Disclaimer: All Due South characters, situations and duesies are the property of Alliance, Paul Haggis, the writers and actors, apportioned as the lawyers say. This story does not necessarily reflect the opinions of any of them. The plot however belongs to me. I handle all licensing for the character of Tracy. If you recognize the last name, please e-mail me about it!

Warning: I'm going to say this is TV-14, for situational material. Contains moderately strong language and some violence. If you are underage, or easily offended by mature subjects, please seek other reading material. Thank you kindly. The rest of you, enjoy, and send comments. Constructive criticism welcome and actively encouraged. No flames, unless they are witty or are hiring. Otters, live, dead or frozen are strictly prohibited.

Antipodes

Tracy was anxious, always was when it was time to meet new people for the first time. Like the first five minutes of each semester's classes. Well, it wasn't that bad anymore, usually. After awhile, you develop a pattern, the students you've had in classes before taking the edge off the new students. But this semester everyone was new. The other professors also. *Okay, so your office is half a world away. You are settling into the Windy City. But classes are going fine. You've gotten over that. Time to get on with the rest.*

Standing at the dressing mirror, Tracy was confronted by the reflection. Shoulder length auburn hair setting off a tan, even featured face. Grecian nose, highlighted by a slight widow's peak, sharp jawline. *Alright, you look presentable. A little staid perhaps, but it'll have to do.* At least this suit wasn't still wrinkled; that was always the worst, living through the first weeks after a move, even a temporary one. Your clothes waiting as you figure out what will hang out and what is going to need to be pressed. Anyway, this was probably the best one to wear. At the college, except for that first day, just about anything seemed fine. But today, Tracy had to met people outside academia. All part of the job, here in America.

Det. Ray Vecchio was having one of those days. His desk piled over with paperwork, too little sleep from yet another stake out that went nowhere. Generally a crappy day, and lunch was several hours away. Buried in his work, he didn't notice the guy talking to Elaine.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a Detective Vecchio?" Elaine couldn't place the accent. "Understand he's the contact for the New Zealand exhibit?" Elaine realized she hadn't pointed out the desk yet, and nodded him over. Why was it the handsome men were never from around here? At least some countries knew what to export. With that cheery thought, she got back to work.

"Morning, I'm Tracy MacKinacmakan." Ray stood, started to take the offered handshake, and came up short.

"I, er, was expecting a woman." He shrugged into the shake.

"No offense taken. You're in good company. I thought there was a Canadian Constable I'd be meeting. Was hoping to only go over this once."

"Take a seat. He'll be here. Speaking of, that's him." Making his way with polite inquiries and greetings, the Mountie, in his dress reds, made his way to the desk. Tracy rose to meet him, exchanging a firm handshake.

"I'm Constable Benton Fraser, you've already met Ray. I trust Chicago is living up to you expectations?"

"It's, interesting. I'm Tracy MacKinacmakan, with the New Zealand exhibit. This tour is very important; most of these artifacts have not traveled abroad before. For them to be so far away, is a great sign of trust by the Maori people."

"So, what are we talking here? Bennie, stop looking at me like that. Off- what is your rank? that wasn't in our materials."

"Professor. Just call me Tracy- I know my last name is a bit of a mouthful." Ray was looking a little at a loss. "Did you get the impression I was law enforcement?"

"Professor, I fear my briefing also led me to that assumption."

"Actually, I'm representing the Maori. The exhibit director is the only detail provided by New Zealand. I'm here on a visiting professor program. And to answer your question, detective, we are talking religious objects. As you might expect, on the art black-market, they're quite valuable."

*At least it won't be a total replay of the mask incident. I hope.* "What sort, I mean are they masks, paintings-- Fraser, if you don't like my questions, you ask them instead."

*Clearly these two have worked together before. A lot. I didn't know Consular staff worked so closely with local police. Good. I hope.* "Constable, it's okay. Mostly, it is jade objects, between the size of a fist and a loaf of sandwich bread. Pendants and clubs. Some carved wood artifacts. Several cloaks. Additionally, there are some items from the Peabody."

"If you don't mind, could you elaborate your role, with regards to our duty. I take it you aren't part of the security detail." "In the case of anything, anything, happening, my duty is to assure the safe return of the objects, and protecting their mana. Which includes helping you do the same. Detective Vecchio, I'm going to place responsibility of dealing with any local enforcement that might become involved with you. Either of you have questions before the guided tour?"

"What's mana?" *And why do I have a bad feeling this is going to be worse than sweat lodges?*

"Any others? If not, I'll explain on the way over."

Once they were out by the Riv, Tracy noticed a small problem. Who was going to get the front seat, and who would take back. "Constable, I don't want to put you out, but would you mind taking the back seat? I'd prefer talking over my shoulder than to the back of your heads. Detective, might we adjust the passenger seat to give him more leg room?" Fraser tried to aver the suggestion for his comfort.

"Yeah, no problem." He slid the seat forward a bit. Once the others were in, "Okay, we ready yet?"

"Mana is power. Think the Israelites' Tabernacle, or juju. Everything has it or can affect it. Some have more, others less. Crudely, we have less than the artifacts; we don't want to 'discharge' them. Comments, reactions?"

"Could you be more specific in the guidelines? I suspect Maori practice is different than Inuit."

"Would someone mind translating to the American? I know I'm outnumbered, but I'd like to be let in on this."

"What reference frame should I use?"

"Try movies or sports." Fraser responded.

"Ray, think about baseball magic. Like pitchers wearing the same socks for luck. They are afraid the power would get lost in the wash. Except here, the main problems are cooked food, and body-spatial. Hands are pretty neutral, above one's head is ultimate safety, but if things are kept basically torso level, it's okay. Ideal situations are long past."

"What's it with the food?"

"Cooked food has no charge of its own; mana has a way of seeping from things with a lot to things with very little. Hopefully, none of this will matter. As long as everything stays put, it doesn't. Just groundwork, just in case."

The tour went pretty well, Tracy thought. Mostly it was just to get a feel for the exhibition space, where everything was. The detective stuck to the basics; then, he was the cop with jurisdiction. The Mountie on the other hand actually noticed the exhibit itself, now and again asking questions. It was when they got to the Peabody materials, well, there was a bit of a scene.

"You didn't mention any severed heads!"

"Ray, there is no need to shout. This is a museum."

"They're on loan from an American institution. And yes, they are controversial. I overrode the inclusion of the complete lot offered, a few that I thought were more appropriate for strictly research purposes. But they do reflect part of Maori culture."

"Remind me not to complain at your next Inuit story. Unless it involves this, in which case I don't want to even have to ignore it."

"You are overreacting again. Tracy, I think we are going to need a little more context. In case we have to field questions."

"Know any good places to eat? Local color."

They went with Italian, a little place named Mama Mia's, complete with red and white table cloths, and the choice between booths or sitting at the counter. Ray felt a tad silly; the food here was great, but... well, so what, one's a Canadian and the other from New Zealand. Hustling the others into the booth, he shouted in Italian towards the kitchen. Sliding in he burbled, "Hope you don't mind but there aren't any menus here." It didn't take long for a basket of bread sticks to show up, and inquiry about beverages. Ray ordered coffee, with some flavored syrup, Fraser selecting milk. Tracy, after making sure the others didn't mind, went ahead for a glass of wine.

"Okay, just to recap. The Maori are Polynesians, but with Washington or Northern California weather. All the mammals were brought in, and in the 18th century Captain Cook rediscovered New Zealand. Then all hell broke loose."

"Basically. Up to then, warfare had a certain balance. Heads were preserved both as a sign of respect for loved ones and as a way of keeping dead enemies to taunt. You can tell the difference by the lips. Maori consider bared teeth animalistic. Kin were preserved lips closed. When warfare got too extensive, heads held hostage would be swapped. But then the rifles came. All out war ensued, and an arms race. It was a terrible time."

"You said there were heads you vetoed including. Why?"

"Towards the end, it just wasn't just old heads being traded for guns. Sometimes slaves were mokoed only to be killed. It got to be that every notable had to fear sleep, least someone chop his head off to buy munitions. Some of the heads in the Peabody collection are obviously from this period. One is just a boy."

"I thought our perps were sick. That just takes it though."

"You included some of the heads though."

"It's part of the Maori, and as a Kiwi, I can't hide it."

"Kiwi? Thought that was a fruit." Ray nearly spit coffee on the first word.

"It's also a flightless bird."

"Whence the European population derives the moniker. Kiwifruit are originally from China."

"It's a conspiracy. You all make these things up, to bamboozle hapless Americans, when you come to visit."

"I have to apologize. Ray has had to deal with too many Northwest Territories related cases, ever since I showed up. He likes to dramatize."

"You never apologize to me for them happening."

"Gentlemen, please. Tell you what. I have a petty expense account. In the interests of cross-cultural understanding and working harmony, I suggest that the Detective pick some American activities for us all to experience. As long as the receipts aren't too high, my treat."

"Deal. How's about tomorrow night?"

"Fine. When and where?"

After some dickering back and forth, they decided it would be easiest to swing by the college to collect Tracy. *Don't I know anyone with a car?* After dropping the prof back at the college, they headed over to the Consulate.

"What are you planning?"

"Never you mind; you'll find out when he does. Think he'll start using my name? Or is that a Commonwealth trait?"

"You haven't told him to. And I use your name."

"Fine. What's it with his last name? Macconnackmac?"

"MacKinacmakan. It is a little unusual, must originally be from a remote region of the Highlands. Perhaps one of the smaller islands."

"So now you're expert on New Zealand?"

"Of course not; I'm referring to Scotland. It's not a name I've run into before."

"Here you go. And tomorrow, bring something casual to change into." ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

Ray was not amused. He'd thought this would be perfect; okay, not perfect, but at least fun. After all, there was nothing he'd be able to show them as confusing as Inuit tracking procedures, or whatever the professor was going to come up with. But he'd thought he'd at least win. After all, bowling is an American sport. Sure, the first few frames, he was wiping the lanes with them. Then, then they started talking how it was just like hurling or some damn thing, but without the brooms, and a lot of other things he simply didn't understand. Sounded a hell of a lot different. Still, after that, they managed to nearly always pull a spare, when not stringing strikes together. *You had to bet drinks.*

"Just one question, professor?"

"Call me Tracy."

"That's the question, don't any of you have proper first names?"

"Pardon?"

"Well, Bennie here has two last names, you've got a girl's first name and a last name that repeats."

"Surely, you've met male Tracys before? You have an actor named Stacey."

"What? Yeah, but I don't run into them. Isn't he from Australia?"

"You know, the Constable has two first names but no last name."

"Really?" Ray bent in closer as Fraser sputtered.

"Fraser is thought to have started as a nickname, taken from the French. MacKinacmakan, well, who knows what it started out as. You know Benton, we should try to find a Gregory MacGregor, or someone with five family/given names strung in a row. Then he could really have a good snit." Tracy looked over towards the detective.

"I once knew a Kenzie Mckengye."

It just got worse after that. They started going into the fine points of shinty, and then a strange problem about hockey, until they realized they weretalking past each other.

"Finally! You can even confuse each other. Run back over that, I want to savor the moment."

"Ray, it is just a matter of the predominate form of hockey. New Zealand doesn't get a lot of pond freezing, so playing on ice is less common."

"While certain parts of Canada can't manage to find a snow-free field most of the year."

"So when I say hockey,"

"He'll be lacing up skates."

"And when Tracy here says it."

"I'll be looking for my spikes."

"Doesn't anybody play any real sports where you're from?"

"Football is good and dangerous. Particularly when there are Aussies to smash into a pulp."

"Is that soccer or rugby?"

"Rugby. Maori prefer to headbutt in brawls, rather than with soft balls."

"Wait one moment, I thought this was football."

"Not American football." chimed Fraser and Tracy. "That's just silly, Ray." finished Fraser.

"Though we do get your Superbowl. Bloody early in the morning for me though."

"So hockey and football refer to different things depending whether it is Canada or New Zealand?"

"Between Britain and New Zealand, for football. Europe considers soccer football."

"While our football leagues are for rugby."

"And Canada?"

"We don't play football. We leave that to Americans."

*Somewhere, the Universe is laughing at me.* What the hell, let's go for broke. "So what is this hurling?"

"What about the caber toss?"

"He means curling. I think, it's hard to tell." replied Tracy.

"What the hell do brooms have to do with it."

"Curling." The others assented in synch. Tracy directed Benton to explain.

*Why do I even ask.*

"...actually, curling is starting to catch on in the States."

"It's a conspiracy. Like bad cop and worse cop."

"Should we let him in?" questioned Tracy.

"Do you?"

"Well, it is his country."

"Just spill it, or I'll have to run you both in for harassing a cop."

"It's a Scottish thing, you wouldn't understand." lobbed Tracy.

That left Ray momentarily speechless.

*I'd love a snap of that.* "Are you timing this?"

"It may be a record setter. Ray?"

"Explain now. Remember, I came straight from duty."

"Meaning..."

"I think we better do as he says."

*Oh, dear.* "It's about emigration."

"And immigration."

Ray was glowering at them both, very seriously.

"We're both of Scottish descent, from countries with a fair amount of Scottish resettlement."

"That remained at least nominally in the Empire much later than the colonies. Ray, you might want to breathe."

"Curling and shinty are from the old country. Rugby, well, just say it was easier to beat the English at their own game, than teach them ours."

"Both of you are sitting in the back."

"Ray, are you not talking to me?"

"No, I am not killing you. Which is more than you deserve."

"Oh. You know, it's not as if we planned this. You're being a poor sport, after Professor MacKinacmakan split the bar bill with you."

"That's all you can say, after you two tag-teamed me? And stop taunting me with your ability to say his last name."

"That wasn't my intention..."

"I'm not talking to you. Pick you up tomorrow?"

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

Ray groused through the week. Fraser was extra subdued. Tracy, when around, restrained non-work chatter to the barest of joking nips. "Bennie, Ma wondered if you wanted to come to supper tonight. Tracy, you too." Normally, Fraser would have corrected the grammar. He seriously doubted Mrs. Vecchio was inviting the professor. Still feeling contrite, he let it go.

"I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"Can you meet Fraser at the Consulate?"

Through the rest of the day, Ray smiled to himself. He was going to get his revenge. He had never thought of family dinner as a weapon, before Bennie. A battlefield, but never a weapon. His wicked glee of anticipating the Kiwi pinned down in a mass of Vecchios had him humming along through the stack of paperwork Lt. Welsh plopped on his desk.

Tracy arrived at the Consulate early, feeling just a mite silly with the potted plant. It wasn't a standard hostess gift, but wasn't really sure what was the custom here. Wine was a little too coals to Newcastle. *Not to mention I know nothing about what is available here.* Noticing the Constable was on guard duty, Tracy faced the street, trying desperately not to laugh. It would be rude and not very dignified. *Most importantly, much too American in London.* A complete breech in the rules of engagement. A pleasant smile, and a bobbing plant was the best Tracy could manage though. *Get yourself together. It's not funny at home.* Somehow, here in America, it was terribly funny.

*Look. They're both doing it. Must be a genetic defect.* "Professor, you'll be riding in the back. Yes, I know. As the bells strike, not a moment before. And Bennie, not a word about my traffic infractions." Ray, so busy with his repartee, didn't even notice the plant. His outburst did steel the professor into slightly better control. As the shift ended, Benton walked over, Ray popped the door, Tracy sliding into the back seat. Fraser, noting what a nice plant Tracy had selected, released the seat, and got in.

"Evening, Ray. Tracy."

"Dragon Lady punishing you again?"

"She is my superior officer, and guard duty is not always punishment."

"So you admit it was today?"

"Nothing of the sort. How were classes today?" He turned slightly to the backseat.

"Fine. Today was Polynesian Topics, and Gender, Society and Identity."

*What kind of course title is that?* "So, what is that second one about?" *Vecchio, you know you don't want to hear this.*

"Comparative anthropology of gender and sex roles. Usually, it runs pretty good. But I seem to have some, well, sophomoric students. Hopefully they'll settle down shortly."

"So what are they doing, shooting spitballs?"

"Not that I've noticed. Mostly, they, well, back home I'd think them Wallys and move on."

*Don't understand it. But he doesn't seem to be babbling.* "So, how was your day?"

"The usual. Turnbull managed to jam the fax machine. And reroute all incoming calls."

"And you ended up on guard duty?"

"Well. He was supposed to be on guard duty, but after all that, the Inspector put him to oil soaping the Consulate."

Ray had still to notice the plant when his mother greeted them at the door. So it took a moment to register why she was pointing out the new guest's good manners. *Great.* Well, that was to be expected. Maybe it would give the Professor a false sense of security.

He'd made a miscalculation. He'd made assumptions, using Fraser as his guide. Oh, Tracy was taken aback, at first. But then, he laid in with gusto, hanging back just a little, pulling his cues from the natives. He seemed to have a knack for having something to add to the conversation. Not shop talk like in the car. Ray had to content himself with the interplay between Frannie and the visitor. *At least some things are constant.*

Fraser was intrigued at the interaction of the Vecchios and Tracy. He'd never had an opportunity to observe how they treated guests. He had been very overwhelmed by them; Tracy was handling them much better. Ma was being charmed, and found little need to force food. Instead she just chided Ray about not having such a healthy appetite. Tony was deftly redirected through questions.

Frannie decided on playing it cool with the professor. She'd figured the direct approach wasn't the right tack; had certainly flustered the Mountie. Not that this was the same; this was a more worldly man, educated and all. She flirted, tried to pull him to talk, and did all the things she'd read in her magazines.

Ray was not finding his revenge rewarding. Somehow, his ambush had turned into, well, something not even approaching an ambush. Instead, Mackinnacmackinac or who ever was ingratiating himself with the family. Not to mention he wasn't running from Frannie. His little sister, who was goo-gaing over this Kiwi. Somehow, Tracy had tempered Frannie's tactics. Sure, she was trying; that was obvious. Just less apparent outside of Cook County.

After supper, Ma Vecchio shooed Ben away from kitchen and into the front room. "Me and Frannie can handle the dishes. You boys go and sit." Ray had some little errand to rush off on, and Tony had lumbered off out back, leaving Benton to entertain Tracy.

"Sure are a friendly bunch. Is it always so boisterous?"

"Ray says they only attack the ones they love."

"Droll, very droll." "Or have I misunderstood?"

"Misunderstood what?" Ray interjected as he came back in, dropping into his seat."

"Your warning to me my first supper."

"Ray, your mum is a great cook. I'm really going to have to put some time in at the gym tomorrow. Unless one of you can suggest outdoor activities?"

"There's a good running trail at the park."

"Which is only safe because you have a wolf." "Wolf? That's a joke, right?" By the serious looks, Tracy knew it wasn't. "Sometime, I'd like to hear that story."

"Trust me, you don't. It will just start him on stories of Runamuckluk..."

"Tuktoyaktuck."

"Whatever. The point is, they are all about caribou and getting stuck on ice floes."

"I take it you're from some pretty wild country. Have you been down here long?"

"A little more than two years. How long is the exhibit going to be touring North America?"

"I've got two semesters here, three months in Montreal, then on to New York, and D.C. the next year. Then it's back via Los Angeles and Hawaii. Less than two and a half."

"Starting with the best, and finishing with paradise?"

"We'll see, Ray. But you're going to have to prove it."

"Really."

"I think he's challenging you."

"You're on."

In the course of the next fortnight, Tracy was given the native's tour of Chicago. Ray's humor improved as he set himself to defending Chicago's honor. That he never knew what was going to be perplexing to MacKinacmakan was the extra icing. How was he to know Tracy had never had a twinkie?

"I can't believe you sharked him. Sharked a shark in his home waters." Ray was impressed, somewhere under his disbelief.

"I won fair and square. That he chose to think I didn't know how to shoot was his own doing."

"You're the one who had him go over the rules. If that isn't sharking, what is?"

"Oh, that's what shark means. My mates had been wondering."

"That was real cocky. Do you often try to get killed?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about."

"You saw the size of those guys. Convincing him you'd never played pool."

"I haven't." Ray did a double-take and ran a light. "But I'm one demon at snooker and billiards."

"Yeah, well, we're just lucky he let us go. I still can't believe he forked it over."

"It wasn't like he had much of a choice."

*They are all insane. Not the same insane, but insane all the same.* "Like the three of us could have taken all of them."

"If you had proper gun control, yes. But that wasn't what I meant. He had to pay up because of his 'buddies'. Reneging would have been very bad form."

"Whatever you say. I'm still shocked Bennie didn't report you to me."

"Why would he do that?"

"He's the reason we can't bet real money in poker."

"Ray, that would be gambling. Tracy, however, was not. Though had we been in your precinct, some of the other patrons probably should have been brought in."

"Let me get this straight. Playing pool with sharks isn't gambling?"

"Well, it is foolhardy. But in the legal sense, no. It was a contest of skill for a purse."

"I'll keep that in mind."

As the exhibit was going along without any serious problems, a rhythm fell into place. Tracy invited Fraser to cultural events, and over to the university gym. Occasionally, Tracy would round out a gathering of cops with Ray.

Welsh noticed it one day. Something was different. What is it? *Red isn't here all the time.* Not gone; just not always around. More of Vecchio's cases were not typed with perfection. His filing wasn't magically done. Sometimes, the detective even ate at his desk. "Hello, Professor." started to replace some of the "Hellos" once for the Constable.

Thatcher had sensed a change. It had been subtle, just outside her cognition. And then it dawned. *That Detective, he's not always showing up.* He still came around; there were still the reports on tangential cases crossing her desk. Fewer, and less convoluted in their relation. There was something else. An ease that the Constable hadn't had before. She didn't have to cut into his answers, or redirect them as much. He even seemed to have a life. Not enough to cut into his work; he just stopped being available for every extra task.

Benton was learning new parts of the city. He'd seen them before, but not spent much time there. His evenings were no longer split solely between cases, reading , and the occasional Consulate function. "Aren't these tickets for shows setting you back?"

"Half the time I get one for free, privileges of being a prof. Having someone to see them with, is worth the price of half a ticket. The rest of the time they are comp tickets. Seriously." *Not to mention people keep thinking you're visiting military.* "Are you ready to defend yourself?" Tracy lifted the foil.

It had been a while since Fraser last crossed swords; after University and R.C.M.P. training it was rare to find an opponent. *Rare to find any one, period, most of the time.* His moves were just a little too slow, too wide and out of form. He was holding his own, but barely. When the end came quickly, all at once, he suspected Tracy had been holding back.

"How many years has it been?"

"Over a decade."

"Then I'll have to whip you back into shape. Though I suspect it won't be too long before you'll be pushing me. Ten years can't hide natural talent. If I don't get out of here, I'll be teaching class in this gear. Pub after work?"

"Meet you there." Some of these new places weren't particularly far from his usual haunts; he'd just not noticed them. Having never really spent much time in Canadian cities, except for schooling, these weren't places he'd even thought to look for. That they were here, well, Chicago wasn't as strictly different as Ray liked to think. ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

Ray kind of missed having the Mountie around. He didn't know that was it; just noticed not having a full schedule. Extra time on his hands to fill. Not as much time replacing clothes. Or badgering the dry cleaners. The irritating things, that had become part and parcel of knowing Fraser, had slipped away. Leaving a certain emptiness, that Ray couldn't quite identify. ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

"Dief, you are getting soft." He turned to Tracy. "I have been having problems with him about junk food." He turned back to Diefenbaker. "You are a big mooch."

"Why do you hold his head like that?"

"He's deaf."

"A lip-reading wolf? How did you teach him that?"

"He's self trained. At least I think so. He'll save you if he can see."

"Diefenbaker. You must stop eating junk food. People will think you're an American." "Do Americans have a deficient palate? When I go into a dairy, I'm always assaulted by a dizzying array of over sugared items that don't actually have a taste."

"Dairy?"

"The little stores, that here generally have petrol pumps."

"Convenience stores. Do yours have a better selection of items?"

"Generally can get something edible. When you need milk, or a quick nibble."

"I have found that in America that would be more a Mom & Pop. A grocery not part of a supermarket chain. I've also heard them referred to as bread stores. Further south in the state."

"What would asking for a dairy give me directions to?"

"Either a creamery or a farmer, depending on the person asked."

"So, you're saying even within the state, words don't mean the same thing?"

"Apparently there is a dialect boundary somewhere across the middle."

"That continues to the east?" "Washington D.C. is in the South. New York is Eastern"

"A people separated by a common language?" *Good thing I learned about this early on. While I have some friendly natives.* That will be Zealander to whatever Chicago speaks, by way of Canadian, and then New York and D.C. via Chicago. *It's just like the good old bad days.*

"Detective, I've learned you've been holding out."

"Wasn't me."

"Pretending that Americans have a unified English."

"What are you getting at?"

"Is it, or is it not true, that Chicago, New York and D.C. will have separate language peculiarities. Such as the ones you were upset with Canada and New Zealand?"

"Who's the the snitch? Come on, you Huey? Maybe you?" The others just gave the detective bemused shakes of the head. "Who spilled? Yeah, it's true. But not as much if you were, say going to Atlanta or Boston. Or out west. New York is faster, and half the time it isn't English, or not yet English. D.C. well, barely anyone is actually from there, so there'll be some drawl but not overwhelming. If it's something we'd understand they should catch on. All else fails, find a Midwestern tourist to translate."

"And how do I distinguish the Midwesterners?"

*Damn.* Ray could spot them; but as much as he might like to think them all alike, it wasn't quite true. "Forget I mentioned it." ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

The weather was starting to catch up to Tracy. It had been the end of winter in New Zealand on departure, and while the tail end of their summer was okay, now it was autumn. Which meant scattered days of rainy winter. Seasonal jet lag had kicked in, and soon it should be summer, but it would be winter. Tracy was getting grouchy. It didn't help that no one seemed to notice the bad weather.

Ray liked this time of year. Okay, it was self preservation. You had to be outside. Take in the colors of the changing leaves, the crisp air, the clear skies. It was the last reprieve before winter. It was a good time to indulge Bennie's walking habit, tramping through woods or along trails. Even just around town.

Benton found this time of year sort of melancholy; not for the weather itself, but because it was a false promise. Winter never came to Chicago. It would snow, even manage to accumulate a little. But then it would melt away. There would be slush, and blacked snow, instead of the pristine expanse of enveloping white.

*How did this happen?* Usually, it was Fraser who noticed these things. *Guess he's rubbing off.* "So, Tracy, want to come down to the park with me and Bennie Saturday morning?" All he got was a hrumpf. *Fine.* Maybe Bennie would have an idea.

"Notice anything about the professor?"

"Huh? Sorry Ray, I was just thinking of the Territories."

"I think Tracy's getting homesick himself. I can't imagine being that far away for the holidays."

"I take it you tried to get him to come down to the park?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't get through the funk he is in. He's worse than you were."

"Really."

"Sure. Nothing else, I could always let you nearly get me killed."

"I don't think that would be a good tactic."

"My point. Any ideas? I mean, I don't think he's going outdoors much, and that is a big no-no. Winter is long enough without starting it two months early."

"I think I have an idea, let me do some checking around. I'll tell you after work"

Ray couldn't believed he'd gone for this. Oh, that it would motivate Tracy, that wasn't in question. Challenge, physical harm and confounding the American; irresistible combination. Ray couldn't believe he, a Vecchio, had agreed to three-way, free for all field hockey. Okay, maybe the hockey. But this wasn't hockey. It was shinty, ty obviously meaning to whack with a stick, and shin being just one of the places that might be impacted. Where Fraser scrounged up the equipment he didn't want to know. He wanted to believe no Americans actually did this for fun.

With three people, one without a clue, they were playing at shinty; basically drills. Keep away, continuous passing. Batting that damn ball overhead. They alternated between ganging up on him, and swapping who was partnered with him. "Enough. Time out. Umpf." Ray couldn't breathe.

"Sorry Ray." *I've got a line backer worth of lunatics on me.* Ray tried to get out from under the worst of it as his tormenters untangled. It took him awhile to get his breathing even vaguely regular.

"We didn't break him, did we?" Tracy laughed while breathing hard.

"Ray, can you speak? Try sitting up." With some assistance, Ray did manage to get propped up. He tried talking but his breathing was still too ragged.

"You... two... are a... menace."

"I think he's basically okay. Nothing seems broken. How many fingers am I holding up?" He raised his pinky and ring finger.

"Two. I need some water." After he'd gotten a squirt. "I think that is enough shinty today."

"We better get you to some ice before you're a talking bruise. Up we go." Ray found himself being dragged up to his feet and steadied by Tracy. Benton brought up the rear after gathering the stuff."

Ma Vecchio was not amused when she came in to find her son a giant ice compress in the kitchen. "Caro, what happened? Boys, what did you do to him?"

"He stopped and we didn't."

"Both of you?" Fraser nodded sheepishly. "What were you doing?" She looked at her son.

"Getting fallen on. I needed a breather and they knocked it out instead." His mother looked at him harder. "Playing shinty."

Tracy and Benton decided to make a retreat. "That was fun. Pity about Ray. Now we probably won't get him to agree again."

"Either that or created a monster. Out for revenge." Tracy seemed to be in much better spirits.

"He's not going to be much fun to be around for a couple of days. I was digging around in the anthropology collection room and found some badly cataloged materials from your part of the world. After work Tuesday, you want to take a look at them?" [insert scene break here}

Thatcher decided she needed to keep him late, so it was well past nine by the time he made it over to the college. "Lucky I thought to grab the keys; everything is locked up." Tracy rattled them. The hall lights had been lowered on a timer, so they made their way to the elevator through the dim corridor. Fortunately, the elevator was still at normal illumination.

"What will we be looking at?" Fraser asked as the lift made its descent.

"Pretty mixed bag. Basically I want to figure out what we can identify so they know to check harder on what the rest is." Tracy was cut off by the elevator jolting to a halt. "Maybe we aren't going to get to it tonight." The professor reached to call security for a rescue, only to find a empty compartment. Then the lights went out.

"Hold this. I've got to light a strike." Fraser found he was holding a lit emergency taper. "Thank you. Any ideas on how to get out of one of these?" Tracy directed the candle around, tapping the door open button.

After trying to pry the doors open, Fraser pointed to the roof panel. "Maybe we are completely between floors."

"You'd better put your tunic aside. Probably be a greasy mess up there. Want to give me a hand up?" Benton shed his red serge and linked his hands to give Tracy a boost. Tracy managed to get the panel off and pull through the access. Looking at the mechanicals in the dim light, Tracy called down. "Any idea what I should look for?"

Fraser didn't get a chance to answer, as the car shuddered to life. Tracy came falling back through, pushing Benton to the wall. The candle, now extinguished, rolled on the floor. In the dark, it took a moment for him to register the kiss. As the lights came on, he was confronted by Professor MacKinacmakan's startled eyes. Tracy managed to back away and grab the candle off the floor as the doors opened.

The maintenance man was taken aback when the elevator disclosed two people. He tried spluttering an apology; he'd thought every one was gone for the night, and had forgotten the 'closed for repair' sign back at the shop. Fraser was able to get his tunic back on while the professor assured the man that it wouldn't be reported. "We came in after hours. Glad it was just repairs and not an actual breakdown. We'll leave you to your task."

*I can't believe I did that. Just kissed him.* Tracy's mind roiled with the consequences. The Constable would be offended. Would he tell Ray? *That's what I need, an enraged cop.* Oh yeah. Real smashing job tonight.

Fraser was being left behind as Tracy walked down the hall quickly. He had to break into a jog to catch up. They were going to have to hash this out; it would be more awkward not to. It wasn't a situation any of his grandmother's books had prepared him for; a little corner of his mind tried to determine what the section title would be. *Just be direct and even. We're reasonable men.* Before figuring out what to say, he grabbed Tracy by the arm. He managed to start a halting preamble, before his mind seized up. The next thing he knew, he was stepping back from kissing the professor.

For a moment, they just stood there. Looking at each other, trying to read what the other was thinking. Collecting their own thoughts. Seemingly with no volition, they kissed again. A long, tender kiss in the glow of the sodium light outside the entrance. Tracy, after they broke apart shook out first. *We've got a maintenance man in here, any moment someone might walk by outside.* "I think we should call it an evening."

"Ah, yes, it is getting late." That was all they said as they walked in silence out of the building and to where their paths parted. Fraser was numb. The walk to his apartment he barely noticed, automatically avoiding the dangers along the way, not even hearing the thanks and appraisal from the woman he saved from being run over. He made his way up the stairs to his apartment, through the door and dealt with his uniform without thought. After he sat on the bed, he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten there. His mind started to grind back to life. He tried to put words to his thoughts. Lighting one of the lamps, he opened the foot locker to pull out his journal. He sat down, staring at the page holding a pen. "Son, you look troubled. What's on your mind?"

This was the last person Benton wanted to see right now. His dead father was standing to the head of the bed. It was the depth of his confusion that he didn't notice his dad wasn't in either a parka or dress reds, but dressed casually. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Which is why I'm asking." His father sat down next to him. "Tell me about it."

"I was kissed."

"So far I don't see a problem. Continue."

"And I kissed back."

"So what are you doing here?"

Benton just stared at his dad, incapable of forming words, much less speech. His dead father just looked back, when he noticed his son wasn't getting the message. He wrestled with how to word this; alive, he'd never had this talk with Benton; dead, it wasn't any easier. "You're not acting like someone who has come back from a date. Can't just run away and not finish what you've started."

"It, it is complicated."

*G-d, how old is he?* "Nonsense. She kisses you, you kiss back, and either you finish your date, or you ask her out. Simplicity itself, really."

"He's a man."

It took a few beats before the ghost was sure he'd heard right. "Say again?"

"A man kissed me and I kissed him."

"The cop kissed you?" came out with a little more shock than he'd even intended.

"No!"

*Calm down. You can't help him if you lose it.* "So a stranger kissed you and you kissed him back?"

"No."

"Son, I can't tell you how to live your life. I do think you need to figure out your feelings." *New meaning to 'they always get their man.'* "I'm going to leave you to your thoughts, but I have a question." Fraser looked at his dad with trepidation. "Is he an honorable fellow?"

"Yes. You'd like him." Benton noticed his father had gone. He lay down to think. Did he enjoy Tracy's company? *Yes.* Had he felt uncomfortable at any point before the kiss? *No.* Did he enjoy the kiss they'd shared. That was much harder to answer. He turned it over and over in his mind. *I think I did.* He'd thought it, finally. *So what do I do now?* With that thought, he went to sleep.

*I've kissed a Mountie in uniform. Right where anyone could see.* Tracy lay on the bed, still fully clothed. *I can't believe you did that. I can't believe he did that.* Tracy got up and stalked around the room. *G-d he felt good. Is there a prayer of this working?* Tracy stopped by the mirror, really looking at the reflection, trying to imagine Constable Benton Fraser standing behind, the two of them a couple. *Either this is ecstasy, or I'm in hell.* ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

Ray couldn't take it. Neither of them were talking, just sitting there subdued. "So you're a couple of klutzes; I'm not saying I forgive you for falling on me, but you've got to move on."

"What was that Ray?"

"You two have barely said a word not related to the exhibit. Not to me and not to each other. I'm the one that got hurt." When they didn't respond, he hit his hands on the desk and stood up. "Both of you, get up. I've got lots and lots of paperwork to deal with because of you." Ray herded them with a hand on the shoulder of each, out of the Bullpen and out to the storage room. Opening the door he pushed them in. "I don't want you coming out until you are back to your normal, annoying, selves."

They just regarded each other, Tracy looking around the small space, trying to avoid eye contact. "I have something to say, and I'm not sure how to say it." Tracy looked back at him. "I did a lot of thinking last night." *You've got to do better than that.* "I'd like to continue seeing you." It had been hard to get it out.

Tracy's heart flipped over. *Did I hear that right?* "Continue seeing me?"

Fraser was scared; he'd agonized over this. If he was just going to be rebuffed... "Well, yes. Like we have, but..." *Spit it out.* "calling a date a date." Tracy just looked back at him. He was getting antsy, thinking this was all a big mistake.

"Dating. You think we have been dating?"

"Have I misunderstood?" The anxiety was creeping into his voice.

*What can I say?* "Would you like us to be dating? Are you okay with what we have been doing?"

"Yes." Fraser was having a hard time breathing; his chest felt like a current was running. He needed to say something else, something more. "But..."

*What am I doing to this man? Help him, Tracy.* "But what? Take your time, I'm not going anywhere until you're ready." Tracy ran a hand on his shoulder and upper arm, trying to comfort the Constable.

Fraser couldn't finish. It had just been too much, all hitting in a wave. He'd always had problems with handling his emotions. All he could do was draw Tracy into a hug, resting their cheeks together. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes.

"I understand. We can go slow. Would you like to go to dinner tonight? A dinner date. Maybe some dancing?" Tracy was holding him tight, arms crossed against his back, fingers moving on his shoulder blades. He was mumbling something, but he was too choked up to be intelligible. Tracy made a guess. "Just wear something casual, not one of your uniforms, and not plaid flannel. Nobody has to know who you are." Tracy slowly let go, careful to assure the Canadian. Giving Fraser a moment to recompose himself, Tracy changed tone. "I don't know about you, but I think this closet is a little cramped. Ready to deal with Americans?"

"Just about. Who picks up whom?"

Tracy couldn't stop the laughter, but reached for Fraser's hand to let him know he wasn't being ridiculed. *Such the gentleman, trying to figure out the etiquette of the situation.* "If this had been planned, we could have met at the pub and then gone over together. Can you conveniently get to the college? 7:30 okay?"

"It's a date." They just smiled. Which was good considering Vecchio had decided they'd been in there long enough and that it was lunch time.

"You conspiring in there?"

"Yes, detective. Thank you for giving us the time; we hadn't come up with anything to do to you today before getting in."

"Ray, you're in the way if you want us to come out." ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

Benton didn't like lying to Ray, even if it wasn't really lying. He was going to be spending the evening with Professor MacKinacmakan, and he would be late if Ray couldn't drop him off. And it was true it had been last moment and that he needed to change. Somehow, that didn't make him feel real good about it. He turned his attention to the matter at hand, knocking on Tracy's door.

*It's not possible, but he's even more gorgeous!* He was wearing a brown leather jacket over a cabled sweater, with the collar of a denim shirt poking out, and a pair of jeans that appeared to have been starched and ironed. "Take a seat, I just need another minute."

He looked around the apartment, or what he could see, which was the front room and kitchenette. It kind of struck him as being between his own spartan quarters and a room at the Vecchio's. A short couch, which matched the chair he was sitting in, faced a wall unit holding TV, VCR, and sound system. Mostly, it was filled with books. Otherwise, there was just a leather bound trunk in place of a coffee table and a small unit of drawers with a lamp on it.

"Ready to go?" Tracy was wearing dark charcoal slacks, an embroidered shirt and a black unstructured jacket. Grabbing a long black coat from the cloak closet, they set out. They chatted amiably, about all the sorts of things they'd always talked about.

They stopped at a swinging sign, with the picture of well-fed fellow with a mug in hand and the name "The Merry Publican." Taking the steps leading down, Tracy grabbed the door, and directed him in. There was a terrace of tables along the grilled windows to the street, a partition and a lower rim of tables along the side. At the back, was a massive wooden bar and a door to one side that obviously lead to the kitchen, and further front an archway leading off to another room. Benton was guided to an empty seat, and Tracy sat opposite.

"Do you like it?"

"It's very, comfortable." Fraser looked around some more, taking in the other tables of the section. Some tables had two guys, others two women, and a few a woman and a guy. When he looked back at Tracy he noticed he was being contemplated. He cracked a small smile.

"I'm glad." Tracy lay a hand over Benton's. Just then one of the waitstaff came over to tell them the specials and take their orders. They just sort of sat there, looking at each other, not having much to say. Oblivious to the arrival of their drinks, or the glances darting over from some of the other patrons. Everything from, 'isn't that cute', to 'I'd like to have what he's having', through 'for that, I'd be a man.'

Eventually, they got around to talking, like it was any other meal they were sharing. A small folk band started playing at the very back tucked nearly behind the bar. "Would you like to dance?"

Benton dabbed his lips with his napkin and stood, his hand out to Tracy. "Who should lead?"

"Your choice."

Tracy was offered an elbow, and led to the small floor. *Oh, G-d. I bet I'm the envy of the room.* Benton felt just a mite self-conscious as he held one hand in his, and felt another on his shoulder. And then, before he'd noticed the dance had started, it was over. They danced another, and then Tracy piped in. "My turn to lead." Somehow, that wasn't so awkward. He was able to take a good look at his partner. The plane of the jaw, the way the bridge of the nose ran all the way to the forehead. *His eyes are violet.* Then the dance was over and he noticed a waiting elbow. "We haven't finished our meal."

When they finished up, Tracy flagged over a waiter, and asked for the desert menu, ordering coffee for the both of them. And then they were done. Except for calling the bill. "I'm paying. You paid all those other times." Tracy had to accept that. When they were outside, Tracy desperately wanted to hail a cab for Benton. "It's okay. I can walk by myself. Honestly." *Watch over him.*

This night, Fraser noticed everything of his walk home. The play of the street lights on the glass. The sound of blowing paper. The scent of hickory on the air. Completely aware. Up the stairs, and into his apartment. "Evening, Dief." He poured out some food into the waiting bowl.

"Evening son. You're looking in better spirits."

"Yes, I am." He looked at his father's ghost. The older man seemed to be waiting, for something. "What is it?"

It was something he'd never asked about. *We'll, you missed a lot of your son's life. You've got a whole death to try to make up for it.* "How was your date?"

The next couple weeks went by in a blur. Mostly they were like the ones before the night in the elevator. The old places, just two guys enjoying each other's company. The occasional hand on the shoulder. What any two friends might do. Fraser didn't see much of Ray during this time, outside of work and the occasional lunch. And of course dinner at the Vecchio's.

"Hello stranger, those students tying you down?"

"Ray!" Tracy waded through to the pool table. "Not too bad. Mostly meetings and thinking about next term. Midterms aren't for awhile yet."

"So what are you doing for Halloween?"

"Hadn't really given much mind to it."

"You can't blow off Halloween."

"We don't celebrate it back home, though Labour day is about the same time of year."

"All the more reason. Me, I got stuck with detail for a charity ball this year."

"Would the Constable be there?"

"Ask him yourself. Bennie, look who showed up? I swear, I hardly see either of you, and then you're both here."

"Ray here was telling me about the charity ball. Telling me I can't miss Halloween. Are you going to be there too?"

"Yes, I volunteered to help out."

"Still going to wear what you wear every Halloween?"

"Well, I don't see the reason to hire a costume."

"Geesh, that's the whole point. So, are you in, professor?"

"How much are the tickets?" Hearing the figure, Tracy finished. "Done. But you're helping me get him to not wear his uniform."

"Finally. Someone willing to help me."

They were getting desperate. "Tracy, it's no good. We've been to every shop in town. They expect people like him to have their dates lined up plenty in advance and their costumes reserved."

"Ray, I've gotten my costume, and there is no way I'm going to be the only one wearing one."

"Ray will be, as will the other guests."

"Shut up, Fraser." Ray and Tracy nodded at each other, for great minds thinking alike.

"I've got an idea, but I don't know if he'll like it."

"Tough. Where are we headed?"

Finally, Halloween arrived. Tracy was putting the finishing touches to the costume. Looking at the effect of the Gentleman Captain, Tracy fluffed at the cuffs and the jabot. Making sure the skirts of the frockcoat were settled right, Tracy flourished the cape in the process of putting it on and strode to go to the ball. *How delicious is he going to look?*

Benton had balked at the idea. 'When would he ever use this again?' When Tracy pointed out he could always use it as an extra blanket, Ray outvoted him. By pushing him to the cutting counter and then through the line. The funny thing, as much as they'd insisted he not wear his uniform, he had quite a bit of it on. The boots. The belt. The white shirt he wore under the serge. As he pulled the last part of his costume out of the footlocker, he amused himself with that thought.

Ray was hard-pressed to say which of his friends was the most impressive looking. From the way the women in the room were staring, he knew it was a matter of some debate. The Mountie, who'd never had trouble getting women's attention, was rating in on over-drive. *Yeah, the ladies are really going for that wild man look. If only they knew.* Tracy on the other hand, was primped and precise. *Takes a real confident man to wear a costume like that.* Probably was why he managed to get it; not too many guys up to the challenge. They were missing out, given how the women were responding. "So, decided to take time out from posing for bodice-buster covers?"

Tracy would have retorted back, except for the affect Benton's blush was having. *I owe you one detective.* "Actually, just looking for some new models." Now, Fraser was stammering, and turning nearly purple, so much blood was in his cheeks. At that moment, Elaine sashayed over in what appeared to be a flamenco dancer costume.

"Nice legs, Fraser. Think that will be the new uniform?"

"Certainly would keep him off guard duty. The Inspector would want to keep better tabs on him."

*Okay, we've had our fun now. Better get him off the hook.* "That is a very unusual sporran. Nothing I recognize."

"Actually, it's polar bear."

"I thought that was illegal." Ray was a little surprised.

"They were very insistent. I couldn't very well refuse the forepaw."

"Which of you gentlemen is going to remember your manners, and ask me to dance?" ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

*He's toying with you. Making sure you see him. That he can see you.* Something was building inside him. The fact he couldn't do anything wasn't helping. It took most of the evening, but then, it hit. Hard. "We are going out."

"We are out."

"Somewhere else. To a club. Where you can dance with me."

There was something in the voice Tracy couldn't place, had never expected to hear from this man. "Okay. Should you tell Ray you're leaving? You could do that while I get my cloak." Benton was standing a little too close, and while the hand on the upper arm looked like a friendly gesture of good spirits, it was too tight. Much too tight. Tracy was nearly pushed, nearly dragged to the coat check. *What is wrong with him?* Tracy was uncertain of whether it was safe to leave with him like this. Sure it wasn't safe to not go. *For me, or for him?*

The moments were a blur. Gathering Tracy, hailing a cab, pushing him in ahead. Barking out the name of where they wanted to go. Getting out of the cab and seeing the line, he didn't think twice about going to the front, straight to the person working the door. All the while moving Tracy along. His mind, veiled as it was, ran the image of Ray bribing various people of this job description.

That hadn't even been necessary. Benton didn't notice the figure moving out of his way. Was not perplexed by the way of his unhindered access. Tracy, in some perverse corner of the mind, observed that given their costumes, anything less was unthinkable. *How the hell does he even know about this sort of place?*

There they were, in the midst of a fetishists' Halloween, the industrial beat so loud, it was not just a physical force, but gnashed through into the brain. One tall, broad, pale, with curling short dark hair, dressed in a great kilt. Another slightly tanned, with a barely restrained red mane, wearing tight breeches and coat styled to convey mannered ruthlessness. With a confidence that silenced any critique, Benton found under the noise a waltz. A harsh, relentless waltz.

Tracy was not sure how long they had been dancing or when the music had changed. It was still very loud, and jarring. But more and more it sounded like the DJ was playing to them. Following the crowd wanting to enter that space, the charged space the devastatingly handsome strangers were forming. Looking into the blue eyes, Tracy waited for the moment and seized the lead, left hand tightly intertwined, right much lower than proper. Violet eyes staring into blue.

Fraser was locked on those violet eyes. Eyes that tried to make him break first; he wasn't getting away with that. Being directed backwards, he leaned in, gaze locked, for a hungry kiss.

Tracy's eyes slammed shut, unable to kiss and stare at the same time. Still leading, Tracy sent them into a round of repeated turns and pivots, hoping not to plow into the other dancers. Not that was likely, for the other eyes were on them.

And then the DJ was playing them, controlling them with the music, their speed, their switches, their rhythmic interplay all possibilities of the console slides. Testing their steps against his music selection, he created a palette of movement, bending music into styles fitted to them. Building a seething, textured pattern of form.

Silence. Weight. With great difficult Tracy realized they were still standing, largely from propping each other up. Then, the crowd parting to make way, they were at a table, pressing tightly together in the bench seat. Breathing. Sitting.

What had gotten into him? Stroking the short curls, thoroughly soaked with sweat, Tracy tried to solve the puzzle. Sorting the snatches and fragments of Benton's past that had fluttered into conversation, interpreting his actions throughout the time they had shared. Expanding into the way they were sitting. Benton's right shoulder in the crook of an elbow, left arm pulling tightly across Tracy's back, the hand claiming a spot just above the knee, right arm claiming left across both torsos. His head hanging down and away, propped against right cheek. *Trying to curl around and within at once.* Bringing the hand out of his hair, Tracy rested it around Benton's chest. Feeling the flinch and then the subtle nudging into it, a shade of a suspicion coalesced. That was a discussion for another day.

Managing to get something for Fraser to eat was a cross-cultural nightmare, as New Zealand bar tucker and what Americans served as bar food were very different. Resorting to a broad Aussie imitation finally got the general idea across. In the end, the order consisted of potato skins, topped nachos and a general assortment of the like. Tracy knew Fraser needed to decide when this evening was over, and not because of things like hunger or lack of sleep. That he didn't break into a lecture about the non-nutritional nature of the food just underscored how run down he was. *Okay. Get his batteries recharged, let him reassert his control while assuring him he's not being abandoned, then see if he goes berserk again.*

Which he did. Again he tried to command the situation, to overpower his partner, his hands holding too tightly, his kisses too ferocious. The difference was in MacKinacmakan's tactics. This time instead of trying to overturn Fraser's actions, they were met with enough resistance to halve them, a symbolic equality established. When there was opportunity, Tracy would sneak tender kisses anywhere available; along the jaw, on the neck, an ear lobe, to the side of the mouth. Wherever they were unmistakenly sensual.

Fraser was tiring, the long hours of struggle taking their toll, physically and emotionally. Incapable of looking at Tracy any longer, he signaled a lead switch and relaxed his head onto the left shoulder. He sank into the guidance of going backwards.

In the end, Fraser never got around to deciding the evening was over; morning and the closing of the club came first. As Tracy guided them out, a large loving cup was thrust into the free hand, and something stuffed into a coat pocket. It was fortunate that the burly loveslave at the coat check automatically fixed the cloak round Tracy's shoulder and placed the tricorn on the mass of red hair. They weren't on the top of the to do list just then. ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

*Dark. It's dark out.* It took a several moments to realize it wasn't still dark, but that he'd slept all day. He looked at the alarm; a little past six. He noticed that he hadn't bothered to take off the costume, not even the boots. He had apparently thought to take the sporran off. Lighting a lamp, he could see it on the kitchen table, the straps hanging over the edge. How had he gotten home? A cab; he'd been bundled into a cab, told to give the driver the address. Couldn't remember paying; couldn't remember coming in. *Start from the top. Went to the charity ball to help out. Ray was wearing a marshal's costume, Elaine as a Spanish dancer and Tracy...* Big chunks of the night before started sliding into place, like the granite blocks in pyramid tunnels. It was more than enough to frighten him, little enough to frighten him still more. *Was there anything else?* He tried to calm down, dropping his head and humming. *Who hailed the taxi?*

Tracy was just about feeling human again. A shower had been the first order of business. Trying to get at the knots that had taken up residence nearly everywhere. Then, before cowardice would prevent it, taking an accounting of the marks. *I can't believe it.* Tracy knew there'd be bruises; that was obvious at the time. But that you'd literally be able to see each hand Benton had applied, the sets of five little bruises unmistakable, was unthinkable. But the proof was in the mirror; a back littered with them along the left side, a trail of them on the right shoulder and arm, some strays here and there. Even marks at the bottom of the left front thigh, though much lighter. *Those were his fear.* A chill ran up Tracy's spine. "I didn't even make sure he went all the way home." Nagging fears tried to wrest control; they were pushed aside. *First food. Then, and only then, do I try to think.*

Ray wondered what happened to his erstwhile friends; he'd looked for them when the party was winding down wondering if they needed lifts home, or wanted to grab something to eat. Frankly, it was rude for them to just disappear without saying goodbye at least. Which, if it was anybody than Fraser, wouldn't be giving him this knot in the stomach.

"Hello. What is it Ray? We went out to a bar. Put him in the taxi myself. No, I haven't seen him since. It was pretty late. He might have slept in. If you think you should, do so. Ray, don't do anything stupid. Exactly what it sounds like. Yeah, call me later. And Ray, I mean it. Don't take any chances. Goodbye." Tracy looked at the phone. "You just might need it. Don't go putting your name on the calendar." *Please let me be being pessimistic. I don't want to be responsible.*

The only sensible thing was to get dressed. *But something I can sleep in.* Grabbing a rugby and a loose pair of khakis and some underwear, MacKinacmakan prepared for the worst, by being ready should it come.

"Bennie, are you in there?" Ray knocked, and the door swung a little. *Damn it, are you ever going to get a lock?* Thinking about the prof's words, Ray pulled out his piece. *What did he not want to tell me?* Carefully opening the door, he covered the room. Sitting unaware of his presence, was Fraser sitting on his bed, elbows on knees, head in hands, his costume draped around his shoulders. Double checking the place, he put the gun away. He rapped lightly on the kitchen table, tipping the sporran back before it could fall. *What the hell's going on?* "Bennie, how are you?" Fraser looked up; Ray wasn't sure that made him feel any better, given the way his friend looked. It was, what? *Feral. Play it nice and slow.* He picked up one of the chairs, sitting it back towards the bed so he'd have somewhere to put his arms, and sat down. "What happened to you last night?" *Oh G-d, what did I say to make him get that look? Keep it light.* "Tracy says you went to a bar. Must have been some bar."

"You talked to Tracy?" Fraser was at an even mixture of dread and relief.

"Yeah, I was a little worried with you two just slipping off, so when you didn't turn up, I called him."

"Was I supposed to meet you?"

"No, just thought you might. Tell me what you'd gotten up to; to explain about some crisis you noticed that needed a prof for backup. You know, pregnant teen struggling with a schoolbag." *Why isn't he telling me that's silly?*

"Anything else?" What was he more afraid of, that Ray knew, or that Tracy didn't tell him?

"Just to be careful. Did he get you in some bar fight? Are there goons that want a piece of you? You have got to replace that lock." *Why isn't he reacting?* "Bennie, what's wrong?"

"I, I can't remember all of last night. I don't remember getting home."

"That all. You must have been drinking; Tracy said he put you in the cab. What was it, some New Zealand import he snuck on you?"

*He didn't say anything. Ray doesn't suspect anything. Why does that worry me?*

"You look like hell. Have you eaten today? Hit the showers, I'll call for take-out, what do you feel like?"

*Like crawling under a rock.* "Whatever, Ray."

Once his friend was safely down the hall, Ray punched in a number. "Tracy. That's where I am. Sent him to take a shower. He looks like hell. I've got to go, he says he doesn't remember very well." Ray didn't like cutting short the prof, but he needed to order the food while Fraser was still gone.

Fraser turned on the water, and stepped right in, not caring about the temperature of the shower. He lathered up hard trying to wash away, away... *What I did and what I might have done last night.*

"Son, don't you think that cold of a shower is a bad idea in November?"

*I really don't want face him.* *I can't face myself.*

"I'm not going away. Something is wrong with you. Did that 'honorable man' hurt you?" *I really don't want this talk. If he says yes, what...*

"Don't say that!" *Shouting at him, is only going to get the neighbors' attention.* "No."

*Thank G-d.* "Did things not work out?" *This talk, at least, I know something about.*

Fraser turned off the shower, roughly toweled down and wrapped it around his waist. Shoving the curtain aside, he faced his father. "I attacked him. Are you happy now, that I've told you I attacked him?" He was breathing hard, water running down his face from his hair.

*Attacked him. My son... Get control.* "Start at the beginning, wherever you can." When it was clear his son was going to stand, Fraser Sr. took the only seat in the room.

"We'd gone to the charity ball. Not together. Anyway, he was wearing an 18th century gentleman's costume. And..." *How do you tell your dead father this?* "And he was teasing me, looking at me and made sure I saw him dancing with the women."

"Was he trying to make you jealous? Was he succeeding?"

"I'm not sure. Yes."

"Continue."

"Well, I'd had enough and told him it was time to go, somewhere we could be together."

*I don't want to hear this.* "Alone?"

"No!" Fraser was really screaming now.

"Calm down. Want someone to come in here? Okay, so you went somewhere..." *I'm not filling that in. But he did say not alone.*

"A club. The only place I could think of."

"Not where you had your date."

"Somewhere my official duties had led."

*Please, can this be over soon?* "So, you're at the club. What happened then?"

"We danced."

"Danced." *I think I'm missing something. Even my son can't make this much fuss about something he did dancing.*

"I wasn't myself. I was leading, and..."

*And what?* "Does he normally lead?"

"We take turns; we did the first date anyway."

"If you don't mind, which date was this, the one you're now telling me about?"

"I'm not sure. I mean we fence, and go to shows..."

"Dates. Ones that are obviously dates to other people around." *Is this genetic, this streak of his?*

"The second."

*That explains alot. I'm going to have to ask him point blank.* "You said you attacked him. Was that later?"

"During. I, well, I manhandled him."

*Interesting turn of phrase. I'll presume the dictionary definition.* "The exact details, as if it was a statement you were writing up for a case."

It was too much for him; he thought he knew what word would be in a case report, and it was too overwhelming. "I can't remember. I can remember snatches but I'm not sure if there..." He was starting to slump, and the ghost got up, hoping his son would take the hint.

"What is the next thing you do recall?"

"Waking up a while ago. I'd been bundled into a taxi, and according to Ray, my date did that."

"Ray knows?" It was more a statement, the question being what was known.

"No. I mean, Ray knows him, but not anything else. He had called him, wondering where we'd gone. Wasn't told much, just to be careful."

*What do these facts construct? At least I have a basis to ask questions.* "Did he say anything else to the detective? What to be careful about?"

"No. I don't think so."

"You said you attacked him, while dancing, in public. Since you won't, or can't, tell me what you did, I'm going to have to ask. Please try to remain calm. Are you up to that?" Fraser Sr. was trying to calm his son with a combination of cool procedure and fatherly concern. His son nodded weakly as he sat.

"Did you strike him?"

"Not that I recall."

"Did you punch him?"

"Not that I recall."

"Can you tell me what you do recall doing?"

"I held him much too hard. Kissed him... without concern. I paid no attention to his desires."

"Did anyone step in? To stop you, or assist him?"

"No. But that may not be relevant."

*What is that supposed to mean? It will wait.* "Son, I want you to think carefully and detached. If you, as a Constable, saw a man do what you did, to a lady, would you have intervened?"

"Yes. I would hope anyone would do so."

"According to your date, he put you in a cab to send you home. Did he have to hurt you, to manage that?"

"I do not believe so. I think I'd have something to show for it if he had. When I got up, I did remember being put in the cab, but not by whom."

"I take it the two of you are of a size; nearly even match in hand-to-hand?"

"I'm a Mountie. Otherwise, yes."

*If it were two buddies, I'd wonder what the fuss is about. Hell, even if they decked each other in a bar brawl. But just because... well, it is different.* "If the Detective was of a weight, and he picked a fight with you, would you forgive him?"

"Yes. But that isn't what happened last night; what I did was something else."

"Good. I needed to be sure you understood that. You got lucky last night; happened that he could defend himself. Your problem, is making sure this never happens again. Ever."

Before Fraser could respond, Ray was knocking on the door. "You didn't pass out in there did you? Food should be here any moment." Benton tried to pull himself together, and exited the bathroom. "You still don't look too good." ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

There was a knocking on the door, insistent. Tracy bolted up, cursing for even thinking it was Benton. Going to the bedroom door, called out. "Who is it?" *What time is it?*

"Ray."

The door opened quickly. Ray saw that the professor looked like he'd gotten dressed and then gone to sleep. Looked a little better than Fraser; managed a shave anyway. *Still, why'd he be dressed if all he wanted was to catch up on his sleep?* Stepping inside, Ray paced, a little cramped in the tiny sitting room. When the door was closed, he started in. "What the hell happened last night? What was I supposed to be on guard for? When I got there, he looked a mess; no offense but you don't look your best either."

"Ray, can I take your coat? If you must pace, would you take off your shoes. Anything I can grab from the kitchen?" *How do I handle this? I'm not going to lie for him; but telling Ray isn't going to do him any good either.* When Ray handed over the coat and toed out of his shoes, Tracy decided they'd be needing coffee.

"What did he say? I wasn't in any condition last night to make sure he got home. How bad did he look?"

"Mostly he just asked me questions. He seemed a little fuzzy on what had happened; couldn't remember it was you who got him into the taxi. He seemed worried about that, not remembering stuff. Wondered what you'd told me." Somewhere, his inner cop was balking, but his concern overpowered it. "He didn't look good. Frankly, he looked like he'd woke up from a nightmare. Don't think he had eaten since getting in, hadn't put away his things. That's pretty serious for him."

"But he went straight home?"

"I don't think he could have done anything else; I think he pulled himself up the stairs and fell into bed. Are you going to tell me what happened last night? It would help if I knew what I was supposed to be protecting him from." ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

Tracy was exhausted, emotionally more than anything else. Dealing with Ray, without blurting out everything, was draining work. The worst was still to come. Figuring out what had happened and why. *I've got to go over it while it is fresh. Pacing around, Tracy noticed the trophy cup. That would sure have been really good, had the detective seen that. Picking it up, the professor looked at it carefully; hadn't had a chance before. It was the overall award, for the whole evening. Remembering something else being handed over, Tracy went through the costume finding a small bundle of cards. *Looks like we made an impression.* Several were vouchers for the club; seems they were so busy, their 'fans' weren't able to reward them that evening. Several others were numbers, virtually introduction cards. Then there was a list of all the names used in the voting. The rest seemed to be the prize, gift certificates to several, distinctive, businesses. Bundling the mass, Tracy dumped them into a drawer.

Finally Ray was gone, leaving Fraser to his thoughts. He'd always believed there were things he was incapable of doing. Certainty was now gone, leaving him aware of a darkness inside. That could cause, might cause him to do the unspeakable. *What do I do now?*

*What do I do now?* It was the only question, Tracy knew. Could dump him; possibly should dump him. *And live the rest of his life, waiting for him to do harm?* Not to Tracy. It was a fear that something would come unchained inside; something once unfettered that would be capable of anything. "How do I do this?"

"How do I do this?" Fraser rolled around several plans; nearly all sent him north. Maybe he could get transferred to the Yukon.

Somewhere. But the thought of being alone, carrying this... Out in the wilderness... He the only law... "I have to face this. Or I'm already lost."

They ran into each other in the park. "We have to talk." They said in near unison. They decided to walk the trail into the woods.

"You didn't tell him." Fraser stated, wondering why.

"No. You didn't either."

"I should have."

"Why? So your best friend would have to choose? Could you do that to Ray?"

"Anything is possible." He said glumly.

"Would it be right?"

"No. That didn't stop me."

"What started you? What were your intentions? Did you have any?"

"I don't know. I, I don't know what I might have done."

"Neither did I. Do you know why we can be here, having this conversation?"

"Because I got lucky; you were able to stop me."

Tracy turned Benton about, holding him by the upper arms. "No, Constable Benton Fraser, we got lucky, because you are a good man. If you weren't, we wouldn't be here. Had you intended me harm, at least one of us would be in hospital, gaol or morgue. I couldn't have prevented it. You took me to a public place. You feel remorse. For that, we can have this conversation. We have to have this conversation, because you are a good man." Fraser looked into violet eyes with blue disbelief. "Only you can choose to stay one."

"But I might have..."

"You didn't. In the end, we are measured by our actions. Now, what action was your intent? Something you wanted to do at the ball; that might have been done at the ball. What did you want?" Fraser moved in slowly, cupping Tracy's right shoulder blade with his left hand, right arm around waist. Brushing Tracy's lips, Fraser continued the kiss deeper, and deeper, each stage waiting its inevitable turn discretely behind the one before, as if it were a formal procession. When it was over, well past the logic of needing air, he pulled away slightly, Tracy still in his arms.

Thought took awhile to return to Tracy, longer still words for that thought. "Every dance? I mean, a whole evening, of," Tracy realizing the futility of mere words, slid right arm up Benton's back to cradle the nape of his neck, and cupping his head in the left hand, thumb behind the ear, firmly kissed Fraser, circling his tongue in a riposte-counter riposte fashion. When breath was needed, Tracy pulled back just enough so Benton could read the question in violet.

"In so far as can be done on a crowded dance floor." Benton felt one of Tracy's fingers placed on his lips and saw a warning glance of not to move. After a few moments, Tracy started to disengage. A question in cerulean formed.

"Joggers. Much as I'd like to continue this "might-have-been", we'd better continue our walk. Up that hill, and onto a different path."

After the two scrambled up the hill, through the leafless trees, and down to another footpath, Tracy started to talk, and fell silent.

"What is it?" Fraser asked worriedly.

"Can you help me over to that boulder? These shoes weren't made for that." Fraser helped the professor over to the rocks, setting his rather friendly burden down. Tracy started plucking burrs and stickers off the wing-tip laces. Finally being able to untie them, Tracy got the offending material shaken out of the shoes. "Nothing like walking on prickles in dress shoes. So, how did that intent turn into the actual events?"

Fraser slumped onto another boulder, forehead lolling on the heels of his hands. It became apparent he wasn't going to answer.

"Can you at least look at me?" Tracy could see the tears pooling up in his eyes, before he looked away again. "Try telling me what brought on the intent itself. I'd like to know what gets you so, inspired."

"You, sir. My desire for you." The words were spit out, laced with fire and shame. Fraser sat up straight and bent his head down, and hummed for a little while. "Just what am I to you? I want to know. You kissed me, gave me one date and then everything was back to normal; except me. Why me?"

"Should I have not kissed you? You didn't have to kiss me back. I enjoy your company and I am very attracted to you. You said you liked what we had been doing, called them dates." Tracy mind resounded with a very deep, resonant bell. "You couldn't tell me; I thought it was something you didn't want, but you couldn't tell me what you did want. Will you tell me, what you do want?"

"I don't know anymore. I used to know who I was, and what I was, but you've changed me." Fraser caught the look in Tracy's eyes. "I don't mean in a direct sense; I do keep up with the news. I mean, I had to think about... and in the end, I couldn't say I was upset that you had. In the words of my father, you have to finish what you start. I didn't make it very clear, when I said call a date a date?"

"No, but I presumed I understood; I should know better." Tracy got up. "Want to walk? These rocks aren't the best seats, not in this weather. So, what would you change?" They meandered along the trail.

"Just more date in our outings, or more of our outings being dates." Fraser noticed the purpled 'And?' "Dancing and..."

"PDA? Public displays of affection; kept hearing the term, so I made it a bonus question."

"Yes." Fraser filed the acronym, glad to have a clear way of referring, to the distinction between... "The possibility of PDA is what makes a date not something else."

Ray had known something was up, something his best friend and his new friend weren't telling him. Why had worried him; what couldn't they tell him? And then, whatever it was, was gone. *Must have been some point of honor.* Yeah, that would be like them. Going to a bar, and getting into some strange argument. *Maybe they ran into some Australians.* He wondered how this had happened, him a Chicago boy, learning so much about the Commonwealth rivalries. Yeah, he could see it now, Tracy giving some Aussies lip, Fraser trying to smooth things over. Fight ensues, bar turned into a shambles. Only the faintest corner of his mind noted, neither had shiners.

"So, why a sudden interest in having some real clothes?" Ray was holding up various options.

"Well, I've been going out more often, and it seems reasonable to take a few more items to the cleaners instead of going so often."

"Getting embarrassed into it, huh?" Ray put the rejected items back.

"That's just silly, Ray. Actually, I suspect Prof. MacKinacmakan has been taking advantage of my uniform."

"Oh, really? What'd he do, pass you off as visiting U.N. staff? Or do you have your own island nation?"

*I'm going to have ask him about that.* "Something like that."

"Bennie, could you be more specific what you are looking for?" Ray pointed around the store. "Because this would be a lot faster then."

"Part of the reason I asked for your help, is I really don't know."

"Finally. What sort of a crowd are you moving with? Because the important part is to look like you belong, yet still stand out."

"Ray, I just need a couple jackets, maybe three, and some new shirts."

"Something people won't notice you are repeating?"

"Exactly. And Ray, something that, well, is me."

Fraser had to admit, he was pretty happy. Since he didn't have to wear his uniform when they went to plays or concerts, Tracy and he could hold hands, once the house lights were down. Somehow, he needed that bit of reassurance. Some nights he would still wear his uniform; either because the event was more formal, or Tracy needed the clout. After Ray had mentioned the possibilities, he'd called him on it. He'd as much as admitted to it. *Why don't I mind?* They largely stopped going to the pub, unless it was a workday lunch, switching to the Merry Publican or some other establishment.

He'd been a little shocked when Tracy told him it was time he learned how to play pool. Ray had considered that important, so Fraser had obliged when he found himself in Chicago. *Have to give Tracy credit, he gives great lessons.* Fraser felt slightly guilty for being a slow study on purpose; being guided in his shots was worth it though. That's how he'd learned that past the archway in the Merry Publican was a sort of a youth hang out, school out to six on school nights and all day Saturday and school holidays, until five. Several of the regular dykes took turns supervising the room. After awhile, the pair of them were allowed to sub for a few hours, on and off. It was strange how his new life, gave him more opportunities to be a positive role model. ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

"You know, if we aren't careful, we'll be trendsetters." Tracy smiled at Fraser.

"What do you mean?" He asked of his dance partner.

"People are starting to copy your lead modification. I've seen it in two forms; your way, left hands to blade, right to waist, and the reverse."

"And?" Fraser dipped Tracy.

"Just that it will be interesting if the two forms are adopted by different segments, or if it'll be a matter of personal preference." Tracy signaled lead change, and dipped Fraser.

"Actually, I see a third." Fraser signaled where Tracy could turn.

"Oh, shoulder instead of waist. Thank you for pointing that out. Theoretically, that would make four." Tracy was stopped from continuing on by a long kiss.

"Have you decided about whether to Thanksgiving at the Vecchio's?"

"I told Ray yes. For both of us; hope you don't mind."

The band ended their set, and the broad shouldered couple returned to their table. About five minutes passed, when a number of police officers came in through both the front and kitchen doors, announcing it was a raid. An anxious violet flash was met with a calm blue that slowly directed to the bar. *Suspected underage drinking, or drug deal. Regular cop stuff.* They calmly waited their turn to be cuffed and their rights read and loaded into transport.

Lt. Welsh had stayed late reading the latest bunch of case reports. *Either Ray's spelling is getting worse, I need glasses, or Red is again making Chicago a strange place indeed.* Deciding he'd need coffee to get through the rest of them, he headed to the canteen. To find Red and the Professor cuffed together, among a large group of other, dressy casual attired people. "Evening." He heard the unisoned 'Evening, sir./Evening, Lt.' as he walked to the desk sergeant to find out where the two had been picked up. When he got it, he didn't recognized the establishment name, but didn't like the warrant one bit.

Elaine was getting real worried; Ray had gotten her to agree and run some plates, after her shift was over, way too easily. *I have got to get a life.* She brightened up a bit when she saw the department's two most handsome additions. It was a little reward from the Universe for putting up with Ray. It took her awhile to notice it wasn't a social call or work that had them in the station; then she realized she was staring at the cuffs. She was snapped to by the chorused 'Evening, Elaine.'

"We've got to stop meeting like this." She camped at the Mountie, realizing he didn't get the film reference.

"Elaine, would you have a camera; I'd like a souvenir to send to my mates back home."

She had to laugh at that; not only wasn't he embarrassed, he seemed cheerful. "Sure, be back in a minute." Grabbing an evidence camera and slipping in a short roll of film, she returned to some of the best camera subjects she could think of. "Okay you two, over here so I've got a clean shot." First a few head and shoulders of Tracy and Benton holding up the cuffs, a couple full lengths, and then a few extras, without the cuffs visible. *When will I get a chance like this again?*

"Thank you, Elaine."

"Thank you kindly."

*No, thank you, very kindly.* "Will that be matte or glossy, and which portrait package? I'll get these developed for you personally."

Benton looked at Tracy a little confused. He just got back a twinkling eye back.

Somehow, he wasn't very concerned.

"Did you hear about Fraser getting arrested last night? Guess where, I dare you?" Detective Huey was enjoying needling Vecchio. When he didn't play along, he sprung it. "A gay bar and grill. Does he get extra points if he collects a whole set?"

*Fraser got arrested.* Elaine shot daggers at Huey, and he went back to his desk. *He didn't mention it this morning.*

"Ray, here's that information you wanted. Just so you know, it was a pretty normal professional crowd. Just fewer women wearing dresses."

"Vecchio, in here." Welsh bellowed from his office door.

Once he was in the office, door closed. "Yes?"

"I wanted to go over some of these reports." Welsh rattled off a few of the stranger items.

"That's exactly what happened. No, I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't there; I was and I don't. I find that's easier."

Lt. Welsh sighed, and handed over a file. "What's your opinion?"

Ray read over the pages quickly. "It's dirty. Who asked for the warrant?"

"Haven't been able to find out; what else do you notice?"

"Which, that the tip came from a large contributor to the authorizing judge, that no evidence of wrong doing was found, or that it could bring a heavy civil suit against the department?"

"I don't like it when my precinct is used as someone's personal staff. I want you to check on motive. Maybe we'll turn up something that will stick."

"Understood."

"Ray, you ready for lunch? I had to be over this way anyway, so I thought I'd check."

"Sure. We'll swing by and pick up Bennie." Ray was pretty low key.

"Interesting legal system you have here; didn't plan on seeing it first hand."

*What did he say?* "What, finally got caught hustling pool?" Ray attempted his brusque patter.

"Would you believe having dinner? Neither will my home bar keep." ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

"Hello, Ray. Is that a new case? Hello, Tracy." Fraser greeted as he got into the Riv.

"Sort of. Not officially, just double-checking some stuff for Welsh." Fraser gestured to the folder. "Sure, might as well."

Fraser read for awhile. "Oh, dear."

"Is that all you can say? You get arrested and you don't even tell me, and all you can say is 'oh, dear'?" Ray was half watching the traffic and partly facing Benton.

"Sorry? No, it was just we weren't told why we were being asked some, rather strange questions. Did they find anything?"

"No. What gives?"

"Well, it didn't seem important. It's not the sort of thing that one says right off. 'Morning, Ray. Last night I got arrested.' Doesn't sound right, does it?"

"Okay, I guess not. I'm just ticked from hearing it from Huey; I mean, the leatherbar finally is old news and now this."

"Leatherbar?" Tracy interjected.

"Some teenager Bennie was sitting gave him the slip and next thing I know, we've got a drug bust breathing down our necks. The only good thing was having enough cuffs for the bad guys who had tailed along for the ride."

"So what are you checking up on, or shouldn't I know?"

Ray thought about that; it was one thing discussing cases with Bennie, but he was a cop, even if a Canadian cop. *Well, I need some information, so I'll feed him some.* "Trying to find out why the raid was set up; I can't go into the details."

"I understand. Can I know what maleficence was suspected?"

"Yeah, you were picked up, might as well know why. Besides the usual drug and alcohol stuff, they thought there were boys on offer. It's written pretty vague, whole laundry list of offenses."

"I see why the raid; even the possibility would have to be checked out. You said they didn't find any evidence of it, though?"

"Nada. That's the problem; somebody should have gone undercover to check it out first."

"Hey, I'd wondered what happened to you two. What can I get you?"

"Pint for me, and the usual for him."

"Actually, I'll have a beer." They'd agreed, while Vecchio was washing his hands, they needed to talk after work. So they were in their old pub, at the regular time.

"Where to start? Your call."

"With the case; I think that's clearer cut. What are the options?"

"Let's focus on those Ray won't come up with. Top of the list, someone's parents aren't happy with their son's choice of company."

Fraser looked at Tracy blankly, and realizing his beer had arrived, took a small drink.

"Well, for starters, no undercover detail. And, given the timing, no one was going to be there. It's no secret that some parents aren't real happy when they discover their teen son is gay. I don't like thinking someone's parents would stoop so low, but it is a possibility."

"Any others?"

"Can't think of anything else Ray wouldn't come up with. Lt. Welsh wouldn't have handed it to him otherwise. There you have your basic harassment, a land deal, or someone out making voter points. I've been surveying American TV."

"I thought that would take longer. Next order of business?" ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

In the end, they'd decided they weren't going to be budged so easily. The only concession was not being the sole chaperons; a decision that had already been made by the owner and the dykes. Otherwise, they weren't going to abandon ship because a shot across the bow. If it was Tracy's option, somebody would need to see integrity in action.

Regardless, Benton's thoughts were troubled. Tracy and he hadn't been dating that long, and already the issue of what other people might think was pressing in on them. Hard. It was one thing to be discrete; that was really just a form of politeness. It was another wondering if their other spaces weren't really their's. Fraser was torn about not telling Ray, particularly since now, it meant he couldn't share Tracy's theory.

"Son, how are you?"

"Hi, dad. Okay. Worried."

"Is it about your, friend? The new one, I mean."

"No, not exactly. Are you unhappy about this?"

"Why do you ask? Well, I won't lie to you, I'm not thrilled, which if he was a woman, I would be. On the whole, I am glad that he seems to be good for you." *Dammit, I want grandchildren. But he doesn't need guilt from a dead man.*

"I just wanted to know. I haven't told Ray. And now he's on a case that I might be able to help him on, except..."

"You're not coming forward with information about a crime..."

"Of course not. Though maybe it is the same thing. It isn't an official case; he's trying to find the motive for a illegal bust, and all we have is a theory."

"That is a tough one. If your theory is right, will they try it again?"

"Doubtful. I don't think Lt. Welsh would authorize another attempt without hard evidence. Also, I don't think they'd risk exposing their son; it would be sort of self-defeating."

"Why haven't you told Ray?"

"At first, it was so sudden. We're all working together. I'm not sure how he is going to take it."

"What does your date say?"

"He says it is my decision, that I'm a better judge of how it'll affect Ray."

"So he's willing to deal with the consequences if you do tell Ray? Part of it is figuring out if you want to make him do that?"

"Yes. And whether knowing, is just going make Ray uncomfortable."

"Can you think of a time when you'd have to tell him? Not because of a case, but just because he is your friend?"

"Yes. I'm just not sure if I should tell him before that."

"Spit it out boy, when would you have to tell him?" *He is so frustrating at times.*

Fraser screwed his courage up. "When he ceases being my date and is my lover. Or it's moving there." *

I think I just got some extra information; don't react to it.* "When it's sure you're a courting?"

"I think that would be only right." Benton noticed his father's shade had left again. ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

"Hello Tracy, there you are Benton, come in the both of you. What's this, you shouldn't have." Ma Vecchio gestured to the large fruit basket Tracy was carrying.

"You are so kind to invite me; besides, I wanted to share a little of my home with yours."

"Raymando, caro, come so I can take their coats. Your mother must be so proud of you." With that, she planted a big kiss on Tracy's cheek. "See what he brought."

*Great, I've got polite Cannucks and Kiwis bearing gifts.* "New Zealand produce?

"It'll be summer soon."

Ma Vecchio distributed her guests around the table, placing Tracy close at hand, which suited Frannie just fine. She'd been a little perturbed Ray hadn't brought the professor over as much; after all, she reasoned, he was much further from home than Benton. If he was going to be that way, she'd have to move faster.

Tracy was having a pretty good time; okay, it would be better if the Constable was neighbored... *That is a hand on my thigh. Frannie. Let's try moving it back. Done. Now she has my hand.* Tracy flashed a purple 'help' across the table.

"Could you pass me the green beans, Francesca?"

*Rats. Why now?* Frannie let go, and passed the dish down. *Fine, I have feet.* She toed off a shoe and toyed with the professor's cuff.

*Why me?* Tracy tried moving the leg, but there was only so far it could go without leaving the other one open for attack. *Let's try Ray.*

Ray caught the signal, the international Frannie alert. *If Tracy's using it, he must be in trouble.* "Frannie, how about getting some more mashed potatoes, from the kitchen." *Had her shoe off? Goes from bad to worse.*

Frannie set the potatoes down right by Ray, and returned to her seat.

"Tracy, this will be your first winter Christmas?" Ma could tell it was time to jump start the conversation, as a lull had developed.

"Yes, ma'am. Our winter starts in June."

"Maybe we'll have a white Christmas this year." Frannie piped in.

"That would be nice, a perfect winter Christmas, for our visitor." Ma smiled at Tracy."

"I take that isn't a sure thing?"

"In Chicago, nothing is a sure thing. The weather, it goes double."

"Caro, please. I bet Benton would also like a white Christmas, yes?"

"I think we might need dogsleds if the Constable got his wish." Tracy winked.

"What makes it Christmas in New Zealand?" Maria piped in, the children calm for a second.

"The pohutakawas bloom large red flowers, and we have pavlova."

"Pahthooeys?" Ray couldn't resist.

"Pohutakawas. You'd think after two years with Fraser you'd be used to these long names; I think you do it on purpose."

"I'd have to agree, especially with the fact Tracy's have the syllables very apparent."

"All written with Italian vowels; we are on to you, detective."

After way too much food, the meal was over. Benton took Tracy aside. "What was she doing?"

Not seeing anyone, Tracy started a demo. "When Ray sent her to the kitchen, she was playing footsie."

"You brave man." Double-checking, he dashed a kiss to the forehead.

"My hero." Tracy snaked an arm around his waist.

Somehow, they forgot to keep checking for Vecchios as they got a little over-involved in their game. It was Tracy who noticed first.

Ray was shocked speechless. When Fraser tried to explain, he found his voice and it was angry. "Out, get out!" The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the stairs, just muttering to himself. When his mom asked what was wrong, he stormed upstairs, and slammed his door shut.

They sat in the only open coffee shop they could find, nursing their mugs as if it would take the chill off.

"I'm so very sorry."

"I was there, too."

"He may calm down, once he gets off the initial shock."

"Maybe." Of all the ways for Ray to find out, this had to be one of the worst, Fraser thought. Worse still would have been someone else catching them.

Lt. Welsh wasn't going to take much more of this. Spotting a flash of red, he went to his door and peeked out. *Not Big Red, one of the other Mounties.* It had been going on for two weeks, best he could tell. He had thought the Constable was just overly busy with the holiday influx of Canadian tourists and dignitaries. Except, the wolf wasn't around mooching, either. Ray seemed to spend every lunch at his desk.

"Caro, we talk now. Why did Benton and Tracy leave in a rush?"

Ray tried to ignore his mother. Which just made her want to talk more. Eventually, he gave in to get it over with. "Why couldn't he have just told me? Couldn't he have just told me the truth?"

"What Raymando? What are you talking about?"

"I caught them. You shouldn't find out that way. Especially not..."

"Hush, caro. What was it? You can tell me."

"I can't. I mean, Fraser always tells the truth. It's like the rise and setting of the sun. He didn't tell me; what does that tell you?"

"That he didn't want to upset you. Couldn't figure out what to say. And it seems he was right to be worried."

Ray just looked at his mom, blinking. Trying to figure out if she knew.

"Not until you yelled at him; you should be ashamed, him your best friend. Same for Tracy, the dear man. Is it a wonder; I found out Frannie- but I suspect you know that. Did you really need the mashed potatoes?"

"You'd think I'd know. I am a detective."

"And he's a Mountie, and the other a Professor. Does it upset you?"

"It very well does. I thought Bennie was my best friend, and Tracy was okay too."

"He's not your friend because he's happy?" Ray stared at her. "Haven't you noticed that? Dear, you have to remember how Fraser came down here. Yes, in comparison, he started looking happy. You must now know the difference?"

"Ma,"

"What is it going to be? Either you apologize, or admit you were never really his friend. What's more, since Maria and the kids are visiting with Tony's parents this year, I expect to see some hearty appetites at my table. I'm serious. Benton doesn't have any living family besides us, and Tracy is a world away from his." ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

"Get in the car! Please. We need to talk." Ray was at the Consulate, waiting through the bells, and then a little more. Benton came over and got in. Ray merged back into traffic. "Can you tell me one thing, would you have ever told me?"

"Yes, Ray. I would have; I've been concerned about that for awhile. I didn't mean for you to find out this way."

"And just when would you have told me?"

"When we'd been dating longer."

"I'm not talking about Tracy yet; when would you have told me?"

Benton just looked at Ray. "I'll say it then; when would you have told me that you're gay? Damn it, haven't we been through enough to tell me?"

"I couldn't have told you much earlier; we've really only been dating a little over a month. It depends how you count."

It was Ray's turn to stare, which as the driver, was a little dangerous. "You aren't telling me..."

"Didn't know. Might have never known. Really."

*This is too weird.* "How did you find out?"

"That's a little personal. Maybe, we'll tell you someday."

*I'll buy that.* "Feel okay telling me when?"

"About three months ago."

"I'm sorry Bennie; if I'd know that, well, maybe I'd have understood better you not telling me. I'd like to believe I would have. Ma wanted me to tell you, the two of you are invited to Christmas. The kids will be out of the house and everyone else knows. You won't have to worry about fending off Frannie anymore." Ray winced. "That probably wasn't real nice?"

"You have to apologize to him."

"Have him come by the station. Pick you up in the morning?"

"Thank you kindly."

*There's one of them, finally. Is Ray going... Yes.* Lt. Welsh smiled that once more, things were getting back to the usual abnormal.

"Okay, let's talk." Ray got up from the desk and led out to the storage closet. *Sheesh* Opening the door for Tracy, he followed him in. "First, I want to apologize for the way I acted. I didn't know, and I didn't know he didn't know until just recently. Second, I want to point out, that if you hurt him, I'll track you down. Third, want to try another holiday with the Vecchio's?"

It, strangely, took Tracy a few beats to comprehend all that. "You okay with this?"

"No, not really. I gave up on okay a couple years ago; eventually I'll get used to this too. What about the rest of it?"

"It was no way for you to find out; I'm sorry about that. I can only promise to do my best." Tracy caught on the last one.

"Ma's okay, I doubt Frannie really matters, and besides me, you two round us out. We can always put you in the snow, if you need to cool down."

"Done. Now, can we get out of the closet and go to lunch?" ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

They decided that after all that, it was time for a celebration. Given the holiday season however, they figured 'The Merry Publican' was about all the stress they could take. It so happened the band playing was a more traditional Celtic group, so they got into a little competition of which of them was the better leader. Which got some of the stand-offish crowd enthused enough to try their best to copy the basic steps.

"I think we better sit down for awhile, before our shoes ignite."

"That would be a fire hazard." Fraser slid from his serious mask into a boyish smile, and they walked back to their table.

"How you feel, now that Ray knows about us?"

"Much better. He's really the only family I have, alive anyway. What about you?"

"I'm glad he's dealing with it. And that there are people you know who know about us."

Fraser gave an interested, inquiring face.

"Why do you think I wanted pictures; well, one reason. My best friend was begging for details."

"He wasn't shocked?"

"Don't ever let her hear that. No, she's been wishing for years that I'd find a good man." Tracy kissed his hand.

"Excuse me, are you Ben and Trey?" They looked at the polished, silver coiffed woman. "I'm Jayce's grandma. I wanted to thank you, for showing him that power has nothing on character. He's learned alot about commitment and being a real man from you two." With a quick clasp of the hand for each of them, she turned and walked out.

Fraser and Tracy shaked hands stalwartly, and then pulled into a kiss with their left hands.

"Shall we dance?" Benton did his best formal Mountie, which Tracy mirrored, taking lead when they got back to the floor.

"It'll be nice not pretending our way through Christmas and still spending it with others. I'd like to skip the faculty party and spend the time with you." When he started to speak, he was silenced with a kiss. "They'd recognize you; otherwise, I wouldn't give a fig. I'm not interested in sharing you with the media. Public accolades of your daring-do excepted." With that, Tracy dipped and kissed him.

*Okay, one more of these exciting gatherings.* Tracy went through the usual motions of a faculty cocktail party; small talk, raiding the appetizers.

"Miss me?" The whisper was warm on Tracy's ear. *Fraser...* It took all of Tracy's concentration to keep composed, and turn toward him naturally. It was Fraser all right, but in teal and a long wig. *Where did he find pumps in his size?*

"Professor MacKinacmakan, you've been keeping a secret! Pleased to meet you." After shaking Tracy by the arms in greeting, he took Fraser's hand to kiss. Then he went off to greet other people. Ms. Fraser looked over in confusion.

"I haven't seen him before. Punch?" Tracy offered an arm.

The party passed good naturedly, and they walked back to Tracy's door, where Fraser left his date, with a goodnight kiss.

*That was just a little too odd. Picky, I know, but odd. It was Fraser all right, but somehow, different.*

Fraser on the other hand was just a little giddy as he walked home--casually knocking out a would-be mugger with his purse. He'd learned that the secret was stockings and not pantyhose. ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

"It's disgusting!" Frannie hissed at her brother.

"I won't have you say that, just don't look." He was startled when she hit him in the chest.

"I don't mean that. How happy and cute and repulsive they are, that's what's disgusting."

*How true.* Two people very much in love; hell, Bennie was nearly playful, and Tracy, he was treating it like it was shinty--as much contact as possible, with necessary roughness. "Point taken. You holding up okay?"

"Yeah. A little bummed. But it makes sense now. Clearly he needed to be swept off his feet."

"Prince Charming gets lifted onto the back of a charger?" Both of them laughed about that. Then they went back into the parlor.

Fraser and Tracy were sitting on the floor, leaning against the loveseat. Since the kids weren't underfoot, they had decided to wait to open presents until after dinner. Among the paper-wrapped gifts, there were four intricately tied in printed cloth. Ray took post as the gift hander, distributing them around. First there were several rounds of simultaneous unwrapping as gifts from various Vecchio's were handed out, and then they slowed to one gift being opened at a time.

"Okay, Bennie, show us what has you blushing. We'll just presume the most scandalous if you don't."

Sheepishly, first turning to Tracy for reassurance, Benton held up a set of bright red longjohns.

"Those aren't... They are! Silk longjohns, I think I've seen everything." Ray was a little amazed. He couldn't help himself, so he felt a sleeve. It was a very heavy weight of knit silk.

Ma Vecchio was the next to open a gift, this one from Benton. It was a carved picture frame, with a large central oval, and smaller circles surrounding it. She cooed in Italian and gave him big kiss on the forehead.

Ray decided it was time to bite the bullet and open his from Tracy. *Feels like a book.* It took him awhile to get the fabric off; he suspected the professor had done that on purpose. "The Complete Survival Guide. Thanks, Tracy. I think." As he flipped through the book, he started to brighten. *This might come in handy.*

Fraser nodded to Ray to hand Frannie her gift. It was a little awkward for Ray to get out from under the tree. The card read, 'To Francesca, from the both of us.' Once she had the cloth off, she found it was an old fashioned mirrored music box, with a small mechanical scene. She was moved to happy tears.

Next Tracy was handed a present, from Benton. Inside, was a brass bound cask, with a captain's desk set inside. He was promptly rewarded with a kiss.

Ray passed his mom Tracy's gift to her. Inside was an intricately carved, shell-inlaid box. Ma Vecchio showed it all around and was very profuse in praise to Tracy.

The last present was Benton's to Ray.

Soon enough it was nearly the end of January. Ray was waiting to give yet another round of explanations of odd case reports; somehow, they'd managed to hit a streak of them. He felt guilty about not getting Bennie down from the abandoned water tower before New Year's was rung in. It had always been bad enough when cases swamped holidays; at least he was able to call Tracy and let him know.

"Professor, welcome back to the station." Lt. Welsh passed by on the way to his office. "Detective, I'll want you in my office in an hour."

"Ray, could you spare me a moment?"

"Sure. What can I do you for?" Ray caught the glance back to his 'other' office. "Fine." *What now?*

Once they were installed, Ray started up. "Is this animal, vegetable or mineral?"

"Um, do you know anything about him, wearing dresses?"

"Why do you ask? Is that something you want him to do; he would, I think he still has the one from working undercover."

"And that's it?" When Vecchio gave his 'best that I know' look, Tracy continued. "I guess that answers that question." Ray wasn't going to let it go that easily. "Just double checking." *Must have been a bonus present.* More seriously. "Remember how you said you'd hunt me down? I just wanted to warn you, that time is probably nigh."

"Are you two having a spat? I know it can be rough when cases get..." Ray noticed Tracy was very subdued. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"There's something Fraser doesn't know, yet, and I know I have to tell him, but I'm not sure..."

"If you tell me you're married, I'll shoot you right here."

"Nothing like that."

Ray decided to try to lift Tracy's spirits. "Is it a heinous crime?"

"No. But I am very afraid he won't be able to forgive me. It's something I should have told him earlier, but it never seemed to be the right time."

"Look, Tracy. Fraser loves you; I'm sure you know that. As for him forgiving you... Damn it, I can't believe what you have to tell him is anywhere near as bad as the time I shot him. He didn't even have to think before he forgave me."

"You shot him?"

"The point is, Bennie can forgive just about anything. It's part of his nature; hell, sometimes he forgives people who don't deserve it. If you think you should tell him something, tell him. Don't worry over it; it won't get any easier, and you'll have fretted for no reason."

"Okay. Would you bring him, to this place, then?" Tracy wrote some instructions on a card. "Tell him that it's a Scottish event; he could wear his great kilt if he wants. Ray, I'd like you to stay on hand, in case he takes it harder than you think."

"Right. I'll get him there. Don't worry so much, he'll understand."

Tracy hoped Ray was right; but wasn't very confident that Fraser would understand. It was a matter of a very complex truth, which meant there was virtually a lie, him not being told this one, detail. Putting a long coat on, Tracy left to have one of the hardest talks you could possibly have.

Ray thought this was a strange place to make a vital revelation. *Maybe this is a set up, something to get me here.* Pretty much everyone was either in a kilt or a skirt, except for Ray. It seemed to be a combination party and performance. It took Ray a moment to grasp he wasn't seeing a woman the spitting image of Tracy, but Tracy dolled up in a velvet corset and a plaid skirt, with a shoulder drape of the same material. *Everybody's a cross-dresser!* Tracy curtsied to the two of them and took Bennie onto the floor, though away from the group dances. Ray tried to figure out how it was going, but there was just too much plaid swirling around; half the time he'd find he was wasn't even watching the right pair. *Imagine being able to lose him while he is wearing that.* Next thing he knew, Fraser was leaving like a man struck blind. Before he could go after him, Benton had gotten caught by a group dance short a man. *They'll be able to hold him for awhile.* He had some questions for Tracy.

Tracy was actually crying by the time Vecchio got there, dabbing with a ladies' hanky. Ray decided to try to find a more quiet spot to ask about it, and drew the professor aside. Once Tracy started to sit, Ray noticed. It was certainly a shock, but the curiosity of the matter took some of the edge off. "Um, Tracy," He flicked his eyes, back between the top of the corset and the teary eyes. "Are those, you know?"

"Yes, Ray. They are."

*Oh dear.* "A little body work?" Vecchio was desperate for some banter right now; and that's how it sounded. Desperate.

"I think we had better dance; less chance of being overhead. Did he storm off completely?"

Ray reassured as they got on the floor. "No, a group of dancers nabbed him; should be stuck there for awhile." A silent moment was spent as Tracy pulled him through leading, and Ray picked up the bare basics. "What is, well, the story?" *Clearly, they haven't been moving very fast.* Tracy didn't start right in. "You know, your two friends there?" Since they were the topic of discussion, Ray decided it was okay to stare a little. At first he thought it was just very good work. *A little too good...* "Tracy, it's true, isn't it? Oh, g-d!" It was lucky they were dancing, or Ray would have been windmilling about.

"Yes. But it isn't that simple." Ray started getting real big eyes. "Not that complicated."

"I'd think that would be pretty simple. You made him go through all that? You're right, I do have to hunt you down." Still, Ray was confused enough about what was going on, not to carry it out just yet.

"Ray, I've lived as a man nearly as long as you have. Just wasn't a boy when I was little." Ray was really freaking his face. "Ascriptive gender, Ray. I told you how I was initiated into the the ritual knowledge of the Maori, because of a vision? Well, when they found out I was a girl, they assigned me into the male category."

"Wouldn't that just affect the Maori?" *I am learning way too many weird things these days.*

"Usually, yes. But it got transferred onto some school records, and it just snowballed from there. And it wasn't like I socialized much except with the Maori children; there were very few pakeha out there. You understand this must be kept an absolute secret, right?"

Ray did understand. Every professional contact Tracy had, knew MacKinacmakan as a man. Lived socially as a man; that would go real well with the boys at the bar. "On Fraser's honor. How many people know?"

"My brothers, my best friend, and you two. Besides my parents of course."

*Good G-d! Sweet Mother.* "In all that time, have you been able..."

"As a mystery woman, in the circuit. Keep on eye on him." ##-------##-------##-------##--------##-------##-------##-------##--------##--------##

Ray tried to keep his friend occupied, as he churned through this strange revelation. Ray himself wasn't sure how he felt about the situation. He was angry with how this was affecting his best friend. Still, he had to allow some sympathy for Tracy. Hurting Benton wasn't planned; just a natural outcome of a bizarre situation. Ray thought about how alone Fraser had been before their unlikely friendship; he couldn't help feeling the same way about Tracy. In that, they were so very much alike, for such very different reasons.

Fraser knew Ray was guarding him, making sure he didn't do anything rash, outside of the usual, crime-solving variety. While he felt slightly patronized by it, mostly it was comforting. With the turmoil inside him, he needed a thick calm between himself and the world. The logical part of him had forgiven Tracy for not telling him. That didn't take very long. That Tracy hadn't tried seducing him as a woman, while associating with him as a man, was in the professor's favor. *Duplicity would have been unforgivable.* And it was not an actual lie, even by omission; more than twenty years had its own weight of truth. No, Tracy was every inch Tracy throughout it all, regardless of what or what not he knew. The real problem, was he?

Constable Benton Fraser had fallen for a man; or had he? Could he have subconsciously known? That made the night of the ball even worse; except that Tracy being a man didn't excuse in the slightest what happened. *Who am I?* He didn't know the answer; he'd always been sure in the past. Not that this particular department was a strong suit. He had thought he was in love once before, but it was something else. There had been a certain something with Inspector Thatcher, that fizzled in its course. Did he even know what love was? If he didn't, he couldn't, in honesty, portray himself as being in love.

Ray wasn't sure how he felt about Tracy. *Still is the same person, but not the same person.* She had done a real number on the Mountie. Hell, Ray was spinning and he hadn't been dating the guy. *Guy?* How could he still think of Tracy that way? *I hate the British.* However, as the exhibit continued to be a concern, Ray took up being the go-between with regards to any changes.

*I can't go on like this.* He kept going round and round in circles. What this situation said about him. Whether this change mattered. Where this could possibly lead. He was lost, and needed to be guided out. *Guided.* He wished either he could go north, or get Eric to come south; but both had other responsibilities. *I am going to have to do this, myself.*

Ray had decided to drop by West Rancine and see how Fraser was coping. When he opened the door, he saw the sweat lodge. *Wait. I don't see any excess gear. That means...* Part of him wanted to make sure Bennie was alright, that he wasn't parboiling himself in some bizarre suicide rite. The rest of him suspected interrupting wouldn't be a good idea.

The visions were very confusing. Scenes were jumbled together; Fortitude Pass, the train headed for nuclear destruction, the series of vindictive acts Victoria directed at Ray, Dief and himself, the Inspector's various chores, and others. Images from his childhood faded in and out. Ray would cross at strange moments. Of Tracy and himself, he saw the kiss in the elevator, his kiss of Tracy. 'They'll recognize you.' Saw Tracy drag him from the floor, get food into him and go through another round of contestation, before bundling him off. *I didn't remember that.* 'We can go slow; no one has to know who you are.' 'You are a good man, only you can chose to stay that way.' The concern of protecting his uniform. Then, pieces flashed, Victoria, followed by Tracy. Thatcher, followed, by Tracy. Then, there was just him in his dress reds, in a field of unmarked snow.

Ray was fidgeting at his desk, sort of paying attention to the details Tracy half heartedly was going over. *He should have reached a decision.* Fraser had been stand-offish since the evening Ray saw the sweat lodge; he had seen it wasn't still up. Since then, he'd been asking Tracy to come by during Fraser's break. Hoping Bennie would come by and say his piece. But still he hadn't.

Elaine knew something was up; there were these, hiccups, between Benton, Tracy and Ray. "Hello. Yes. Yes. Goodbye." She hung up the phone and got up. *I wonder why.*

Lt. Welsh was trying to figure it out. Red had disappeared again; though after a particularly intensive spate of assists, on the heels of another impressive set of cases. If it wasn't for the professor coming down every day, he'd think the Inspector had found something for her officer to do. *There's Red now, just as Tracy is about to leave.*

Benton had finally come to a decision. He had thought about the visions, their meaning and what action to take. Now was the moment. Instead of his usual greetings, he entered quietly, nodding to Elaine, noticing the camera behind her phone. Tracy was just getting up, and turning to leave.

The Constable met the Professor with a tight embrace and deep kiss. Elaine was shooting the whole flashless roll of film, while a stunned group of detectives looked on. When it was over and they were straighten their jackets, all that could be heard was Ray shouting, "What? It's Valentine's. Don't you have some work to do?" Tracy exited, and Fraser took over the chair by Ray's desk.

fin

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