"It *was* a waterfall."Ray merely hunched his shoulders.
"Well, it *was*."
This earned Fraser a slow glare, before Ray retracted his neck, tortoise-like, and stared at a pebble between his feet.
Fraser wondered, not for the first time, at his tendency towards inanity in these awkward post-catastrophe moments with Ray. Inanity, and perhaps even petulance.
He allowed himself a silent sigh and turned his head to see Diefenbaker huffing and rolling vigorously in the long grass on the slope. He got to his feet and clapped his hands together in what he hoped was a rousing manner.
"Well."
Ray ignored him.
"We should walk downstream a few miles. Our packs may have washed up on shore. We could get the hatchet back, and the water bottles."
Ray continued to ignore him, and a bedraggled Dief came to lay down beside Ray, nudging at the pebble still resting between Ray's shoes.
Ray scratched Dief idly behind the ears, still not looking at Fraser. Dief moaned and lolled, exposing his belly.
"Ray. Diefenbaker. The sun will be setting in less than four hours. It would behoove us to make use of the available light and go search for our packs."
Dief whuffed a retort and pushed his nose under Ray's hand.
"I realize you're tired, but this is no time to rest. We --"
"Knock it off, Fraser."
"Ray, I wish you wouldn't encourage him."
"I said, knock it off! I just swallowed half the river, I almost drowned, I'm freezing, and I am *not* going trudging through rocks and bushes to get two packs full of wet clothes."
Acid formed in Fraser's stomach. Now? Ray was giving up *now*? After all they'd been through these past few days? Perhaps he just needed a different approach. Practicality hadn't worked -- perhaps an appeal to self-interest...
"Walking around would probably warm you up, Ray. In fact, a brisk jog downstream might just do the trick."
"It's not gonna work, Benny. And don't try any Inuit stories on me, either, because I'm not interested. I'm just gonna sit here and catch my breath. You can take a hike, Nature Boy."
Dief growled an affirmation, and Fraser felt the acid move into his throat. What was going on here? Mutiny, he thought absurdly. Well, there was no sense staying here for more abuse.
"Very well," he said with a focused clarity that, he trusted, betrayed no ill feelings. By the time he got back, Ray would be more sanguine and they could just overlook this little episode.
***
Half an hour later, Fraser hadn't found the packs or the least evidence of them. He was losing body heat from his wet, clinging clothes. Hunger and weariness were beginning to wear him down, and in his frustration he pulled some edible greenery from the riverbank and stuffed his pockets with it. It wouldn't do to return empty-handed.
The sun was just starting to move toward the ridge when he returned to their ill-chosen campsite. Ray was shoeless, and Fraser noticed several blisters. Ray had laid the makings of a fire.
"Told you wouldn't find anything," Ray muttered.
"On the contrary. I found a sheltered place to set camp, some saplings suitable for constructing a lean-to, and a bed of wild chervil."
"Chervil? What the hell is chervil?"
Fraser obliged by handing Ray a palmful of wilted herbs. He waited a moment, but Ray made no move to eat it.
"It's edible, I assure you."
"Yeah? Well, if it's so edible, you eat some first."
Fraser placed a few leaves in his mouth and chewed resolutely. It was pungent, vaguely reminiscent of parsley and anise.
It took rather more concentration that he'd have thought to keep his face impassive. The grubs had not been nearly as objectionable.
After a moment, Ray sniffed his own chervil and took a cautious bite.
He spit it out promptly.
"Eeyuchhhh! Fraser! It tastes like soapy cilantro!"
Fraser made sure his sigh was inaudible, and Ray spat again, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.
With a final irritated glance, Ray squatted down and reached for two fist sized rocks.
Ray now clicked the two rocks together and frowned at his pile of tinder.
"Ray, if you'd allow me..."
"Benny, I don't need your help, okay? I've got flint, I've got...another rock, and I can make a fire."
Fraser dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out the box of waterproof matches. "I know you can, Ray. I just thought it might be easier with these."
It took Ray four strikes, but eventually the match caught.
Soon, the fire was crackling and something loosened in Ray's face. He unzipped his jacket and watched as Fraser built up the fire with gathered sticks. Then Ray pulled his thick white socks over a pair of forked sticks and proceeded to toast them over the fire. Ray saw his look and sighed.
"It's a cop thing. From when I used to walk the beat. I can't stand wet socks."
Fraser nodded and removed his jacket. Ray's eyebrows raised when Fraser began tugging his waterlogged shirt over his head. By the time Fraser could see Ray again, the other man was frowning suspiciously.
Fraser removed his boots. Ray said nothing.
Fraser tried to slow his pounding heart and unzipped his jeans.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Ray was on his feet now, arms spread wide, as if asking the world why Fraser would do such a thing.
"It's a matter of survival, Ray. Hypothermia is nothing to be trifled with."
"It's *summer*, Fraser. I mean, it's Canada, but it's still summer. It's... I'm not cold," he added stubbornly. And then belied himself with a visible shudder. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at Fraser.
"Most hypothermia cases develop in air temperatures between 5 and 10 degrees -- 30 and 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Many victims fatally underestimate the danger of being wet at such temperatures. You're shivering, Ray, because cold water is removing body heat from the surface of your clothes. When clothes get wet, they lose ninety percent of their insulating value," Fraser recited soberly, all the while trying to push his clinging, sodden pants down his legs without looking like a buffoon.
It certainly wasn't working. Dief stared, ears perked, eyes alight with suppressed glee. He knew better than to openly display his mirth.
Ray turned his back to Fraser. He knew the man was sulking by the set of his shoulders.
"Ray, it really is quite serious. If we don't dry our clothes now, we'll be dangerously compromised come nightfall. At the very least," he continued reasonably, "we'll be chafed."
It was quite impossible to get out of his wet pants without also dislodging his white boxers. Thin enough to dry quickly, they would afford him some decorum, as well as protection from random tree limbs and the sandy forest floor. He pulled them back on.
Unfortunately, his boxers, when wet, were also quite transparent.
Ray hung his head, sighing. From behind, it was as if Ray had suddenly become headless, his long neck dipped so low.
"Fine. Let's just heap some humiliation on top of all that nearly dying we've been doing these past couple of days." And Ray started struggling out of his clothes. Fraser reminded himself not to stare. Several times. And when a glaring Ray finally turned around again, bare and rough with goose flesh, his nipples hard peaks, Fraser was able to meet the other man's eyes. Almost immediately.
"Strictly speaking, Ray, you could wear your briefs. If you think you'd be more comfortable. They'll dry quickly."
Ray rolled his eyes and then wrestled his wet underwear back on.
"There, you satisfied? This is officially the crappiest vacation I've ever had in my life." He rubbed his narrow arms with short, cramped motions.
Fraser looked away from the flashing eyes and the sleek torso, and retrieved Ray's crumpled jacket and shirt. He spread them out to dry on a some low-hanging branches. He then set up their boots in a tidy row beside the fire.
When he turned around Ray's lips had quirked in the beginnings of a smile.
"It really bends your twig to see anything not properly arranged, huh?"
"Well, Ray, imposing order, even in a small way, can make larger things seem less..." and he trailed off. Ray's eyes softened for a moment, before he turned his attention back to his socks. Dief eyed them with interest.
"They are not marshmallows, Dief."
Knowing that didn't seem to dissuade him.
Fraser sighed again. "You know, I would blame city life, but I must admit that he was always rather wayward and given to sloth."
Dief blinked at Fraser and shook himself vigorously before trotting off to investigate some inviting hillocks.
"So, how much daylight we got left you figure?"
"Oh, I'd say three hours or so."
"You were saying something about saplings?"
"Well, without a hatchet, even saplings will be...I think we should perhaps instead focus on some of the lower branches."
Ray pulled one of his socks off the fire and felt it experimentally. "Gimme another couple of minutes."
"As you wish, Ray."
Ray put the sock back on the fire and poked at the flames. Fraser felt almost hypnotized, watching him crouching nearly naked over the fire, like a prehistoric man. Although he would of course prefer to be constructing the lean-to and preparing their camp, the heat of the fire was...pleasant. The sun was high and warm on his bare skin, and it highlighted the nearby leaves and shimmered on the river. For the first time since their arrival, Fraser felt that he was home.
There was a lot to be said for quiet companionship in a setting like this, and he felt no need to break the silence. For long moments, Fraser simply enjoyed the quiet beauty all around him, glad to be alive, and with eyes to see it. He looked at Ray. Firelight turned his green eyes gold.
Ray rose abruptly, startling Fraser out of his reverie. He plucked his socks out of the fire and began putting them on, leaning against a rock while balancing on one foot. "Come on, we've got a lean-to to build."
"You're going to wear your socks, Ray?"
"Hey, don't bug me, Fraser. These rocks and twigs are no fun to step on."
Getting slowly to his feet, Fraser stifled a wince. His head hurt. As a matter of fact, his whole body hurt. Not surprising, really, considering the repeated blows to his head he'd taken in the past two days, to say nothing of the assorted abuse of the rest of him. Ah, well, some exercise would distract him, keep the blood circulating. That was the ticket.
Ray looked up from where he was tugging a sock over his long, rather elegant toes. His glance skirted Fraser's body nervously and returned to his face.
"You sure you're up to this? I mean...with the plane and the...the, ah. Thing. Your back."
"I'm fit as a fiddle, Ray. I'm sure some vigorous exercise will give me just the warm up I need."
"Fraser..." Ray got to his feet. His eyebrows tensed and he looked into Fraser's eyes, and then away, and then back again.
"Look. You've been through a lot. It's okay to say you're maybe not feelin' so hot. I mean, a few hours ago you were blind! And the not walking thing...you gotta still be feeling that."
Fraser felt unaccountably shamed by this statement, and he studied Ray's stockinged feet as he tried to form a reply.
"Well. I'm certainly not 100% yet, Ray. And I appreciate your concern. But you yourself have had a laundry list of recent traumas and...I admit that I would prefer a hot bath and a cot at the moment to a lean-to under the open sky. But if we work together, Ray, I'm sure we can afford ourselves some measure of comfort."
Ray threw up his hands.
"This is camping. No wonder my old man didn't want nothin' to do with it. C'mon. Let's go gnaw some branches off those trees and rig a hut."
"A fine idea."
***
Fraser was thankful for the work; it gave him something appropriate to focus on. He suspected that, in spite of his complaining, Ray too was relieved to be occupied. The exertion and the sunlight were warming (indeed, Fraser felt the beginnings of a sunburn on his nose and shoulders), and working with Ray was, fundamentally, working with Ray. It was familiar and comfortable, unlike the periodic, unnerving flashes of Ray's naked thighs. And the still-healing bullet wound in Ray's right shoulder.
Although some gnawing was required on Fraser's part, after a couple of hours they had enough branches to create a simple bower on the lee side of a large boulder, which they then leaned sheltering branches against to form a sort of logan, long enough for the two of them to lie head to head, with one shoulder to the rockface.
Ray emerged from the lean-to with an attitude of pride, brushing off his hands. Smudges of dirt streaked his chest and arms, and his socks were filthy. "Okay. So. Uh. Now what?"
"Well, we build up the fire. We check to see if our clothes are dry. And enjoy some chervil."
Ray made an eloquent face.
"What, no grubs tonight?"
"Actually Ray, I've still got my pocket knife... I can whittle us some sticks and we can enjoy fresh fish on the spit."
"Isn't it a little, uh... dark, for spear fishing?"
Fraser looked up; the sun had disappeared behind the ridge, and the campsite was painted blue and grey in the failing light. "Ah. Yes. In the morning, then."
Their shoes were still waterlogged, but the hours baking in the summer sun had rendered their clothing safe to wear. As they dressed, carefully not looking at one another, there was a rustling in the underbrush. Fraser could see Ray tense.
"What's that!?"
Dief bounded into the dwindling glow of the fire, a large rabbit dangling from his jaws.
"It would seem Dief's been hunting."
"You caught that? Dief, you're an actual hunting wolf! You didn't have to shoot it or nothin'! I thought you said he was naturally lazy."
"Well, he has his moments of efficiency. That's a fine kill, Dief. Enough for three."
Dief regarded him mildly.
"Of course you'll share. There was no reason to bring it back here to eat in front of us. Unless you were going to gloat."
Dief dropped the rabbit at Ray's feet and turned tail to Fraser, draping himself before the fire.
"Well, that's just petty, Diefenbaker."
Dief grunted and then turned to yip at Fraser in answer.
"It's not that I don't appreciate it. We're very grateful, Ray and I."
The wolf yawned.
Fraser gave up. Clearly Diefenbaker had made up his mind to sulk. "Ray, would you like to skin it, or shall I?"
"Nah. You go ahead."
Fraser set to, quickly dressing the rabbit. A pause.
"You sure there's enough for all three of us? I mean, it's a big rabbit, but it's still just a rabbit."
Fraser looked up. "Actually, this will be for the two of us." He found a tapered branch and set the meat up on a spit over the fire. "Dief, philanthropist that he is, has already eaten."
"Huh?"
"A true humanitarian would think of others before himself," Fraser said, clearly enunciating so that Dief's could attend to his unbraiding. "But Dief caught *two* rabbits today."
"Wow! Two rabbits! Don't listen to him, boy. I'm impressed."
"It's going to take at least another half an hour before any of the meat's ready to eat, Ray, unless you'd like it very rare. And I can't really recommend that." Fraser walked to the bank and washed his hands in the icy water. The sheer coldness of it would have told him he was home, even if he were still blind. He took a drink, and then sat down next to Ray, near the fire. Once his belly was full, he wouldn't wish for another thing in the world.
Ray nudged him companionably, and his shoulder was warm against Fraser's own. "Hey. I just wanted to say...it's too bad about the cabin. I mean, we came all the way up here to fix it up, and we didn't even get to. What a gyp."
Fraser was warmed by his concern. True, the cabin had been their objective, but he'd almost forgotten it in the events that followed their flight. Yet they were achieving what he suspected had been Ray's real intention: they were bonding. "It's the thought that counts, Ray."
Ray smiled in the growing darkness, and Fraser wanted to touch him. Instead, he turned his face to the sky. A crescent moon was rising, and the stars were coming out, more stars than Fraser had ever seen in Chicago's skies.
"You want I should dig up some roots or something to go with the rabbit?"
"Why don't we just make do with the meat?"
Ray regarded him with a lengthy, skeptical look. He blinked slowly, displaying fine long eyelashes. "Are you tellin' me I can just sit here and not do a damn thing?"
"I think you've more than earned a rest, Ray. I know I could do with one."
"No one's ever gonna believe that you said you needed a rest." Ray smiled a bit, just the barest hint of a smile, and said, "Well, I gotta go see a man about a horse. Then I'll --ow! Shit!"
Ray had started to rise, and abruptly fell back down to the ground, clutching his leg. His face was contorted in pain.
"Ray! Are you all right?"
"Ah, ah...leg cramp...ah, Jesus..."
"If you'll hold still a moment --" Fraser moved closer to Ray, close enough to smell the sweat of him, and faint traces of mud and moss, bathed in fresh riverwater.
Fraser placed both hands on Ray's thigh, just above the knee, and began moving firmly around it, looking for the source of the spasm.
"Ow! what are you --"
"Massage can cure a cramp, Ray. Just tell me where --"
v "Higher, more to the outside."
Fraser moved his hands to Ray's upper thigh, just short of the hip socket. The muscle jumped under his fingers. "Here?"
"Ahgh! Yes. Oh boy."
"It will help if you relax. Can you bend your leg a bit more?"
Ray bent his leg as requested. Fraser dug in more firmly now, concentrating on soothing the twitching muscle. Ray was panting with pain, but trying to relax.
"Breathe, Ray."
Ray breathed. The scent coming off him lost its edge of hysteria as the muscle submitted to Fraser's touch, gradually releasing itself.
Fraser went on kneading, perhaps longer than was strictly necessary. Nonsense, he told himself. Cramps can recur if not properly treated. He had a brief mental image of Ray's naked thigh and dismissed it quickly.
"That's...that's better, Benny." Ray's voice was rough. "Thanks."
It took a surprising act of will to remove his hands from Ray's body, and Fraser filed this information away for further examination at a later time. He watched Ray cautiously stand up, stretch, take a few steps.
"It feels a lot better," Ray called over his shoulder, as he walked away from the campsite.
Fraser felt a ridiculous surge of...something...and swallowed. Diefenbaker looked at him with mild disgust.
"What?"
Dief looked at him.
"It's basic first aid, Diefenbaker, nothing more than that. Something anyone would do for a friend in need."
A canine snort followed on the end of this remark, and Dief turned away.
"What do you mean, believe what I want to believe?"
"You shouldn't let him get to you," said Ray, re-entering the circle of firelight. "Hey, that rabbit smells done. Let's take a look." He picked up a stick and poked at the meat. Fraser's mouth filled as juice dripped onto the fire and sizzled. "Yep, I'd say it's ready. Where's that knife of yours?"
Fraser handed it to him and watched as Ray held the meat steady with the stick while slicing bits off as best he could with the knife. "Ow. Hot." He popped one in his mouth, and his eyes rolled.
"Mmmm...oh wow, I think that's the best thing I've ever tasted."
"Surely, Ray, it can't live up to your mother's cooking."
"Benny, if she were here she'd skin me alive, but the fact is that I've never tasted anything as good as this roasted rabbit. Not mom's polenta with marinara or her chicken cacciatore, nothing. Here." Ray handed Fraser a warm, greasy morsel. It was, frankly, divine.
Fraser chewed and swallowed gratefully. He allowed Ray to serve him bits of the meat, every bite contributing to his growing sense of comfort and, admittedly, sleepiness. He felt flushed with the heat of the fire, and his nostrils were full of the primal scents of roasted meat, trees, and unwashed humanity. A glow of goodwill suffused him. Fraser didn't even object when Ray tossed Diefenbaker a few of the larger bones.
Ray gave a languorous groan and stretched his long arms. Smacking his lips, he grinned at Fraser.
"You'll have to give ma that recipe, Benny." He yawned hugely. "Well, I'm ready to turn in." He pulled himself to his feet, offering Fraser a hand.
"You comin'?"
***
Fraser had always felt the oddest satisfaction in sleeping with Ray. That is, not sleeping *with* Ray, but in sharing his space. His breath.
He could remember trying to tell Ray about Victoria. It had been the first time Ray had ever fallen asleep in his presence. As disappointed as he'd been to realize that his small confession had been spoken to an unconscious audience, he'd been touched as well. Honored, in a small way, that Ray was able to trust him in such a vulnerable moment.
Of course, after that night, they had had a few occasions to sleep together. In the Riviera, mostly.
It had taken a bewildering amount of restraint to keep himself from touching Ray at those times. To touch the line of his eyebrow. Perhaps test the smooth surface of a closed eyelid with his tongue. They were...unusual impulses, to say the least. And to a point, he'd held them in check.
Now, he could hear Ray's steady breathing. He was not yet asleep, but he was getting there. Every restless shift he made increased Fraser's awareness of his proximity. The other man's shorn head lay so close to his own that Fraser could feel their mingled hair brush together.
It was...not unpleasant.
Fraser enjoyed it all he could while trying to remain perfectly still. Ray was obviously exhausted, and if he could manage to sleep well, he was liable to be in a better humour tomorrow. So Fraser lay still and breathed deeply of Ray and woodsmoke. Crickets and frogs sang from the riverbank. Though they had carefully cleared the floor of the lean-to of rocks and twigs, the uneven surface of the ground was cold and unforgiving beneath him.
Some time after Ray's breath had dropped into the regular rhythms of sleep, Ray began to thrash. The stubble on Ray's head lifted Fraser's hair, then rubbed tantalizingly across his temple as Ray's head rolled. It was surprisingly soft, yet also prickly, and Fraser broke out in gooseflesh at the sensation.
Ray mumbled something, then gave a grunt and rolled on his side. Now their foreheads were pressed together. The heat radiating from the quarter-sized spot where they were touching seemed white-hot, and a little slick. Ray was perspiring, and still mumbling. Perhaps he was having a nightmare. It might be a kindness to wake him.
"No! No don't it's no good. Wait. Wait. Hmmm..." And Ray trailed off again, rolling back onto his back.
Cautiously, Fraser exhaled.
Ray's head was moving back and forth, the little hairs tickling Fraser's head again.
"Wait. No. Fraser. Benny. Benny!"
"I'm right here, Ray. It's all right."
At the touch of his hand, Ray started, and sat up. He leaned forward and wiped his face with his hands.
"Oh, man."
"Ray?"
"Just a minute. Gimme a minute."
In the faint, faint light afforded by the stars and the glow of the banked fire, Fraser could see Ray shudder.
He settled a hand on Ray's shoulder, and Ray tensed, and then slumped slightly.
"I...hey. Sorry. I musta woke you up, huh?"
"It's no bother, Ray. Are you all right?"
"Me? Oh, yeah. I'm just dandy. I'm in the middle of fuckin' nowhere, planecrashed and half-drowned. I'm in the pink." He groaned softly. "It's just this outdoors stuff...it kinda gives me the willies. I'm a little on edge. As if you don't already know."
"It can be very disorienting, waking up in a strange place. It's not surprising that you feel overwhelmed."
"Yeah. Thanks. So. I guess I'll try to get back to sleep."
"Your dream seemed upsetting. Did you want to talk about it? Sometimes the simple act of telling the dream can break its grip on your imagination."
"It wasn't much of a dream. It didn't have a plot or anything. You know. Nothing like that."
"Sometimes the symbols of a dream can give some insight to your subconscious worries. In my reading I've found--"
"You're a walking PSA for libraries, you know that?"
"Well--"
"It's just. You know. It's Victoria. And she's...like the wicked witch of the west. Except she's not. I mean, no flying monkeys. She's just laughing and she's...it's like you're under a spell. That's it. She's laughing, you're following her. And then it's you, on the ground. Just staring up at me."
"I see."
"It doesn't sound scary. You had to be there, I guess." Ray sighed and covered his eyes with one long hand.
"Ray. I *was* there." And Ray flinched and nodded.
"I guess you were."
Fraser felt a stab of guilt.
"When does the 'feeling better' part come in?" And Ray's wry tone made Fraser flush.
"Ray, I owe you so much. More than you know." He found his hand was kneading Ray's shoulder. Lightly.
"Aw, that's bullshit. Even Steven. Remember?"
Ray's shoulder felt round and taut under his palm, but not tense. Just firm. Solid.
"If we're...even Steven, Ray, then why are you dreaming that I'll leave?"
Fraser could hear Ray's breath in the silence, smell the sourness of fear and exhaustion in it.
"I almost lost you, Benny. Never mind Victoria, yesterday I thought you were gonna die. And don't give me any crap about how it's no big deal not to be able to see or walk."
Impatience rose. "But --"
"No! You listen to me for once. Walking around blind like that and pretending everything's okay isn't *normal*, dammit. I already know you're brave. What do you think you gotta prove to me?"
Ray's voice rose in pitch, and his breathing was accelerated. His eyes, dun grey in the dimness, were wide, and he radiated a remarkable amount of heat.
"It's not about proving anything, Ray. It's just who I am." He gave Ray's shoulder a squeeze for emphasis, but his partner didn't appear to believe him.
"It's who you are to everybody else, sure. But..." Ray's voice trailed off, and he slumped a little. "Ahh, never mind."
"I do mind, Ray. Obviously, you feel something. Strongly. What is it?"
Ray turned toward him, his eyes bright and hard.
"I'm on to you, Mr. Perfect. You're not Superman. Nobody can be that guy every day of the week and twice on Sundays. I know you bleed. Maybe even cry. And sometimes I'd like to know I'm on the inside, okay? That I'll get to see you when you...need something." Ray stopped, then turned away. "I'm not explaining it right," he sighed.
"You feel that I am not revealing my true self to you." Saying it, Fraser felt his former stiffness come back to him. He straightened his spine and drew his hand away.
Ray closed a hand around his retreating wrist. "Don't be like that. I mean, why can't you let somebody help *you* once in a while? Don't you ever want that?"
"Ray..." And Fraser was truly baffled. "You have come to my aid more times than I can count. You help me..." he cast about for the right thing to say. "Every day!"
"Aw, that's hero crap. Sidekick stuff. Come on, you know what I mean. You're just playing dumb." And Ray released his wrist and stared off into the sheltered darkness of the lean-to. Fraser was rudderless and agog. This was a level of emotion Ray had only hinted at, and now there it was in the open. Naked. Raw.
"It's...you must know how difficult it is for me."
Ray narrowed his eyes.
"Difficult how?"
"With...Victoria--" and he bit his tongue. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, feeling suddenly cold. "There was a darkness in her. And it touched me. It nearly swallowed me whole, Ray. But it wasn't because it was a *new* darkness. It was so powerful, she held such power over me...because something in me *knew* her. Responded to that. Even... reveled.
"I can't adequately explain how lonely I was as a child. How resentful.
"Always, in me, every duty, every deed is a kind of attempt to atone for my...I suppose 'bitterness' would be the best term for it.
"Somehow, we knew each other, she and I. We shared a sense of kinship. I think we both felt we had been cheated in some way. Not that we ever discussed it. Really, I don't think we discussed anything other than her plans to ruin you."
For a long while, Fraser paused, trying to steady his galloping pulse, and he clasped and unclasped his hands several times.
"So, I don't let anyone see that...weakness in me. For fear that I'll lose hold of it, and become a dark soul. Like her."
"Benny," Ray said softly, taking Fraser's hands in his. "Everybody has darkness inside them, Benny. That's human. You gotta let yourself be a human being." Ray's hands were so warm, and there was an ache in his voice. His thumbs were stroking Fraser's palms now. The gentle pressure of Ray's thumbs was hypnotic, and Fraser suddenly felt very, very tired.
It would be so easy to just pull Ray close to him without saying another word, to lean his head on Ray's shoulder and fall asleep. Ray continued stroking his hands.
"Ray, why were you so angry with me today?"
Abruptly Ray's touch disappeared. "Aw, Benny --"
Was he going to deny it? Fraser was tired, but not too tired to be annoyed. "You were."
Ray swallowed -- Fraser could hear the click of it in the darkness, barely make out the working of his throat.
"I was just tired of the whole SuperMountie thing."
And now the annoyance was building, and Fraser tried to pack it into its usual tidy space. Not a good or useful way to feel. Go away. Come back later when I can deal with you in peace. "SuperMountie?"
"Ah, you know what I'm talking about. You always know best, you're always right, it *was* a waterfall, watch me, the blind and legless man, single-handedly lead us out of danger *and* always get my man..." Ray's voice had risen again.
"I don't know how to do anything other than my best, Ray. It's all that I know how to be. But...maybe you won't understand this, but I never knew what my best actually was, until I met you."
"You mean, you saw the contrast?" A sour note with a little laugh.
Fraser reached for Ray's hands, repeated the kneading motions Ray had been comforting him with before. "That's not what I mean." A little squeeze, followed by a firmer one, and Ray turned to look at him. "And you know it." A small smile. "This is called fishin' for compliments, you know that? I play all self-deprecating, and you shore me up by telling me what a hell of a guy I am."
"You're... you're a -- heck of a guy, Ray."
A chuckle. "That means a lot coming from you. Thanks."
"You're quite welcome," Fraser said warmly.
"Uh. I don't have any *hand* cramps. So what's the deal, Benny?"
Fraser stopped, but couldn't bring himself to let go. Regulating his breathing, he kept his attention on Ray's long-fingered hands, warm and full of a fluid vitality, even at rest.
"I'm....soothing you, Ray."
And Ray laughed, and tugged his hands out of Fraser's grasp, only to clasp the back of Fraser's neck.
"What am I gonna do with you, Benny?" Fraser could hear the smile in his voice, and he was so close that his breath was feathering against Fraser's lips. Fraser's pulse was bounding in his ears, and he licked his lips nervously.
Oh, Ray.
"Oh Ray, what?"
Oh dear. He'd spoken aloud. Now what? He could hardly murmur some vague endearment and tip his head to touch his mouth to Ray's...
And he licked his lips again.
"You do that a lot," Ray whispered.
"Do what a lot?"
Ray was quiet so long, and his hand was so still and warm on the back of Fraser's neck that he felt emboldened enough to prompt him. "Ray?"
"Lick your lips. When you're nervous."
"I'm not--" and he halted himself before his lie could meet the air.
"You are. You're shaking like a leaf." Ray's hand squeezed his neck a little. "Am I makin' you nervous?"
"I..." Fraser cleared his throat. "Nervous isn't the word I'd use."
Ray's free hand moved, and Fraser found his chin being tipped up by a gentle thumb and forefinger.
"Hey. Look at me."
And while looking at Ray was something he usually enjoyed, something he very much wanted to do, he found it surprisingly difficult to lift his eyes. But he managed it. He thanked God for the darkness, which he hoped masked his blush.
He could just pick out the shape of Ray's eyes. He searched there, trying to discern the greenness, the spark of intensity there that always made him feel...and then Ray went abruptly out of focus and there was a warm, soft pressure on his lips.
Soft, searching pressure gently against first his upper, then his lower lip, and it was only when he opened his mouth to receive Ray's tongue that he realized that they were kissing.
Ray tasted dark and wild and powerful, riverwater and smoke twining with the moist heat of his mouth. Fraser just stayed open, allowing his mouth to be explored, his heart hammering, not daring to move for fear Ray would stop, or it would all evaporate like the dream it surely was.
But when the kiss ended, as all kisses must, Ray was still there, so close Fraser could feel his heat all over him. And Ray's hand, which had never stopped stroking his jaw during the kiss, was now sliding softly down his neck. Long fingers caressed his throat, his shoulder, and Fraser stared in wonder at Ray's still-parted lips, not daring to meet his eyes.
Ray's gaze was so intense, Fraser's face burned with it, and he feared that Ray was already regretting what they'd done. "Ray --"
"Shut up, Benny," Ray said, and kissed him again.
Fraser wondered if Ray could taste his pulse in his tongue. He felt light and hot, and strangely fragile. He felt as if he never wanted to move again, and paradoxically, he felt a strong desire to bolt.
But Ray's arms wound around him, long hands pressing against his shoulder blades, urging Fraser's body ever closer to his own. Flight was obviously not an option.
So Fraser gave himself over to the entire experience of it, to Ray's heat, the press of Ray's kisses against his jaw, and his soft, soft murmuring. To Ray's taste, and the wild beat of his own heart. The nearly subliminal chant of his own name from Ray's lips wove around him like a spell. His body, which had been made of stone, was melting under Ray's hands as they ran over his chest, his back. Fraser thought of Pygmalion and Galatea, and wondered if this was what it felt like, to become alive.
And coming alive, he began to return Ray's caresses. Unfreezing, melting into flesh, his hands reached out to stroke the stubbled face, the hard shoulders -- touches he had so long wanted to give, that he knew exactly how each curve of Ray would feel in the instant before he stroked there. Ray's eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into Fraser's hand. Fraser had never seen him look so relaxed before.
Then Ray growled startlingly and lunged forward to sprawl on top of Fraser. His fingers roamed through Fraser's hair, strong and needful. The blunt scrabble across his scalp made Fraser moan as shivers raced down the back of his neck, and all he wanted in the world was to lie there and let Ray touch him.
Ray had other ideas. He slid one of his legs between Fraser's, and with a slow rocking movement brought their groins together through the layers of denim and twill. Fraser gasped.
Hard lines and smooth planes and a dense play of long muscle. Ray was *heavy* and Fraser found himself relishing that weight. It meant that this was real.
Ray writhed against him and he found his hands curling around Ray's shoulders. With a soft exhalation, he lifted Ray, and then resettled him more comfortably along his body.
The renewed contact of Ray's notable arousal with his own made him gasp anew.
Ray lifted his head, panting.
"Wow." He was plainly impressed.
"Wow?"
"You picked me up like I was nothing, Fraser. Do you have any idea how turned on I am right now?"
Fraser shifted his hips experimentally. Ray's solid weight crowded him pleasantly, and he nudged his own hardness against Ray's.
"I have... some idea, yes."
Ray grinned at him.
"God. Benny."
And Fraser lifted his head to suck at Ray's long neck.
Ray moaned appreciatively, and rocked smoothly against him. Their layers of clothing maddened Fraser, but as he hid his face against the fine grained stubble of Ray's throat, something clenched inside of him. He tightened his hold on the other man.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "So sorry--"
Ray stiffened in his grasp and then pulled away.
"No way. Don't you apologize. Not about this, not about *anything*."
Misery filled Fraser's chest, a hot, messy ache.
"Ray--" he began, and it sounded forlorn and ashamed, even to his own ears.
Ray held up a warning finger, only just visible in the glow of the dying fire. "I'm not sorry about this."
"I'm not-- that's not what I meant."
"I know what you mean." Ray's voice was sharp and angry and the space between them was suddenly an impassible rift. Fraser swallowed and forged ahead.
"Do you, Ray?"
"You're sorry you almost left with Victoria. I know that. I knew you were sorry the minute you woke up in the hospital, I know you'da been sorry every day of your life if you'd actually done it. " The warm tips of Ray's fingers stroked his cheek, and Fraser knew he would never deserve this even as he leaned into the touch. "The important thing is, you didn't do it."
"I understand you, Ray, and I've never stopped being grateful to you. But that's not what I mean."
This was so hard. But there would never be any peace between them if he didn't say it.
"I don't know how you can ever forgive me for what I almost did to you. To your career. God, Ray, your home, your family. I was ready to do it..." His throat tightened and his voice failed him.
Ray rolled off of him and seemed to collapse in on himself. "What am I supposed to say?" Ray asked quietly. "That I forgive you for running out on me? Forgive you for falling crazy in love with her? How about forgiving you for the jail time I almost did, or losing my job, or my *house*. Do I forgive you for almost putting my family out on the street? Because..." Ray paused, panting.
"Because I do, Fraser. I forgave you the minute I saw you fall."
Leaning forward, he reached out to touch Fraser's hair, his fingertips cool against Fraser's hot ear.
"You don't know what it was like, Fraser. I thought I'd killed you. I thought you'd never walk, or even breathe again. I'd have forgiven you anything, as long as you came back to the world. I made deals with God, Fraser, I pulled every salesman slick I could think of, just to get you back, and in one piece. I'd have made a deal with the Devil if that hadn't worked." Ray's words were soft and bitter, and Fraser could feel him trembling.
"Even after...?"
"Even then. And okay, yeah, I thought about it some, after I knew you were gonna be okay. I sat there by your bed while you were sleeping and I thought, do I really know this guy?"
Fraser sat as still as he could. Once again, he was afraid everything would evaporate like a dream. "You know me better than anyone, Ray."
"I think that's true, Benny. I really do. But I want to know you even better than that. That's why I got so pissed off today, about the SuperMountie stuff. Because I'm a sucker for you. I learned that the hard way. I'm gonna love you no matter what."
Fraser reached for Ray's hand and brought the fingers to his lips. His throat still hurt, but Ray -- who it seemed would always come to his rescue -- spared him the effort of trying to speak.
"Now, are you gonna let me make love to you already?"
A thrill ran through him and blood rushed to his groin. "Yes."
Fraser reached out and closed a hand in Ray's shirt, tugging him closer, breath close, mouth to mouth. He explored the shape of Ray's mouth with his tongue. The high, ridged palate, the tender inner lip...Ray's mouth was a vaulted cathedral to Fraser's senses.
Ray's hands skimmed up under his shirt. Fraser gasped and involuntarily drew in his abdomen, and Ray chuckled against his jaw. "Don't worry, I won't be exposing you to the cold night air. It's not as if I could see you anyway, and it's a damned shame, too."
Ray's fingertips brushed his nipple and he shivered down to his toes. Then a gentle squeeze there sent cold fire arcing down to his groin. He closed his eyes against the darkness.
Quickened breath in his ear, a whisper. "Benny, I can't really see your face. If you want me to know how you feel, you're gonna have to tell me."
Fraser licked his lips, and for a moment his own tongue felt unbearably sensual to him. "Do...do that again."
"This?" Another squeeze, and this time Fraser let himself gasp. Which earned him another squeeze, and Ray's lips tracing his jaw, down to his throat and then back up to his ear.
Ben's hips tried to thrust against something, anything, and met air. Wrapping his arms around Ray, he pulled both of them flat onto the hard ground. Ray was every bit as hot, heavy, and welcome against him as he remembered.
"God," Ray murmured, rubbing against him like a cat. And then Ray's warm breath was against his belly, making his toes curl, and then against his chest, and then heat engulfed his right nipple. Fraser didn't need to remind himself to make noise.
He looked down and nearly cursed the darkness; all he could see was the dark shape of Ray's head moving under his shirt. He longed to see Ray's lips pressed against him, the sucking highlighting his fine cheekbones, his eyes closed in concentrated thirst...Fraser ran his fingers lightly over Ray's face, trying to *see*.
Fraser thumbed the bridge of Ray's distinctive nose, smiling. Flexible and warm and quite undeniable...
Then Ray unexpectedly turned his head to stroke the flat of Fraser's sternum and he knuckled into Ray's eye rather less than gently.
"Ow," Ray complained. But he did not stop...licking.
"Please kiss me again, Ray."
Renewed hunger had come to him, and a sense of overriding urgency. As Ray's mouth fastened to his own, he wrestled with the waistband of Ray's trousers. He found himself puzzled by Ray's belt clasp, as ordinarily his own belt would buckle the *other* way...his almost laughable lack of experience in these matters made him nervous as well, and he really wasn't sure how to continue, only that he *must*.
"Ray," he muttered against his friend's mouth, and then again against Ray's sideburn, and then once more at his pliant ear. "I need to touch you," he admitted. And Ray gave a soft, breathless chuckle.
"Oh, God," Fraser managed, vexed. He let go of Ray's belt and began to tug at Ray's shirt instead. "Please." He was worried about the cold, but he found he couldn't care very much.
Ray must have heard his own frayed need, and covered Fraser's shaking hands with his own. "Easy, easy. it's gonna happen. We'll get there," Ray promised, and then his long hands left Fraser's and lifted his shirt over his head. While Ray opened his pants, Fraser unbuttoned his own shirt and yanked it off as quickly as he could, then lay back down.
"Jesus, it's chilly out here." At last Ray descended upon his naked chest, hair scratching him lightly, pulling their discarded shirts and jackets over them as a makeshift blanket.
Fraser moaned at the feel of him. Ray's body was long and lean and springy with flat muscle, his shoulderblades sharp under Ben's hands. He smelled the piquant funk of aroused male blending with the other scents. Fraser buried his nose in a flavorful armpit and hummed contentedly.
He was surprised when Ray didn't comment on this, but now that he had Ray where he wanted him, he wasn't about to bring the subject up himself. The rich smell was all over him now, suffusing his brain. Ray's hands were in his hair -- his pelt, Ray had once called it-- stroking and massaging. It made him hungry. He wanted to taste every bit of Ray he could reach.
Ray pulled out of the kiss to breathe harshly against Fraser's throat, and Fraser could feel Ray's body singing with heat, hear his stuttered exhalations. And then he felt Ray's hand wriggling between them, and clasping Fraser's hard, wet penis.
Fraser froze again, and then remembered to breathe. Ray's face remained hidden, but his hand, his hand was doing the most...wonderful things. A firm hand, a firm hand...his father had once said *something* about a firm hand; what, exactly, Fraser had no earthly idea.
Ray cupped the head of Fraser's leaking erection, fingertips gingerly exploring the roll of skin that slid down, and Fraser bit his lip. Ray's desire to hear Fraser's enjoyment probably did not extend to his being deafened by a shout.
"Tell me how it feels," Ray whispered hoarsely. But Fraser was rendered mute by sensation, struggling feebly under Ray's hand, and shuddering at the cautious sampling of his skin...there.
Glans. Shaft. Dear lord, scrotum --
"Oh, *Ray*--I--" But it turned into a moan, all he could manage.
Ray seemed unperturbed by the volume and pitch of Fraser's strangled utterances. Ray's hand was warm and sure on him now, moving more quickly. He was so hard he could feel the tight, stretched feeling of the skin as Ray kept stroking, stroking.
Both of them were breathing faster now, the air between them humid with it, and he groped for some way to hold Ray that wouldn't interfere with the perfection of those strokes. Perfection, driving him deeper and deeper into his need with every succulent twist and pull, until need was almost pain, until
"I'm going to -- "
But Ray was already sliding down, and then there was...wet, hot, slick pressure of lips and tongue sliding, sucking.
And a faint vibration, a contented humming moan from deep in Ray's throat.
Fraser dug his nails into his palms, trying to hold back, trying not to thrust as that smooth mouth plunged down on him again and again...too much...too much...yes!...Ray!
Ray took what was offered, swallowing around him and then lapping gently, until Fraser shuddered and held him still. Ray scooted up to lie against him before the sweat could cool on their bodies.
Clasping him, Fraser moved his hands down the long back. Ray burrowed into Fraser's neck and mumbled something.
"Hmmmm?"
"I said you taste terrific."
"Mmmm."
A pause. Ray licked his ear. "I'd love to see the look on your face right now."
A smile crept over Ben's face, and he regretted that Ray's wish was beyond his power to grant. But he suspected he could still manage to make Ray happy.
"You really...enjoyed the flavor?"
"Mmm-hmm." Ray sucked his ear lobe.
"I'm afraid we'll need a second opinion," and he turned his head to capture Ray's mouth with his own.
Ray surprised him by turning his head away and squirming a bit.
"Come *on*, Fraser! Yuck."
Puzzled, Fraser could only wait for Ray to elucidate.
"I mean, I just...I just sucked you off, right?"
"I believe that's the term, yes. But--"
"So, it's kind of gross, isn't it? I mean, it's your own...stuff!"
The number of things that disgusted Ray never failed to surprise him. "But --"
Ray shifted again, his weight warm and welcome against Fraser's chest, and his erection still quite noticeable against Fraser's thigh. Ray stroked Fraser's hair and said fondly, "You really do lick everything, don't you?"
Fraser put on his best solemn face, for all that he knew Ray couldn't actually see it.
"I do," he said gravely. "And if you'll allow me--"
He rolled Ray over neatly and straddled him. Rather pleased by Ray's soft grunt of surprise, Fraser smiled down at his friend, and reported, "Reciprocity is the hallmark of a strong partnership."
Setting his hands where he could make out the shape of Ray's shoulders, he stroked them down Ray's chest and belly, to close with eager intensity on Ray's narrow hips.
"All those years of licking things..." Ray said breathlessly. Fraser kissed his abdomen, pushing his nose through the wiry hair that grew in a trail down to his open fly. "God, it was killing me watching you waste that tongue, man. I mean, Jesus --"
Ray's shaky laugh was interrupted by a soft obscenity as Fraser sampled the taste and texture of the head of Ray's cock.
It was unusual. A stronger musk than his own, or perhaps simply less familiar. Parting his lips, he swallowed and set the head of Ray's penis against his tongue.
The moist head scudded along his tongue until it was fitted against the back of his throat. He paused a moment, breathing shallowly through his nose, aware of Ray's lush moan, and his own taut excitement. Ray's skin was hot and slick, and yet also curiously delicate. Fraser was reminded of the thin skin of Ray's eyelids. His fingers curled around the shaft, and his lips stretched around Ray's solid length.
The taste was sharp and his mouth watered, although he was abruptly thirsty. Fraser wondered how to go about his task with any grace or skill. He also wondered how this technique, which seemed so prevalent in the erotic fiction he'd read, could be so popular. Especially with the practitioner.
But then Ray moaned again and Fraser could feel the vibration as though it were an electric current, and the very idea that Ray was straining beneath him was enough to make him tremble himself.
Fraser experimented with a sucking kiss, and the action made Ray thrash. He sucked harder, and Ray's hands groped their way across Fraser's shoulders to mold against Fraser's skull. He remembered that many scenes included "tongue flickering" and he attempted that as well.
Ray surprised him by chuckling weakly. "Oh my God. You learned this from a book, didn't you?"
Fraser let Ray slip from his mouth. Slightly affronted, but trying to be circumspect, Fraser licked his lips, swallowed and --
His mouth was stopped by Ray's fingers, pressing gently against his lips.
"No no no, I didn't mean it like it sounds. I just mean...you're freakin' amazing. And I love it, okay? I love *everything*."
Fraser smiled under Ray's fingers, and once again attended to his task. He lifted Ray's heaviness in his hand and took it into his mouth, fluttering his tongue along the fleshy ridge.
Ray's soft sigh told him this was acceptable, so he continued for a while, exploring and lapping at the finely-molded crown until Ray grew quiet again. He tried to remember what else he'd read.
Flattening his tongue, he drew Ray in as far as he could, until he bumped the back of his soft palate. His throat closed reflexively, but he fought the urge to pull back, adjusted, and tried again. Changing the angle slightly, he slid down, opening his throat as much as he could, telling himself to relax.
"Ah! Oh, God, Benny, you don't have to --"
But he could tell from the tension in Ray's hands how much he wanted this, could feel an answering flush of lust in his belly as he opened himself to Ray's hardness and his need.
And something released inside of him just as he changed the angle of his head, and as if by magic Ray was where he wanted him. Fraser softened his lips, pulled back, and slid down again, his nose grazing Ray's coarse curls. And back, and down, and Ray accompanied him with sounds that were almost sobs, and Fraser moved just a little faster for him, but still slowly enough to savor it all.
None of the books had mentioned how challenging this was, but their descriptions had also fallen short in describing how rewarding. The heat, the firmness, the *substance* inside of him, and how it felt to cause Ray to make those sounds! He had so often wanted to touch Ray, even to taste him, but only now did he have the sense of the depth of his desire: he wanted to eat him alive.
Complicated scents surrounded him, sensitive flesh filled him, needy hands clutched at him until Fraser felt himself begin to harden again. He quickened his pace, not knowing if Ray needed more, only knowing that *he* did. Ray bucked up and went suddenly still, and then shouted as he thickened and spent himself on Ben's tongue. Fraser sucked greedily at the pulsing cock, moving back slightly so he could better taste it all.
Fraser's sense of well-being and satiety returned. With Ray lax and sighing, Fraser gave the softening shaft a final, farewell lick and climbed up to kiss his friend.
"Hey," Ray said softly.
Fraser bent his head and grazed his lips gently against Ray's. "Hello."
Ray looped his arms around Fraser and tugged him down so Fraser half fell against Ray's narrow rib cage. Ray kept tugging and nudging until Fraser was arranged to his taste, and then he nuzzled his considerable nose against Fraser's cheek.
"You are somethin' else, you know that?"
"I think that's probably the kindest term," Fraser replied wryly.
"I thought I told you to shut up," Ray said, hugging him tightly. For a moment, Fraser reveled in the embrace, but he noticed the chill, and was sure Ray would also come to feel it soon. Reaching out, he felt around for some of their far flung clothing and he came across a shirt...his own. He exerted some gentle pressure on Ray's shoulder, murmuring slightly and Ray took the cue, letting him go and leaning up on his elbow.
Dressed, they lay down again, for a moment awkward as each tried to hold the other. Finally they settled with Fraser spooned up behind Ray. He was unable to stifle a yawn, right into Ray's ear. Ray chuckled.
"Sorry, Ray."
"Oh, stop it," Ray murmured, nestling closer to him.
"You should get some sleep."
"And what do you plan to be doing?"
"Well...I calculate that it's approximately 9:45 PM. Based on the time of year, day of the month, our location, and the angle of the lean-to, the moon should be at the right angle to cast its light on your face in about three hours and thirty-seven minutes. I plan to be awake when that happens."
A pause.
"You're kidding me." A drowsy whisper.
Fraser kissed the stubbled cheek and held Ray tighter. Ray, in his turn, grappled with Fraser, his hands slipping under Fraser's shirt and over his chest and shoulders. Then they stroked down his spine and rested. Fraser felt the dull spot in his back gently touched, so gently. And Ray covered that mark with the warm palm of his hand and pressed his forehead to Fraser's.
"God, I wish I could take it back...So much, Benny, you have no idea."
"This error is the sign of love," Fraser said, gentle as Ray's palm against his own scarred skin.
"What?"
"This error is the sign of love, the crack in the ice where otters breathe...the puff of smoke that blows down the chimney one morning, and the widower sighs and gives up his loneliness.
"This error is the sign of love. The fault in the sea floor where the fish linger and mate... The wide Sargasso Sea that gives false hope to sailors and they sail on and find... a new world."
"You're a nut," Ray mumbled, and turned to kiss him.
He was skin to skin with this man he had served with and come to love. Ray understood him -- he said so with kisses, and he said it with his blood, hard and hot under his skin, and he said it with his breath, sighing Fraser's name, telegraphing it tongue to tongue, like a secret, carnal Morse code.
Three hours and forty-eight minutes later, the moon shone into the lean-to. No one was awake to see it.
END
AUTHORS' NOTES: The poetry Fraser recites is lines from This Error is the Sign of Love by Lewis Hyde.
Galatea is the statue that Pygmalion turned into a living woman.
Hypothermia info cribbed from www.adventuresports.com, without permission.
