled off his Henley. He watched with hungry blue eyes as the perfect chest came into view then pushed himself up to kiss the spot right over his lover's heart. Another deep kiss was joined by hands hastily pushing away the last of their clothing. Once they were naked, Fraser pushed Ray down on the bed and stretched out on top of the slender figure. He began a slow sensual descent, kissing and licking his lover's body. When he reached the erect pulsing cock, he paused. "Fraser...Ben..." he groaned. "Please." Fraser couldn't deny the gentle plea, and he had no wish to. He took his lover into his mouth. He could never get enough of Ray's taste. Evenings could be spent just tasting every part of his lover's body, but not tonight. Tonight he needed Ray. He needed to reaffirm their connection, remind himself that this was what mattered. This was reality, not the words in Mark Smithbauer's book. He moved from the writhing body and was met by a gasping threat, "Don't you fucking leave me now!" "We need the lube," Fraser said and reached into the nightstand drawer. He felt Ray's hungry eyes on him as he squirted lube into his hand. "I love you, Ray Kowalski," he whispered, moving his lube-slicked fingers and penetrating the other man. "You are an inferno." "Want to ride you," Ray groaned. "Want to put you in me." His Ray. Issuing orders even on the bottom. But it was an order Fraser wanted to follow. He pushed himself against the headboard and stared into lust-filled blue eyes as he ran his lube-coated hand over his erection. Then Ray was there, sliding down, taking him inside, and they were both crying out at the sensation. Long drawn out kisses matched Ray's steady slow rhythm, but as he increased his speed, the kisses increase in their intensity. Fraser lowered his hand and began fisting Ray's rampant erection. As he came inside his lover, Fraser bit the base of the pale throat, a movement that brought forth Ray's own orgasm. "I gotta say, 'there is nothin' as hot as make-up sex," Ray mumbled as he rested against Fraser. "You say the same thing about an afternoon tryst," Fraser told him. "It's called a nooner, Fraser, and yeah, that's pretty hot too. So, I'm easy when it comes to you." "And I'm grateful for that everyday." A few minutes later, he whispered to his drowsing partner, "We need to get up." "We just did," was the chuckled answer. "No," Fraser corrected. "To shower...and have you eaten?" "Wanted to wait for you, but I'm too sedated to move now." "Sedated?" "Yep," Ray smiled lazily. "Sedated by loooove." "Ah." "Yeah, and your big old needle probed me real good." "Ray!" he admonished and felt himself blush. "What? After what we just did, you're shocked?" Ray teased. "I don't usually think of it as a 'big old needle,'" Fraser replied curtly as he pulled his lover from the bed and tugged him toward the bathroom. "But you're glad that I do," he pointed out, watching as the Mountie turned on the shower. "Ray," he warned. The other man merely smirked and pushed past Fraser and into the shower. *** It was an irate Ray Kowalski who showed up at the 27th the next day. True, his evening had been fine. Fantastic sex...a slow sensual shower...shared food. The evening had turned out as they had planned. Well, at least until they were settled on the couch, and Ray told Fraser about meeting Stella in the park, and their conversation. "I'm glad that Stella is finally supportive of your choices," was Fraser's reserved response. "It's about time." Stella was a bone of contention Fraser just couldn't seem to get past. Ray wasn't sure if it was because she was his ex-wife or the way she had treated Ray and then Vecchio. "Guess it's sometimes easier when there's distance," Ray answered. "My choices don't affect her anymore...just you." "But they could," Fraser argued. "What do you mean?" "If you made a decision that involved a certain aspect of your past relationship, it could impinge on her life. What if our relationship affected her life in some way, what if it brought unnecessary attention to her life and work?" Ray shook his head in confusion. "You lost me, Fraser. What are you talking about? How is our relationship going to affect Stella? People will find out and say she turned me against women?" he asked. "What if her job could be affected because of our relationship?" he posed. "Why would it? It wouldn't be if she was sleeping with a woman," Ray answered then demanded, "What is this concern over Stella?" "I'm not concerned," Fraser replied defensively. "It sounds like." "It was merely a question, Ray." "Yeah, a stupid one." "Why is it stupid to wonder what might happen if people found out about our relationship?" Fraser demanded. "My dad showed us what could happen," Ray reminded him unhappily. "He didn't speak to me for months." "I'm sorry, Ray." "Well, he's talking to us now, and it only took my death and his kidnapping to do it," was the bitter response. Fraser exhaled sharply and wanted to kick himself for his insensitivity. "The only thing that matters is that he's talking to us." "No. You don't get it," Ray told him. "What matters is us. Not Stella. Not my dad. Not Vecchio. Just you and me. At least that's what you always tell me." "I know that." "Well at least one of us knows something. All I know is that ever since you saw Smithbauer you've been acting weirder than usual," he pointed out. He didn't miss how Fraser stiffened at that comment. Okay, so something was going on with Smithbauer. But he didn't get to discuss it that night. Fraser had changed the subject, and Ray let him. He didn't have the energy to get into another argument, and he knew that would happen. When Fraser didn't want to discuss something, it was nearly impossible to get him to talk. So Ray did the next best thing. *** Ray was pulling Vecchio's files. "What the hell are you doing, Kowalski?" "Shit," Ray muttered softly then turned to the irate Italian. "I thought you were out on a case." "I was. Now I'm back," Vecchio answered. "What are you doing in my files?" "Technically, they're city property," Ray pointed out. "Right," he said then yanked the folder from Ray's hand. "Hey!" "Smithbauer," Vecchio read and cast a suspicious look at the other detective. "What are you doing with this file?" "I wanted to check something." "Why are you snooping through a file on a friend of Benny's?" "I'm not snooping!" was the defensive response. He hoped he would be able to get the file and lose Vecchio, but luck wasn't on his side. Frannie entered the squad room and made her way towards the two Rays. "I have it, Ray." "What?" Vecchio asked. "Not you," Frannie told her brother and looked at Ray Kowalski. "Him." She handed him a file. "All the information I could gather..." "Thanks, Frannie," Ray interrupted, taking her arm and leading her towards his desk. "On what? What information?" Vecchio demanded. "Information on Mark Smithbauer," Frannie answered. Ray didn't even make it to his desk. He was grabbed by the arm and pulled towards the hallway. "Hey!" He pulled away and glared at Vecchio. "No one drags me anywhere but Fraser and that's only when I'm in the mood." "Too much information, Stanley," he shot back and held open the closet door. Ray looked from the Vecchio to the closet and back again. "There something you're not telling me?" "Shut up, and get in there, or we can discuss right here why you were going through my old files and collecting information on Benny's old friend," Vecchio warned him. With a muttered, "Shit." Ray entered the closet. Vecchio followed, shut the door, and turned on the low watt bulb. "Okay, Kowalski, what's going on? Is Benny in trouble?" "Why would you think Fraser's in trouble" Ray asked. "Cause you're digging up information on Smithbauer," he reminded him. "Or are you gathering information on all his friends?" Ray leaned against a stack of paper and ran a hand through his blond hair. "He's in town for a hockey tournament that Fraser's doing." "Benny didn't mention any hockey tournament to me," Vecchio said. "I didn't know he kept you abreast of his social calendar," was the sarcastic response. Green eyes glared at him. "It's for charity. Mark Mahoney asked him to join the team." "Mark Mahoney? I didn't know he and Benny were pals." Ray shrugged dismissively. "Fraser and me had dinner at his restaurant. He saw us and asked Fraser to play on the team. You got a problem with that?" "Don't you think it's a little risky hanging out at the guy's restaurant?" "Why would it?" Ray learned from the best how to play naive. "The Board of Health has a problem with him?" "Come on, Stanley. You're a Chicago detective. Benny's a Mountie. What if someone saw you two at Mahoney's restaurant?" "Jesus, Vecchio! Straight people eat there too. I've seen them. Of course, they have their own section in the back, so they aren't distracted by the others..." "It's not funny!" Vecchio warned. "There are a lot of people who don't like the idea of gay cops, especially other cops. And you two are out there just advertising it." "We weren't advertising anything," Ray replied and shook his head in disgust. "I thought you were finally learning to accept me and Fraser." "I'm not talking about me, Kowalski. I'm talking about other people," Vecchio clarified. "I've already watched Benny fall apart when he thought you were dead. I don't want to see it again because word gets around about you two, and your back-up is a just a little late. And I don't want to stand over Benny's grave because he happened to be with you that day." Fraser last night. Vecchio today. Everyone worried about staying in the closet. Vecchio's words though. Shit, they chilled his body right down to his soul. Is that what they were doing? Tempting fate? Vecchio sighed, "Just give it some thought." A curt nod was Ray's response. "Okay. Now finish telling me about Smithbauer." "He's on the hockey team." "And jealousy has reared its ugly head," Vecchio deduced. "No," Ray snapped. "Suspicion has. Smithbauer shows up out of the blue for a charity a hockey game?" "Well, I'll admit he never struck me as a charity type of guy. You know the first time Benny and I saw him he didn't even acknowledge Benny." Any animosity Ray had for the hockey player just tripled. How could any treat Fraser like shit? Well, maybe it happened in Vecchio's day, but not anymore. "I knew he was an overbearing asshole." "That's a good description," Vecchio agreed. "But, to be honest, after hanging around with Benny for awhile he became a little more likeable. Are you sure this isn't a jealousy thing?" "I'm sure. My instincts are telling me something is wrong. Fraser's been acting weird ever since he saw him." "Weird. What do you mean weird?" Ray took a deep breath; he never had thought talking this freely was possible. But apart from all the bullshit, Vecchio was Fraser's friend. "They went to lunch yesterday, and when Fraser finally gets back after eight hours he accuses me of invading his privacy. When I ask him about Smithbauer, he shuts up. But, then he goes on about how our relationship could affect Stella's career." "He's worried about Stella's career?" Vecchio asked in disbelief. "Okay, something strange is going on." "That's what I've been saying," Ray told him. "Hey, are you guys still in there?" Frannie demanded, knocking on the door. Vecchio pulled the door open and glared at his sister. "What? We're busy." "Wonder what Fraser would think finding you two together like this?" "You found them?" Elaine peered over Frannie's shoulder. "What are you two doing?" "Trying to have a private conversation," Vecchio snapped. "Well, Welsh wants us in his office," she told him and smiled. "Unless you want me to tell him to meet you in here." "Funny. You going to start performing at Huey and Dewey's comedy club?" Ray made his way out of the closet and past the two women. "I'll talk to you later, Vecchio." "Let me know what you find out," Vecchio instructed. "I will and thanks." As he walked away, Ray heard the accusation in Frannie's voice, "Ray just thanked you? Okay, what went on in that closet?" *** Ray sipped at his coffee and waited in Mark Mahoney's office while the restaurant owner finished up a meeting with his staff. He considered calling Fraser, but he wasn't sure what to say. 'Hey Fraser, how's work? I'm fine, just collecting evidence on your friend Smithbauer.' Oh yeah, that'd go over real well. "Shit," he muttered, and began pacing again. "You okay?" Mark asked as he entered the office. "Yeah. Just thinking," Ray assured him and added, "Thanks for seeing me." "No problem. I'm a little confused as to why you need to see me though, especially when you said you didn't want to talk about it on the phone," he said. "Is Fraser okay?" "He's fine. I just had a couple of questions about Mark Smithbauer." Mark settled on his desk's edge and let a short breath. "Look Ray, if this has something to do with Fraser and Mark's history..." "It doesn't," Ray interrupted. "So is this a police investigation?" Mark prodded. "Not an official one," Ray answered. "Can you be anymore vague?" "Probably," Ray chuckled. "Can I ask you some questions?" He was regarded with a steady assessing gaze, and for a moment he thought Mark would refuse, but then the man nodded, albeit reluctantly. "How'd Smithbauer find out about the charity game? Did you call him?" "No. He called me. He said he heard about it from Bryce." "Bryce?" "Hindleman. We played in the minor leagues together, and then went to the pros about the same time. When the event came up, he was the first one I called." "So he and Smithbauer are friends?" Mark shook his head. "Not really. They were clients at the same management agency." Ray scanned through his notes. "Charlie Flaherty's their agent?" "No. He was with the agency, but he was asked to resign when the other members of the agency found out he was gambling on games," Mark explained. "He still has clients though?" "Yeah, a couple. Mainly down and out players. That was his rep. He'd pull in athletes who no one else wanted." "Why? Where's the money in that?" "All over if you're good," Mark assured him. "Talk show circuit, tell all books, that celebrity boxing show. He takes a cut off the top, a big cut." "You know if he's into anything illegal?" "Other than gambling on his clients?" "Yeah." "Drugs, underage strippers." He shrugged. "You always here rumors." "So why would someone sign with such sleaze?" Mark laughed. "I think all agents have some level of sleaze. You have to know how to play people in order to be a success." "But he's not like all the other agents," Ray stated. "No," he sobered slightly. "Think about it, Ray. You're a big time athlete. Even if you're an average player, you still made it to the pros and you're still pulling down pretty good money, more than most average citizens. All of the sudden your career is over. Injury, stupidity. It doesn't matter. If you're not a Darryl Strawberry, you're not going to get chance after chance to come back. So, your career is gone, the fans are gone, the adulation is gone. But, you miss it. You want some part of that life back." "Who wants to be Joe Blow slinging hash," Ray interjected. "Exactly. But, everyone's turned their back on you, except someone like Charlie Flaherty who promises you the money and the recognition you think you deserve." It was all interesting, but it still didn't answer the question of what was going on between Smithbauer and Fraser. Fortunately Mark's next comment shed some light. "I know Mark thinks that without Flaherty he'd be nothing." "He told you that?" "Yeah. He came in for dinner last night and spent most evening drinking at the bar. He started telling me how Flaherty got him a lucrative deal for his autobiography. He was pretty upset though. He kept saying that it's his one shot at success, and no one would fuck it up. I finally put him in a cab and sent him back to his hotel." "Which hotel?" "The Chicago Inn." Maybe it's time for me and Smithbauer to talk. "Thanks for you help, Mark. You've been a big help." Mark smiled despite his bewildered expression. "I'm not sure how I helped, but you're welcome." *** "Hey, Benny," Vecchio called in greeting as the Mountie and wolf entered the squad room. "Almost didn't recognize you without the serge." Fraser made his way towards his former partner's desk. "You've seen me wearing other clothing quite often, Ray." "Not during the day and at the station," he replied. "Ah. I suppose not." He looked over at his present partner's desk. "Would you know where Ray is?" "Out." "Out? I thought he was on desk duty," Fraser commented. "He is," Vecchio answered with a quick, forced smile. "He had to run an errand. You know, Stanley." "Yes. I know him quite well, but I'm not sure what that has to do with him running an errand." "It's just a saying," Vecchio pointed out. "Hmm." "Hmm, Benny?" "Yes. Hmm." "What do you mean by hmm?" "It's just an expression," Fraser stated. "Right." Vecchio tried not to squirm too much under the Mountie's steady gaze. "When Ray comes back from his errand would you tell him I stopped by, and I'll be at the arena for practice?" "Yeah. He mentioned that...the hockey game." When the other man didn't seem inclined to continue and seemed quite content to sit and scowl at him, Fraser asked, "Is something wrong, Ray?" "No...yeah." With an embellished sigh, Vecchio stood and pointed to the hall. "I need to talk to you." Fraser and Diefenbaker exchanged puzzled glances then followed. The wolf settled outside the door while the Mountie followed the detective into the dimly lit closet. Vecchio begin. "Let me start by saying that I really don't want to get involved in your relationship." "My relationship?" Fraser stated. "You and Stanley." "Oh, of course, Ray. But you feel it necessary to do so?" "Kowalski's worried about you Benny, and he's got me worried." "Why would he be worried?" "Because of Mark Smithbauer and what happened yesterday." "I didn't realize that police work was so slow that my relationship had become a fodder for your discussions," was the brusque reply. "Come on, Benny. Don't go all pissy on me." "I don't consider it pissy because I prefer my private life to remain so," he answered. "If Ray has a problem he should discuss it with me." "And if you don't want to discuss it then what?" Vecchio asked. "He didn't come in today and pull me aside to talk about your relationship." "Then what did he do, Ray?" "Nothing. I was the one who started in on him." "Perhaps I can make this easy for you," Fraser suggested. "Does this have anything to do with Mark Smithbauer's file being out on your desk?" A low whistle, then Vecchio admitted, "That makes it easier." "What was Ray doing with file?" "He thinks Smithbauer is up to something." "And instead of talking to me, he starts gathering evidence," Fraser finished. "Where is he, Ray?" "He was going to check on some information," Vecchio admitted. "I have to find him," Fraser told him and hurriedly exited the closet. He returned to Ray's desk and picked up the phone. He dialed Ray's cell phone number and waited. When the voice mail answered, he left a short message. The next phone call was to Mark Smithbauer's room. Once again, there was no answer, but with a call back to the front desk he discovered that Smithbauer had left the hotel. "Well?" Vecchio asked when Fraser hung up the phone for the third time. "I believe Mark Smithbauer has gone to the arena." "And Kowalski?" "If I know Ray, he'll have the same destination in mind." *** There were a few people at the arena. Scattered security guards, cleaning crews. Overall though it was deserted. That was fine with Ray. He preferred the privacy. He found Smithbauer in the locker room, sitting on a bench and lacing his skates. "Went by your hotel and they told me you'd left." "Ray Kowalski, right?" Smithbauer asked. "Yeah. Kinda funny though," Ray smirked. "What is?" "Well, first time you saw Fraser again you couldn't remember him at all. Me, you remember with no problem." Smithbauer's polite smile was gone. "If you're looking for Ben, he isn't here yet. Practice isn't for another two hours." "I know that. I'm here to see you." "Me? Why do you want to see me?" Ray placed a foot on the bench and leaned towards the Canadian. "I want to know what you did that got him all upset." "Why don't you ask him?" "Cause I'm asking you," he answered. "I didn't do anything to him." "Right. Why don't you tell me about your autobiography?" he suggested. Smithbauer stood up and pushed away from Ray. "I don't have to tell you anything." "Okay, how about I tell you about some stuff, like gambling debts you've acquired over the last two years, and an agent who'd sell you to the devil if he could make a buck, just like you'd sell Fraser." "I'm not selling Ben!" "Really? You know, when I went by your room the cleaning lady was finishing up." Grey eyes widened in incredulity. "You broke into my room?" "Nah. The door was open. I just went in to make sure nothing was missing," Ray assured him with a grin. "Being a good Samurai and all of that. Good thing I did too, cause you left your book out on the desk. I didn't read the whole thing, but I got the jist of a lot of it." The grin disappeared and he leaned a little a closer. "Just tell me how you could do that to Fraser?" "This has nothing to do with you," Smithbauer told him. "It's between me and Ben." A sharp shake of the head. "No, it's not. Cause Fraser is my business, and when something is upsetting him, it's upsetting me. And right now, I'm real upset." Smithbauer stood up and pushed Ray out his space. "This might work the criminals you arrest, but your bravado doesn't intimidate me." Bravado? This guy actually thought he was joking. A maniacal laugh tore through the slender blond, but it stopped as he threw a punch right at Smithbauer and into the locker behind his head. He had enough. Enough of people trying to rule his and Fraser's lives. Two months of his life gone because a fucking doctor wanted him as a guinea pig. His dad talking to him, but still looking at Fraser with repulsion. Vecchio reminding him that an out cop could be a dead cop. Smithbauer putting Fraser's life out there for public consumption. He smiled Smithbauer's shocked expression and pulled his hand back to his side. "Now tell me why I'm suppose to be worried about a guy who is so scared of hard work that he lets a slime like Flaherty tell him how to live? How am I suppose to be intimated by a guy who is willing to take the one person who stood by and make him a object of unwanted attention?" "You have no right to judge me," Smithbauer said. "The minute you started in on Fraser's life, you gave me the right," Ray replied. "Ben's a grown man who can make his own decisions." "Yeah, he is, but you aren't giving him any choices." Eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You take your partnership rather seriously." "It's the most important thing. Friendship, partnership. But you don't get that since the most important thing to you is an expensive house and car and people fawning all over you. You'd rather be a coward and take the easy way out." Smithbauer rounded on the detective. "What the hell do you know about it?" "Me? A lot," he admitted. "I fucked up my life until I had nothing -- no home, no family, no friends, no future. I wanted to destroy something...anything, but most of all me because I didn't think I was good enough." Curiosity won out over anger. "What happened?" "I found a second chance and took it. Then I found Fraser, and he reminded me what was important in life. He reminded me that I was good person." Smithbauer gave a knowing grunt. "He has the habit." "Yeah. He always sees the good people," Ray said. "So it really pisses me off when people think they can walk all over him." "I need this deal, Detective Kowalski." "No you don't. Charles Flaherty may need it, but you don't. You're too good a person to drag people's lives through the dirt. You're too decent to use your own name that way." "And how can you be so sure of that, detective? You don't even know me." "That's true, but I know Fraser, and if he thinks you're worth something then you must be." Smithbauer stepped away and turned his back on Ray. After a moment's silence, he took a deep breath and faced him. "You play hockey, detective?" Okay. This was weird, but Ray could go with it. "I have." "You play me, one game. First one to score wins." "And what does the winner get?" "What do you want?" "If I win, you leave Fraser alone...you forget about your little tell all and get out of Chicago." "And if I win, I go ahead and publish the book." Ray considered the bet. "You're on." "Then I'll meet you on the ice." *** Two players were on the ice, vying for the puck. Fraser made his way towards the rink and picked out Mark Smithbauer immediately. Seconds later, he recognized the other player. The bulky equipment, the helmet, the unexpectedness of his presence on the ice threw him, but finally Fraser recognized his lover. "That's Smithbauer." Vecchio nodded towards the rink. "Yes, and that's Ray." "I didn't think he was coordinated enough to skate." Fraser cut a glance at Vecchio. "He's extremely coordinated and agile." "I really don't want that image in my head," he groused. At that moment, Smithbauer body slammed Ray into the glass, and Fraser advanced like a Mountie possessed. He made it to the edge of the rink just as Ray swung his hockey stick right into the Canadian's solar plexus. As the hockey player went down, Ray advanced on the puck and headed towards the goal. With lightening moves that had helped make him a premiere player, Smithbauer stole the puck and took off down the race. And with determination that was Ray Kowalski, he was right behind him. Whether intentional or not, Fraser wasn't sure, but he watched in dismay as Smithbauer's stick caught his partner's knee. Ray flew off his feet and crashed face first into the wall. Smithbauer tossed down his stick and skated over to the motionless man. He had barely knelt down before Fraser pushed him out of the way and removed Ray's helmet. "Hey, Fraser," he groaned. "Did you see my flip?" "Is that what you call it?" Fraser inquired. "Man, even with all this padding it still hurts like a son-of-a-bitch," he grumbled and struggled to sit up. "Are you all right?" "Yeah. I'm good, just winded." "Good. Then would you mind telling me what the hell you think you were doing?" he demanded. "We were playing hockey," Smithbauer said. "And that move?" Fraser turned on his childhood friend. "You could have caused him serious injury!" "Benny, calm down," Vecchio said. "He's fine." "Yeah," Ray added, getting to his feet. "No harm done. I'm just a little winded." Fraser cradled his partner's face in his hands and examined his eyes. They were a little glassy, but there was no indication of a concussion. Very gently he ran a hand through the blond hair and felt for bumbs. "Come on, Ben. We used to crash all the time," Smithbauer joked. "He might be a little scrawny, but he's no hothouse flower." Irate blue yes turned on the hockey player. "Two months go he was seriously injured, barely able to sit up in bed. He is still on desk duty and becomes out of breath if he takes the stairs too quickly. This was unconsciousable of you." "Whoa," Ray pushed the enraged Mountie back against the plexi-glass and ran his hands soothingly along the tense shoulders. "It was my decision, Fraser. You might be pissed at him for other stuff, but not for this." Fraser took a deep, calming breath and asked, "What were you thinking?" "I was thinking about you," he confessed. "He made me an offer I couldn't refuse. If I played him and made the first goal, he wouldn't publish his book." "And if he won?" "He'd go ahead and have it published. I figured I might get lucky, so I agreed. Guess I wasn't so lucky though." Fraser shook his head in disbelief. "I should be furious with you." "Yeah? Well, I could say the same thing," he argued. "I thought we agreed, no secrets." "Understood," he relented with a soft smile. "Would you go get ready and change, then we can go home." "I thought you had practice." "I'll tell Mark I'll work twice as hard at the next practice," Fraser assured him. With a sexy smile that always left his Mountie needy, Ray promised, "You'll be working mighty hard when we get home." "You can't leave," Smithbauer told them. Fraser turned to his old friend. "The game is over. You have a clean shot, so take it and I truly hope you find your happiness," he told him and smiled at his partner. "Because I've found mine." A slight blush tinged Ray's cheeks and he shook his head in disbelief. "Oh man, Fraser. If we were alone right now..." His words were stopped by Fraser's mouth on his. A short, but intense kiss that was filled with promise and love. "Benny!" Vecchio admonished. "Could you wait until you two are alone?" "Let me go get changed," Ray told his lover. "The game's not over," Smithbauer told him and held out Ray's stick. "My last move would have had me in the penalty box, and Ray taking a penalty shot." He held the stick out to Ray. "Go ahead." "Go ahead?" asked a perplexed Ray. "You want me to take the shot?" "I'm just following the rules of the game," Smithbauer answered. They waited and watched as Ray took the stick and moved out to mid-rink. He threw the puck onto the ice, gauged the distance to the net, and shot. As it sailed into the net, Smithbauer turned to Fraser. "You win, Ben." As the two childhood friends faced each other, a sense of deja vu surrounded them. Two young boys, confiding their secrets, their dreams, their fears. There was no bitterness, no jealousy, no self-doubt or fear. There was friendship. And then the moment was broken as Smithbauer walked off the ice and towards the locker room. "What just happened?" Ray asked. "That's what I'd like to know," Vecchio added. "I thought he was a committing a criminal act." "More like an act of desperation," Fraser corrected. "And now?" Ray asked. "I believe he's had a change of heart," he smiled at his partner. "And I believe that's due in a large part to you." "I didn't do anything special," was the dismissive response. "You were protecting me." "Got to," he admitted. "It's second nature, like blinking or scratching." "That's romantic," Vecchio groused. "You get a lot of action with that line, Stanley?" "Actually, he gets quite a bit," Fraser replied wickedly. "Yeah, and if you let me go change and take me home, you'll get a lot more," Ray promised. He started off the ice, but stopped and turned back his partner. "Do you think you should go talk to him?" "He'll let me know when he's ready," Fraser assured him. Ray nodded and started thinking about what he'd say to Smithbauer. It wasn't easy, and it turned out not to be necessary because when he got to the locker room, he found it empty. *** "I can't believe how many people are here," Vecchio said in disbelief. Ray glanced around the arena and had to agree it was a good-sized crowd for a charity game. "There are a lot of hockey fans in Chicago, and there are some popular players on both teams." "Well, I don't get it. A bunch of guys chasing a piece of plastic across the ice..." "That's because you couldn't do it," Elaine informed him. She was seated beside him, dressed in a Hawks sweatshirt and baseball cap. "Hockey is a game of skill and talent." "Ray could never balance on skates," Frannie said. She sat next to Ray and was helping him eat his nachos, much to Dief's chagrin. The wolf had decided that pregnant women cut into his chances of free food. "I could skate if I wanted to," Vecchio argued. "I just always had better things to do with my time." "Please," Frannie teased her brother. "You couldn't even walk and chew gum at the same time." "Look who's talking," came Vecchio's retort. "You were banned from jump roping because you kept getting tangled up in the rope." "Will you two stop bickering or I'll throw both of you in the penalty box!" Welsh ordered. The Lieutenant was seated in the row behind them, along with Huey, Dewey, Turnbull, and Thatcher. "Actually, Detective Vecchio, ice hockey has a very rich history," Turnbull informed him. "It is believed to have originated in the early 19th century..." "That's real interesting," the Italian interrupted. "God, Ray, can you be any more rude," Frannie criticized and smiled sweetly at the young constable. "I didn't realize it began so long ago." "Oh yes, Ms. Vecchio," Turnbull assured her eagerly. "Thomas Chandler Haliburton recalled playing a form of ice hockey at his school..." "See, Ray!" Frannie asserted. "It doesn't take a lot to be polite." Ray leaned back trying to stay out of the way the cheese-dipped nacho she was waving, and tried to tune out the bickering. He wondered how Fraser was doing. The Mountie hadn't seemed at all nervous, but Ray knew he was a little concerned about Mark Smithbauer. The day after his and Ray's impromptu hockey game, the former hockey player called Mark Mahoney and told him he had a family emergency; two hours later he was gone. Fraser didn't discuss it, but Ray knew his partner was worried and feeling some degree of guilt. Ray, however, wasn't worried, nor did he feel any guilt. He was relieved. Relieved that the threat to his partner was gone. *** After a short pep talk and an order to have fun, Mark Mahoney led his team to the ice. Fraser looked over to where Ray was sitting and smiled. It was good to have his lover and their friends present. He skated around the ice, flexing his arms and legs and came to a halt in front of Ray. "No illegal moves, Fraser," Ray teased. "I don't you being sent to the penalty box." "Fraser will be saying, 'Pardon me' and 'Thank you, kindly,' when he steals the puck," Dewey joked. With a laugh, Ray warned them, "Just wait and see." *** And see they did. It was not the polite, rigid Constable Benton Fraser on the ice. This was Ben Fraser, fast, strong, agile, and all over the rink. He fell into a rhythm with his team members that set a standard that rivaled their opponents. But the game was tight and fierce. As the third quarter began, they were down by two. "I say we go all out," Mahoney told his team as they strategized. "Find their weakest spot and shoot..." "Do you have a place for one more?" A voice behind them said. Fraser turned to Mark Smithbauer. The Canadian was in uniform and ready to play. He told Mark Mahoney, "I meant to be here sooner, but my flight was late." Then he smiled at Fraser and suggested, "What do you say, Ben? Want to show them how we did it in Canada?" And show them they did. The final score was 4 to 3. Fraser made the tying score with an assist by Smithbauer; the winning score was Mark Smithbauer's with an assist by Fraser. The game was still being analyzed at the game party afterward at The Breakaway. Ray was settled at a table with the most of the gang from the 27th and Turnbull. Frannie had gone home to take care of the twins and to rest, and Thatcher had a date. "Okay, first things first," Ray told them. "I believe I won the pool." "He did," Huey complained. "I swear Ray if it wasn't Fraser playing I'd think you had the game fixed." "Oh, I see. You trust the Mountie but not me!" "How much was the final amount in the pool?" Vecchio asked Elaine, who was in charge of the money. "Five hundred dollars." "What's five hundred dollars?" Fraser asked slipping into a seat beside his partner. "The pool," Dewey told him. "You bet on a charity game," Fraser reprimanded them. "I can't believe that." "Well, your partner won," Vecchio informed him. Ray tried to ignore the patented Mountie stare, but it wasn't easy. "It was just a little money, all done in fun," he justified. "Five hundred is not a little money," Dewey stated. "Five hundred dollars." Fraser shook his head. "You are, of course, going to donate the money to the homeless shelter." "I was going to use it on the GTO." Now an arched eyebrow. "All right. Half to the shelter. Half for the GTO." And a slight tilt of the head. "Okay!" Ray surrendered. "I'll donate it all. Just spare me from do-gooder Mounties." Fraser relieved Ray of the money. "I'll make sure to give this to Robbie." "You don't trust me?" Ray inquired. "Of course I do, Ray, but you might forget," Fraser answered and looked up at the approaching figure. "Hello, Mark." The Canadian gave a slight smile. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" "No," Vecchio assured him. "Benny's just keeping Kowalski on the straight and narrow." "He's good at that," Smithbauer acknowledged affably. "That was a fantastic goal you made," Elaine told him. "Thanks, but if it wasn't for Ben, I wouldn't have made it." He grinned at the man in question and asked, "Could I talk with you a minute?" They made their way out of the noisy restaurant and found quiet in the alleyway. For a moment they stood in silence, waiting for each other to speak. It was Fraser who broke the silence. "I was concerned when you left Chicago." "I needed to see to some things, and to be honest, I wasn't up to talking to you," he admitted. "I am sorry, Mark." "I know, but you were right...so was Kowalski," Smithbauer told him. "I was being a coward. When this opportunity came along, I jumped on it. There's no going back and recapturing what I had, and it's no one's fault but mine." "What are you going do?" "That's the strangest part. After I fired Flaherty and told the publishing company that the book was a no go, I planned to go back to my father's farm and look at my options. But, before I could, I get a phone call from a publishing company, here in Chicago. They specialize in young adult books, and want to talk to me about writing a novel. It'll be based on my early years in Inuvik. If it goes well, they are interested in a possible series of books," he laughed in disbelief. "It was the strangest thing, Ben. One minute I'm packing to go home and the next Sandra Bennet is asking me to come back to Chicago and met with her." "Sandra Bennet?" "Yeah. It feels right, Ben." "I'm glad." "So, is it all right if there is a best friend in this book? Whose father is a Mountie? And who helps the title character look for hockey pucks in the snow drifts?" Fraser nodded. "I'd be honored." Both men smiled. "Well, we better get inside before Kowalski starts getting jealous," he teased. "He is rather sexy." "And off limits," Fraser warned. "What about the big blond at the table?" "Constable Turnbull?" "I should've guessed he was a Mountie. He has that look." Smithbauer threw his arm around Fraser's shoulders and led him back inside. "So, is he single?" "He's seeing someone, Mark. Even if he wasn't, I'm not sure you could handle Turnbull," Fraser advised. "Shouldn't that be the other way around?" "You haven't met Turnbull." *** "I can't believe Smithbauer spent over an hour talking to Turnbull about the game." Ray said, opening the passenger side door of his car. "Well, Turnbull is something of a fan, Ray." "A fan. Right. Fraser, you did see his face light up, didn't you? Try hero worship." Ray told his partner. Dief jumped into the back seat and Ray moved towards the driver's side. A very determined Mountie backing him against the car stopped him. "I have a bone to pick with you, Ray Kowalski." Ray arched his hips and leered. "Oh yeah, I can feel your bone." Fraser suppressed a groan and kept on task. "I had an interesting conversation with Mark Smithbauer." "Hmmm," Ray moaned, running kisses along his partner's jaw. "He had a phone call from a Sandra Bennett," he whispered in the blond's ear. "So?" "If I recall, Sandra Bennett was a bridesmaid at yours and Stella's wedding. She left law school to work in publishing." "That's a coincidence," was the evasive reply. Fraser ran his hands down the slender back and cupped the slim hips. He smiled at the answering moan and Ray's body molding against his. "You were responsible for that, weren't you?" "Nope. Sandy decided to go into publishing all on her own...OW!" He jumped at the pinch to his thigh. "You had her call Mark Smithbauer" he clarified. "Oh, that." "Yes, that." "I just called to wish her a happy birthday, and we got to talking." "And when was her birthday?" Fraser inquired. "Four months ago," he shrugged. "Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray," he murmured, and captured his partner's mouth with his own. "Hey, you two get a room!" Ray peered over Fraser's shoulder at Mark Mahoney and Robbie Simmons who were leaving the restaurant. "Jealous?" "Hell, yeah," Mark admitted. "Robbie won't let me maul him in the street. He says he has a reputation to uphold." "Should I remind you what we did early this evening in your office?" Robbie inquired and led Mark towards their car. "Good night, guys." "Thanks again, Fraser," Mark said with a wave. "We're going to get together next week for a game, right?" "I wouldn't miss it," Fraser assured him and got into the car. A flash of red in the backseat caught his way. As Ray slipped in behind the wheel, Fraser asked, "Ray, is that what I think it is?" "Your hockey uniform," Ray admitted. "I thought Mark was sending them all to the laundry." "He was, but I...shit, Fraser...I have this fantasy...and then you looked so hot on the ice." "The hockey star and the eager fan?" Fraser inquired playfully. "Oh yeah," Ray agreed as he shifted in his seat. Blue eyes lowered to the growing bulge. "Hmm. Yes, I see you like that idea." "What do you say, Fraser?" "I say, would you like to play with my hockey stick, Mr. Number One Fan?"