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Three days from Maggie's to Yellowknife. One overnight stay and the next flight out. Ten hours to Edmonton. Lay-over of four hours. Edmonton to Chicago seven hours including the stop in Las Vegas. Forty-five minutes by cab to his apartment. And then Ray was home.
He stood in his hall, staring in his living room and wondered whether this was actually happening. It sure felt like a dream. He could remember calling Welsh from Maggie's phone -- she had refused to let him reimburse her for what was bound to be on hell of an expensive phone call, had called him family and that he and Fraser were free to stay for as long as they wanted. So Ray had just taken the receiver and called Chicago, while Maggie and Fraser were in the kitchen, making quiet conversation. There was the smell of fresh stew and coffee and he had been warm again since what felt like forever.
It all seemed weird now that he was standing in his apartment, which was actually cold and dark and smelled dusty. It didn't seem homely anymore.
Suddenly Ray felt tired and for a moment he could even blame it just on the travelling -- he wasn't twenty anymore, after all, and he'd been in transit for a couple of days and that did make you tired. It was just that and not that he was missing any stupid Mounties or wolves or even the snow they were without doubt playing with right now. He was just exhausted from spending so much time in airplanes.
When Ray fell into his bed, he thought to himself: Liar.
Ray slept until noon the next day and woke up only slowly. He'd gotten used to Fraser having already made coffee for him on their quest and waking up without the smell surrounding it was slightly disorienting. It only added to the general sense of weirdness. There were cars going past his window, voices from his neighbours, from people on the street, the usual noise you got living in a city -- only now Ray thought it was unbelievably loud. After the quiet of the Great White North, he'd forgotten just how noisy Chicago was. Not that the tundra was completely silent, there were all kinds of animal sounds, snow sounds and weather sounds, but they were kind of cool.
Ray wished he could swap the noise with those sounds again and it finally gave him the energy to get up. He wasn't thinking about that. Fraser was where he belonged and Ray was where he belonged. It was as easy as that.
He made himself some coffee and then a list of stuff he needed to get done. The list thing was one of Fraser's -- when you were out there in the snow, you had to be absolutely sure you had everything you needed with you. It made a lot of sense, more than the endless lists Ray's mother had made him write when there was another school excursion -- as if he wasn't able to buy another sweater in whichever city they were going to.
First of all, he needed to call Fraser. He promised, he said just as soon as I get home. Just to make him stop worry because that guy could worry more about Ray going alone in public transportation than how they would survive the next snowstorm. Ray had decided it was a matter of what Fraser knew: snow, yes, absolutely sure, public transportation? Not so much.
Then he had to do laundry because he didn't have any clean clothes left. He could have done it at Maggie's, but by that point it was already certain that he'd go back to Chicago alone and he hadn't wanted to impose on Maggie that much.
After that, he had to see Welsh. He had to because the guy offered him a job, although Ray had no idea what to make of I'm short a couple of detectives. Ray'd thought he'd be one too much, after Vecchio came back.
And then he did. He called Maggie who knew Fraser's new posting and give him the number of the detachment. Then he called them and was put on hold until Fraser could come and get the phone.
"Hello, Ray."
"Hi, Fraser."
Ray felt himself grin like an idiot. God, what kind of jerk was he that a simple hello could give him a warm feeling?
"I'm home."
"I see. How were your flights?"
Ray shrugged before he realised that Fraser was not standing next to him and that he couldn't seem him. "Cramped and tiny. It got a little bit better after that, but there was this whiny baby in the plane who just wouldn't stop crying. Couldn't sleep at all."
"I'm sorry for that. But I'm sure you're rested now."
Given the time Ray had woken up at, he could hardly be anything else. But why was he still feeling exhausted?
"Yeah, I guess. City's loud. I guess I have to get used to it again."
"After such a sudden change in environments, it could only be expected, Ray. The human mind and body are very sensitive to such changes in their habits and surroundings."
"Hmm."
And then it happened: Ray didn't know what else to say. He didn't know to say goodbye and call you next week, but what would he talk about now? How the city stank and he wished he could go back to the clean air of the territories? Whether Dief missed him as much as he missed Dief? Whether Fraser missed him? That was a dangerous area, one he hadn't touched since his phone call to Welsh, when he'd announced he had to be back by the next Monday and neither had Fraser mentioned anything. It was just best left alone.
"Well, Ray, I'm afraid I have to go back to my duties. I will call you next week, if you don't mind?"
Like fuck, Ray didn't mind. "Yeah, okay. Till next week then."
"Goodbye."
The line went dead. Ray stared at the receiver in his hand for a little while before he hang up. He had stuff to do.
On Monday Ray nervously walked through the 2-7. It felt weird being here again. Welsh was talking on the phone, gesticulating wildly. He waved Ray in.
"I'm understaffed as it is, I can't dispense with any of my guys!"
Ray sat down in the chair.
"Yes, it was my pleasure, too!"
The receiver hit the phone hard and Ray wondered whether he could still sneak away.
"Kowalski, you're a godsend."
That got his attention, though. As far as Ray could remember, not even his mother had ever called him a godsend. Seemed like something was up.
"I'm done a couple of detectives. If you want your job back, you know where your desk is and there are a lot of cases waiting to be solved. Go do your work."
And just like that Ray had a job.
He heard about Huey and Dewey going off to open a comedy club -- as if they found they were funny after all. He went there a couple of times with the guys and the beer was good, the food, though, and if the entertainment did not quite hold up to their expectations, they didn't mind. Ray was actually having fun. Kind of. No one commented on how Ray kept turning sideways, as if to share a joke with someone (Fraser) or how he ordered the large fries and then couldn't eat them all by himself. On a normal day there would have been a dead half-wolf with them who Ray would share his food with.
Only -- this was now supposed to be a normal day and upon realising that Ray lost both his appetite and his good mood. No one said anything, when Ray excused himself early.
Nobody said anything about Vecchio to him and Ray didn't mind that at all. He hadn't behaved very maturely when the guy was around and he didn't like him that much, so good riddance was really the best of it.
It took him a few days to find out where Stella was -- no one seemed to want to tell him anything, no one seemed to know anything, so he turned to his last hope: his mother. Who chattily told him that Stella had met someone and that they were in Florida right now.
"Florida? What is she doing in Florida?"
"I hear she's considering buying a bowling alley."
It was proven -- Ray couldn't leave town for a week without everyone losing their goddamn minds.
But that aside, everything was peachy. He didn't have a new partner yet, there was a real shortage of anyone suitable, so Ray was on his own (something Fraser didn't like at all or at least it seemed like that when they talked on the phone). It was good, 'cause he didn't think he would be able to get along with a new guy right now. Not so soon after Fraser.
And Fraser ... Fraser seemed to do really well up there in Canada. Each time they talked (Saturdays, 4pm sharp) Fraser was telling new stories: what Dief had gotten up to, who he had befriended, what kind of crimes Fraser'd solved that week (most involving drunkenness and violence) and so on. Ray was often content to just listen to Fraser because a) he didn't have that much to tell really and 2) he like listening to Fraser's voice.
But every time they hang up, when there was really nothing left to say, Ray's heart ached and he wanted to tell Fraser all the stuff they carefully didn't mention: I miss you, I want to come to Canada, do you find me attractive, as a man?. He never asked and mostly he could convince himself that it was better that way.
Suddenly, out of the fucking blue, Fraser had announced he was coming back to Chicago, to visit. Ray was fine with that, he really was, except it was only June and no way Fraser could miss the big stinky city so much that he'd come back to it after only three months in Canada. Turnbull had taken care of all his affairs back when they went on their quest (and he'd done an amazing job of it, nothing was lost or even mislabelled, something Ray hadn't though possible before).
Fraser didn't mention any other reasons than "seeing his friends again" and it made Ray really nervous.
Now he was waiting for Fraser at O'Hare, wondering when his machine had come in (Ray had forgotten the flight number) and what the fuck was going on. He was fiddling with his jacket and jumping from one foot to the other because Fraser was coming back.
And then there he was, tall, polite and very Canadian, complete with his flannel shirt and duffel bag. He pulled Ray into a tight hug.
"Ray!"
"Fraser!"
Ray laughed and hugged him back. It felt good, to have Fraser back and be able to touch him. He'd really missed the touching, since there weren't that many people Ray could touch casually.
On the way to the car they chatted about unimportant things, about the flight ("quite long and exhausting, I'm afraid") and Dief ("he took it quite amiss that he had to stay at home, but you know how much he hates quarantine") and Maggie ("she sends her best to you"). They reached Ray's car and then went to his apartment before the visiting started. Fraser would only stay three short days in Chicago, but since Ray wasn't the only friend he'd made during his time here, Fraser had to visit a couple of people, just to say hello and exchange news. So Ray sat on Mr Mustafi's couch and watched hockey, while they talked about Mustafi's wife and family and his job. Much the same happened at Mrs Gamez.
It wasn't how Ray had hoped to spend his Friday. He had taken the day off and he'd thought they would hang out a little bit, not that they would make a tour of Chicago, the stations being all the people Fraser had befriended in the years he'd worked at the Consulate.
Still he didn't explain. Fraser was here and tonight, after the dinner at the Vecchio house, Fraser would go home with him and then they could watch hockey and talk. Ray was looking forward to that. He only had to get through dinner.
Ray hadn't been to see the Vecchios for quite a while. He'd cancelled all invitations because he felt like the odd one among them, just again the substitute for someone who wasn't there. But this time he couldn't blow them off. On the other hand, with Fraser there, it wouldn't be all that bad.
At least Ray thought that until they came to the Vecchio house. Frannie opened the door and they could already hear the children playing and adults talking. Frannie let them in and announced them, very loudly, to the others. Ray's guts told him that something was going on here.
He knew what, when they entered the living room and there was Vecchio and Stella, sitting next to each other and looking mighty uncomfortable. Ma Vecchio immediately brought food, probably to stop any fights in the beginning.
Dinner itself was strange. There was a weird current running between the adults, who then made polite conversation which more than usually erupted into the loud yelling Ray was used from family dinners with the Vecchios. The kids picked up on it, too, and were wilder than ever. When they were finally finished, Ray felt a headache coming.
He tried to get out there immediately, but Ma Vecchio made them stay for a coffee at least. Ray excused himself to the bathroom to escape Stella, but he couldn't stay in there forever. She was waiting for him in the hallway.
"I need to talk to you."
Ray looked at the living room where he could see Fraser talk with Vecchio. No help there. Sighing he followed Stella outside to the patio.
"Yeah, what's up."
Stella nervously brushed her hair back and Ray's guts tightened. He really didn't want to know what was up.
"I ... am now with Ray."
Ray snorted. "Yeah, I kind of gathered that. But don't worry, I'm not gonna freak out."
Stella frowned, but Ray turned away.
"I'm going to marry him."
Ouch. Ray breathed deeply and turned back towards the house. "Well, if you want to be certifiably insane, that's your decision. Good luck with it."
When Ray entered the house, Fraser was already waiting for him. Vecchio rushed past them, scowling, but Ray didn't pay any attention to him. By some unspoken consent Fraser took their coats and, in a matter of minutes -- saying goodbye involved hugs and being given lots of leftovers --, they were out of the house and in Ray's car and driving.
Fraser let him be until they reached Ray's apartment.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Ray fetched himself a beer. He needed something to keep his hands busy.
"You knew, didn't you? Vecchio told you."
"Yes, he did. Two weeks ago, he called me and, well, inquired my opinion."
Ray sighed. Two weeks ago was when Fraser had first said something taking a short vacation.
"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you warn me?"
Now it was Fraser's turn to sigh.
"It wasn't mine to tell. Ray asked me specifically to keep it silent since they hadn't made a decision yet. He only told me the outcome when you left with Stella."
Ray rubbed his eyes. He wasn't hung up on Stella anymore, he wasn't, but still the news hit him like a bomb. He hadn't expected Stella to marry again so soon, least of all Vecchio. Although -- they had been divorced for a couple of years now and Stella was free to marry who she wanted. He just hadn't expected her to move on, while he was still single and lonely. And now he didn't even have Fraser to hang out with anymore.
"Yeah, I get it."
Fraser stood in the middle of his living room and the way he looked at Ray made Ray's chest hurt and he leaned against the kitchen counter.
"I know that this must be a difficult situation for you. Stella means a lot to you, but I'm afraid you'll have to let go of her."
Letting go of her was not going to be a problem, Ray thought. Letting go of Fraser was. Not that he could tell him that.
"I ..."
Fraser faltered and that was a strange enough incident that Ray turned to look at him. Fraser was looking out of the window and seemed to be somewhere else.
"I once lost the woman I loved, too. I know how it hurts."
Victoria. This must be about Victoria. Fraser had mentioned her a couple of times, but he had never told Ray the full story.
"But it is not the end of world, I've found."
Fraser touched Ray's shoulder. It sent a little tingle through his body and Ray breathed deeply. Fraser was just trying to comfort him. That he was having an entirely different reaction was not Fraser's fault. But Ray couldn't make it stop -- if he pushed Fraser away now, he'd be hurt, and if he didn't, if he let Fraser continue to touch him (and how much of a freak was he, that a simple touch on his shoulder could turn him on?), Fraser would realise what was going on, by smelling it, probably, and he would back away, leave, and Ray would lose him. He forced himself to talk, although he had no idea what to say.
"It's okay. I'm not in love with her anymore."
Sometimes Ray couldn't understand what Fraser said with words, but he was an expert on body language. Right now Fraser told Ray that he did not believe a word he said.
"Sure, I still love her, always will, because it's been such a long time, she's been my family and my friend for so long. But it's not "love" love anymore, more like friendship. I still care about here, but it's not her I'm in love with anymore."
Next to him Fraser stiffened just the tiniest bit. Confused Ray scanned over what he'd been rambling about, what he'd said that would have that reaction on Fraser? Oh, shit.
"But you're in love with someone right now?"
Fraser's voice was quiet and Ray could practically feel him put his Mountie armour on. There was no way Ray could back out now. He had to play his cards now or never.
"Yeah, I am. It's kind of complicate, though."
Please, he thought. Please go along with me here. Fraser hadn't removed his hand yet and that made Ray hope.
"I know about complicated situations. Perhaps, if you are inclined to ... tell me, I could help you."
Ray swallowed heavily. This was it. This was his chance.
"I work with this person, you know, well, I used to, now they're somewhere else, and I didn't realise it before, but then I missed this person so much. And now I keep thinking that I maybe didn't use my chance when I had it."
"You always get a second chance."
Fraser was surprisingly intensive and he had Ray's shoulder in a death grip.
"There's always a second chance."
Ray's heart was pounding away like he'd been running a marathon. This was it. Fraser turned to look at him and his eyes were so dark and so deep and Ray could not look away.
"I didn't know, I didn't, and then I came home and I missed you and I realised why and will you take me back to Canada?"
"Yes." Fraser smiled. "Come back to Canada with me."
Ray laughed and pulled him into a tight hug. "Yes, I will."
It took them a couple of years until Ray finally could come to Canada. When he talked to Welsh, he had found out that he needed only another four years to qualify for early retirement because of his time undercover. Together with Fraser he decided that it would best to take that option. Until then they had to make do with vacations and the odd weekend.
Another two months were needed to sort out his affairs in Chicago and to find another job in Canada, since they both agreed that Ray would go stark raving mad if he spend the rest of his life doing nothing.
It was hard, being apart for so long, but they knew what waited for them in the end and that made it worthwhile.
And now Ray was finally in Canada, moving swiftly past the other passengers of the small, cramped machine, looking for Fraser. He said he'd pick him up.
Dief found Ray first. He still jumped at Ray and tried to lick his face, even though he was older now and his joints didn't work anymore as they once did. And then there was Fraser, smiling and laughing at their antics. They hugged and Fraser pulled him in tight and Ray basked in the feeling that he never had to leave again.
Four years until early retirement, two months for his lease to run out and to give his stuff away, eight hours from Chicago to Edmonton, via Denver this time, five hours until the small machine left for Yellowknife, twenty minutes at the baggage claim, which actually was a glorified name for the small booth where he could pick up his suitcases and bag. And now Ray finally was home again.