Archive of Our Own

“So yeah, you won’t hear from me,” Ray says. “Two months, they said.”

“Of course, that’s fine Ray. Are you-,”

“Sorry, I can’t say,” Ray apologises. “They’re keeping it all very quiet. But I just wanted you to know.”

“Oh.” Fraser leans up against the wall and presses the phone to his ear a little harder.

“Will you be alright?” Ray asks.

“Me?” Fraser says, confused. “Of course. You’re the one going undercover.”

“I know, I know, but it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“...Nothing…” Ray says.

*

The weeks tick by slowly. Fraser still has a few months off—turns out that when you find a Russian sub your superiors are inclined to be generous—so he spends a lot of time alone in his cabin. He reads. He does odd jobs. He visits the blood bank in town; Gemma at the front desk is friendly, but Fraser still feels awkward.

“Fraser! How are you?” she asks.

“Very well, thank you,” Fraser replies. 

“A month’s supply?” she asks.

Fraser nods. “Thank you kindly.”

“Coming right up,” she says enthusiastically, pulling the boxes of dried blood from the shelves. “How’s your friend?” she asks.

“Ray’s fine.” The words come out of Fraser’s mouth by default, though of course, he doesn’t know that. Fraser is in Canada and Ray is undercover in Chicago by himself.

“That’s good,” Gemma says and hands him the dried blood. “Here you go, Constable.”

She smiles, genuine, and Fraser wonders how she can be so comfortable around vampires when without these boxes, he’ll turn into somebody completely different, somebody blinded by hunger. Even after all these years, it scares him. It doesn’t scare Gemma. 

He takes the cardboard boxes. “Thank you,” he says.

“It’s no problem at all,” she says.

*

A month turns into two, turns into three and still nothing from Ray. Fraser tries to be patient, but eventually, he relents and calls the precinct. It takes about twenty minutes but he finally gets through to Welsh.

“Hello,” Fraser says. “I’m sorry to bother you but…”

“Fraser?” Welsh says. 

“Yes,” he says. “I was wondering if you’ve heard anything from Ray. Ray Kowalski?”

“Ray Kowalski?” Welsh says slowly, like he’s never heard the name before and Fraser feels a strange sense of deja vu. “There’s no one called Ray Kowalski here,” Welsh says.

“Sir-,”

“But…” Welsh continues. “Well, Chicago…is very nice in the winter, isn’t it? Perhaps you might think about vacationing here. I’d certainly consider it if I were you.”

“Oh, you would sir?” Fraser says, slowly.

“Yes,” Welsh. “Think about it, Constable.”

“I will,” Fraser says and hangs up the phone. 

Fraser looks around his cabin, the old furniture, and all he can see are traces of Ray; where Ray laughed, where Ray moaned about being bored, where Ray cooked himself a magnificent--expensive--steak and drank a large number of cheap beers. Where Ray offered…Fraser tries to turn his mind away from the memory, but it keeps coming back.

“What, never? You’ve never,” Ray waves his hands around, “drunk from another person?”

“Ray…”

“But…really?”

“It wouldn’t feel right,” Fraser says, awkwardly. They’ve never talked much about Fraser’s vampirism. Even after all these years, a part of him is ashamed. Even after all the equality laws…when most people think ‘vampire’ they think ‘danger’. That’s hard to erase.

“But surely there are people who would…offer,” Ray says and looks away. “If you wanted to try it.” Surely Ray isn’t saying… 

Fraser tilts his head. “There are people who would offer yes. However I…once. Not never,” Fraser corrects.

Ray sits up, and his eyes seem more focused.

Fraser clears his throat. “It went…badly.”

“Oh,” Ray says.

There’s something about the cabin and the low light and Ray looking so soft and kind that Fraser feels tears threaten. He manages to hold them back but it’s an effort. He sips his mug of store-bought blood to calm himself but something must show in his face because Ray moves to sit next to him on the couch. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Ray says, putting his hand on Fraser’s shoulder. Ray looks thoughtful, and Fraser can tell he’s trying to work out who it might have been.

Fraser sets his mug down. “Thank you,” he says. Ray’s hand is warm, so warm it almost burns against his skin. They’re so close.

“Fraser…” Ray says, and his eyes are very dark. Fraser can sense the blood rushing through his veins, but then he thinks of Victoria, how everything went wrong… He can’t do it again.

“The bloodpull’s gone now,” Fraser offers. “It was years ago.”

“Yeah,” Ray says, but he looks a little sad. 

“It’s all in the past,” Fraser says.

*

The next morning Fraser locks up the cabin and heads for the nearest airport with Dief. He tries not to think of all of the ways an undercover assignment could have gone wrong, but they keep running through his mind. Surely Ray can’t be dead, he can’t be…

Dief woofs gently as they enter the building.

“Yes, yes, you’re quite correct,” Fraser says. If it were simply a case that Ray was dead, then there would be no reason to be cagey with information. No, Ray must still be undercover. But then why would Welsh suggest that Fraser come to Chicago? Unless…Fraser feels a little sick.

Maybe Ray is missing. That would make sense. And they think that Fraser and Ray are…that Fraser will be able to find Ray using his powers. He leans forward and rests his head in his hands. If that is the case, then they’re doomed. Because Fraser has never fed from Ray, there’s no connection there for him to use. Fraser won’t be able to find Ray using his senses.

“Everything okay?” Jim on the desk says, and Fraser straightens, tries to smile and nods.

*

When Fraser arrives at the airport in Chicago it’s mid-afternoon and the place is busy with travellers. Fraser feels the stirrings of hunger as he changes some money, so he stops to get a bottle of fake blood from the newsstand and then goes for the taxi rank. It’s a challenge to get someone to take him with Dief, but eventually, a kind woman named Jess takes pity on him. It would’ve been easier in the uniform, but this is unofficial business.

When he arrives at the precinct, it’s strange to be back. Everything is almost the same like he never left, but there are small changes here and there; a new photo on someone’s desk, a new plant, and of course, there is no Ray. There is, however, Frannie.

“Fraser!” she says and she looks pleased to see him, but also worried. She wraps her arms around him, and he tentatively returns the hug. “You’re here for…” she stops. “I know I’m not supposed to say, but you are here for Ray?”

“I’m here for Ray,” Fraser says. 

“I’m glad,” she says. “I’ve been so worried. But you’ll find him, I know you will,” she says.

“Fraser!” a voice calls and when Fraser turns, Welsh is beckoning him into his office.

Fraser heads over and shuts the door. “Sir,” he says.

“Constable,” Welsh says. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” Fraser says. “Sir…about Ray-,”

“Maybe we should take a walk,” Welsh says quickly. “It’s a nice day outside.”

“Right…,”

Welsh looks at him hopefully. 

“Yes sir, it’s a nice day outside,” Fraser says, and Welsh smiles. 

They grab their jackets and head through the precinct out onto the bustling Chicago street. They walk about a block before Fraser can’t keep it in anymore.

“So…Ray Kowalski,” Fraser says.

“Yes,” Welsh says. “They’re worried that the office might have a bug. Or a thrall…sorry, I know you don’t like the term.”

“It’s just not accurate,” Fraser says. “It implies total control, like the person no longer has any free will.” He thinks about Victoria…if anyone was ‘enthralled’ there, it was him. “It’s more of a deep, personal, connection…” Fraser coughs at Welsh’s expression. “Though if there is a spy in the office, they’ll have already seen me,” he adds.

“Yes,” Welsh says. “So we’ll need to move fast. I’m sure you’ve already put together that Kowalski’s missing.”

Fraser gives a sharp nod.

“I wanted to bring you in earlier, the FBI scrapped it…but it’s been long enough. Kowalski’s one of our own. We were hoping you could sense something?” 

“I can’t sense anything,” Fraser says. “I…we never…there’s no bloodpull.”

But to Fraser’s surprise, instead of looking down, Welsh still looks hopeful.

“Right,” Welsh says. “But did you know that Kowalski stored some of his blood before he left?”

“He did?” Fraser feels a surge of hope. “Then why haven’t the FBI used it to find him?”

“Because Ray only signed the release form for one person.” Welsh looks at Fraser expectantly. 

“Me?”

“Yes,” Welsh says. “If we get you the blood, you’ll be able to find Ray?”

“I…it’s been a long time since I…but yes. If he’s somewhere in the city, I should be able to find him.”

Welsh smiles. “They have it in the lab downstairs.”

*

“Okay, here you go,” the technician, says, looking closely at the number on the bag. “Yep, Ray Kowalski’s blood. Do you have photo ID?” he asks Fraser.

“I-, yes,” Fraser reaches into his rucksack for his passport and then hands it over.

The man studies the document carefully before handing it back and passing over the plastic bag. 

Fraser examines the blood in his hands, turning it this way and that. It looks just like…blood. A little thicker than the fake boxed blood, but perfectly normal in every way. 

“Thank you,” Fraser says. “I’ll just go…” drink Ray’s blood to create a bloodpull to him, “and then I’ll return the rest.”

“You will?” the technician looks surprised.

“Ray trusted me with his blood,” Fraser says.

“Okay, up to you,” the technician shrugs.

Fraser heads to the bathroom and locks himself in a stall for privacy. Cautiously, he unscrews the lid on the top of the bag and squeezes some of the blood into his mouth. Even cold, the taste is wonderful, and somehow Ray. He takes a couple of mouthfuls, enough to create a connection and then, with effort, screws the lid back onto the bag. Fraser hates the feeling, the part of him that just wants more, that wants to take the entire bag and… but Ray trusted Fraser with this. He’s not going to take advantage. 

Fraser focuses on his breathing, slowing it down, the way his father taught him. He runs his hand through his hair and then unlocks the bathroom stall and heads outside to where Welsh is waiting. 

“Constable?” Welsh says.

Fraser places his hands on the wall in front of him feeling the blood rush through his system. It makes him feel…alive. Awake. Less tired. The world swims around him, a little blurry, and then everything sort of snaps into place…and oh, there’s Ray.

Across the city and…not doing well. But at least he’s alive. Ray is alive. “I know where he is,” Fraser says.

*

Welsh assembles a team with the FBI--who are not best pleased to be overridden by the Chicago PD--and Fraser directs the van towards Ray, the connection flickering in strength.

Some of the FBI team give him wary looks, but there’s nothing Fraser can do about that. The bloodpull…well some magazines say that say it’s evidence of a predatory response to find prey. That all vampires are predators and shouldn’t be allowed to live among humans.

Dief woofs.

“Yes, I know I shouldn’t read those magazines,” Fraser murmurs as he runs his hand over Dief’s head in thanks. It doesn’t feel like Ray is his prey. If anything, it’s like before, with Victoria. Like without Ray, he’s the one who is lost. 

*

When they arrive at the warehouse, they arrive to a hail of bullets. The FBI try to leave Fraser inside the van, but something in his eyes must make them back down. They don’t give him a gun, and they don’t give him a vest; as if he needs them with Ray’s blood coursing through him. 

The FBI engage with the gunmen and Fraser lurks in the back of the van for a few moments and then flexes his powers. They don’t quite make him invisible but people ignore him, like he’s a part of the scenery. 

Dief barks once, disappointed that he can’t join.

“Sorry, but you know this only works for me,” Fraser whispers and then he jumps out of the van. He skirts around the edge of the building following the pull towards Ray, and luckily everyone is so distracted that no one notices Fraser slip in quietly through an open door. 

As soon as he steps into the building, he’s hit with a wave of cold, and when Fraser moves further inside, he finds the blood. Racks and racks of blood. Fresh it looks like, in plastic bags. 

Where did they come from? Probably what Ray was investigating.

Fraser’s head swims a little as he walks through the rows, but luckily he doesn’t see anyone, and his senses lead him to a door at the back of the warehouse. It’s locked, but a forceful kick has the door off its hinges. 

As Fraser steps inside the room, he is immediately hit with the smell of sweat and urine. But there, finally, is Ray. Ray, who is tied to a chair with his eyes closed, hair falling across his forehead. At the sound of the door, Ray looks up. 

“Fraser,” Ray slurs.

“Ray,” Fraser slides to his knees on the concrete floor and pulls out his knife, slicing through the ropes holding Ray to the chair. “We have to get you out of here.”

“That sounds great,” Ray says, but then his eyes slip closed. 

“Ray! Ray!”

Ray blinks his eyes open. “I felt…it’s strange, but it feels like you,” he says. 

“Yes, it’s me,” Fraser says softly.

Ray smiles. But then his face falls. “I don’t feel good,” he says. “Did you get him, the other vampire?”

“The other…” Fraser starts, and then something rams into him from behind. Fraser’s jaw crunches into the concrete floor as something--someone--slams his head into the floor. The breath is crushed out of him but Fraser manages to turn, and above him, he sees another vampire, fangs out. This vampire hurt Ray.

Fraser feels his own fangs come out with a scrape, and that’s it, he’s fighting for his life. Ray’s life too. Fraser tries to get his legs up and flip them, but the man is clearly just as strong as Fraser. Fraser takes a punch to the head, and then another one, and he can’t seem to get the upper hand. He can feel blood leaking out of the side of his mouth, and he struggles and struggles but he can’t quite… 

Until with a thunk, the man above him goes limp. The hands on Fraser’s throat slacken, and Fraser manages to shove the man off him. Behind him, there is Ray, swaying slightly, holding the chair, having just hit the vampire over the head with it.

“Gotcha,” Ray says.

But as Fraser watches, Ray collapses to the floor, and then Fraser is scrambling over the unconscious man to Ray. Fraser presses his fingers to Ray’s throat; his pulse is thready, breathing shallow. Fraser needs to call an ambulance. He looks around wildly. But how? How is he going to get Ray out of here in time?

“Ray!” Fraser calls out again.

“Do it,” Ray whispers, eyes still closed.

“What?” Fraser says.

“I think this is it for me,” Ray says, coughing. “Do it. Turn me. I want you to.”

Fraser snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “You’re going to be fine. Just stay with me.” 

Ray shakes his head, and it seems to take a lot of effort. “I’m dying,” he says.

“No you’re not,” Fraser argues, but Ray just lies there, breathing. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Fraser says.

Ray opens his eyes, though it seems to take a lot of effort. “Why do you think I…you drank my blood…” Ray says. “Now, my turn.”

“You’ll be tired all the time,” Fraser says. “No more food, no more beers.”

“Frase’, please,” Ray says, and then he’s quiet, just breathing wetly.

“Ray! Ray!” Fraser calls out, but there’s no response.

Fraser feels the pull fading…Ray’s dying. What is he supposed to do here? This is Ray’s life on the line... but there’s a reason people are so strict around conversion. If you regret the decision, there’s no going back. But what if Ray…what if Ray dies? A strange buzzing starts in Fraser’s ears and just gets louder and louder. What is he supposed to do here? How can he lose Ray?

He can’t. He can’t lose Ray. Damn it all. 

Fraser unbuttons the cuff of his shirt and rolls up his sleeve. His fangs are still out, which makes it easy to slice through his own forearm and press the wound to Ray’s mouth. Ray doesn’t respond, but Fraser manages to get some of his blood to drip between Ray’s lips. Is it enough? Fraser realises he has no idea how this is supposed to work.

But before he can give any more, the FBI burst through the door, and that’s it. Fraser subtly tugs his sleeve down as the FBI medics take over. There’s nothing Fraser can do now. Did he wait too long? If Ray dies…it will be all his fault.

Fraser slumps to the side of the room, feels the adrenaline rush fade and in its place, there is a cold, shaky feeling. He feels cold. So cold. He can’t help the shivering that comes.

One of the paramedics notices him sitting on the floor. “Are you okay?” she asks. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

“Thank you kindly,” he says, through his chattering teeth. Why is he so cold? And the connection with Ray feels strange, like it’s making him dizzy. And then with a jolt…gone. The connection’s gone. Fraser misses it immediately. What’s happening? He suddenly feels very confused, and strange…but before he can think to worry more, he passes out.

*

When Fraser wakes he’s lying in a hospital bed. His back is not happy--the bed is uncomfortable--and when he struggles to sit up, an alarm starts beeping. A nurse bustles into the room.

“Ah good, you’re awake,” she says, as she checks his vitals. “How are you feeling?”

“I…,” It all comes flooding back. Ray. “Tired,” Fraser says. He lifts his arm and notices the drip attached.

The nurse nods. “It was touch and go for a bit,” she says. “But Detective Kowalski pulled through, and then it was just waiting for you to wake up,” she says.

“What happened?” he asks. “With everything? Ray…how is Ray?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know the details,” she says. “But Detective Kowalski's okay if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll tell them you’re awake,” she says.

She unhooks him from the drip.

“I’ll just go and tell him you’re awake,” she repeats and leaves the room.

Off to the side on a table Fraser notices his rucksack with all his belongings, so he gets up out of the bed and changes out of the green hospital gown. He’s just buttoning his shirt when there’s a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he says.

The door opens, and there’s Ray. “Fraser,” Ray says, and Fraser notices his eyes drop to Fraser’s open shirt. 

“Ray,” Fraser says.

There’s a moment of silence and then, “Are you-,” “Are you-,” as they speak over each other.

“No, you go first,” Fraser says, feeling awkward.

Ray tilts his head. “How are you feeling?” he asks. “I would have been here earlier, but they said you needed rest and they wouldn’t let me in. You know, 'cause we ain’t family.”

Fraser sits down on the bed. “A little tired,” he says. “How long have you been awake?” he asks.

“A few hours,” Ray says, coming to sit on the rumpled bedsheets next to Fraser. “I feel…surprisingly good, considering, you know, I’m a vampire now. It worked. I didn’t know if…can you tell?”

Fraser shakes his head. “The bloodpull is only with humans. How do you feel?”

Ray shuffles around from food to foot. “I feel…alive,” he says.

“Undead,” Fraser says.

“Don’t,” Ray says. “You’re alive, I’m alive, so what if our hearts don’t beat anymore?”

“You’re right, of course,” Fraser admits. 

“But I feel good. Really good, considering…”

“Everything you went through,” Fraser says.

“Yeah,” Ray says. “I mean, physically I feel good. I do.”

Fraser stays quiet. 

Ray sniffs. “But I still feel…they kept me in that little room for days and days.” He sniffs again. “And I almost died. I did die,” he says and taps his hand over his heart. “No longer beating any more, this thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Fraser says.

“And I kept wondering about you…I mean, I left the blood. About where you were, if you were coming.”

“They didn’t tell me,” Fraser says. “Welsh did, in the end.”

“Yeah, I figured. But I still hoped…” Ray runs his hands over his face, and when he finishes, there are tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know…I just feel…confused. Fuck the FBI,” he says.

“Yes,” Fraser agrees, and Ray laughs a little through his tears. “Fuck the FBI,” Fraser adds, to make Ray laugh again. 

“Yeah,” Ray says. 

On impulse, Fraser reaches out for Ray’s hand, touching the back of his hand with his fingers. At Fraser’s touch, Ray stills a little, but then he flips his hand so that they can hold hands properly. Fraser looks out of the window over the city of Chicago.

After a few minutes, Ray turns to Fraser. “So…” Ray says. “You have someplace to stay?”

“I-, no.”

“Come on then,” Ray says. “We’ll get you discharged, and then back to my place. Hopefully it’s all still in one piece.”

*

It takes several hours for Fraser to be discharged--hospital bureaucracy--and then they get a taxi back to Ray’s flat. It is still in one piece, luckily, with a thin layer of dust over everything.

“Frannie has Dief, by the way,” Ray says. “She was looking after Turts while I was away too.”

“I’ll have to thank her,” Fraser says.

“She’ll be pleased about that,” Ray says, with a smile. “She came by when you were still asleep, dropped off your rucksack.” 

Fraser sets his bag down by the door. 

“I’ll just get a…” Ray laughs, brittle. “I was gonna get a beer,” he says. “But I guess there’s no use for that now.” 

“No,” Fraser says. “I have…” he turns back to his rucksack and rummages in the top until he pulls out a cardboard box of blood. He holds it out to Ray. “If you wanted to share…”

“Yeah, okay, why not?” Ray shrugs. “I’ve never…does it taste…” He shakes his head.

“You get used to it,” Fraser says. “It’s not like real blood, but it's serviceable enough.”

Ray looks at the box, and then at Fraser, uncertain, and Fraser’s heart sinks. Maybe Ray is regretting his decision. 

Or maybe it’s just the boxed blood. “Of course, you could always find somebody to create a bloodpull with,” Fraser suggests. 

Ray tilts his head and scrunches his face, looking irritated. “Fraser…”

“Or not. It’s an option.”

“I don’t think so,” Ray says, looking a little angry, and then Ray steps forward and takes the box from Fraser. “Guess I better learn how to mix this stuff up then.”

“You just add boiling water,” Fraser says. “They keep trying to create a better substitute, but this is the best they have.”

“Yeah,” Ray says. He walks over to the kitchen and Fraser follows. “Phillip…the vampire running the operation, he was stealing real blood. And making a pretty profit. So I figured the boxed stuff must be pretty shit.”

Fraser takes a deep breath. “Do you regret it?” he asks. “Me turning you?”

Ray puts down the box by the stove and turns to face Fraser. “I don’t regret it,” Ray says, stepping closer to Fraser until they’re about a foot apart. “But you know, while I was...,” the words seem to stick in Ray’s throat, “...in that place, there was time to do a lotta thinking.”

Part of Fraser wants to step back, part of him wants to move closer and never move again. “Ah,” Fraser says.

“Like, 'if I make it outta here, I'm gonna'...all the things I wanted to do. I think…,” Ray says quietly. “Being a vampire, I know it’s giving up a lot. But I wanna do it. With you. I want…I want…”

Fraser thinks back to their Hand of Franklin trip, all those nights together under the stars. All those nights wanting…then all the nights worrying while Ray was undercover. “What do you want Ray?” Fraser asks.

Ray sways forward and Fraser meets him halfway. Their lips press together and Fraser leans it to it. It feels wonderful, like the first sign of spring after a long winter.

“That. That’s what I want,” Ray says. 

“Ray-,”

“Don’t,” Ray interrupts. “Don’t get too up in your head about this.”

“But-,”

“Just tell me what you want, and we’ll work the rest out.” Ray looks nervous, like maybe he doesn’t know what Fraser’s answer will be. Which is ridiculous. As if Fraser might not want…

“I want that too,” Fraser says. 

“Yeah?” Ray asks.

“Yes,” Fraser confirms and slowly moves forward. They kiss for a few moments until eventually Ray pulls back and sighs, looking reluctantly at the box of blood on the countertop.

“So, you gonna show me how to use this stuff?” he asks.

“Are you hungry now?” Fraser asks.

Ray shrugs. “I don’t think so, I mean, I assume I’d know.”

Fraser nods. “You’d know.” Against his will, his eyes drop to Ray’s lips. 

Ray laughs. “Hungry for something else?”

Fraser feels heat come up to his face. 

“Hey, I didn’t say that was a bad thing.” Ray smiles, a little self-conscious.  “Me too.”

*

The weeks they spend in Chicago in Ray’s flat are wonderful and difficult at the same time. Ray is still recovering from his ordeal...but at the same time, Ray takes to being a vampire with an extraordinary amount of grace. He takes in stride the mixing of boxed blood, the tiredness, the lack of real food. The stares, the magazines, the discriminatory news articles. The way his parents initially react, with confusion and worry, while he reassures them that he’s fine and that he’s happy. Fraser has never been in a relationship like it before, with someone who knows and understands him.

The first time they separate after their ordeal is hard. Fraser has to go up to Canada for a meeting with his superiors about the submarine. Even though he’s explained everything before, they have more questions...and questions about when he’s going to return to work. Fraser puts them off, but the truth is, while the thought of no longer being a Mountie cuts at him, the thought of leaving Ray alone in Chicago again hurts worse. If Fraser has to choose, he chooses Ray.

After the meeting, Fraser drives through the dark with Dief to his cabin. When he arrives, he takes off his boots and then starts unpacking his bag, putting everything away neatly into the closet. He’s just feeling the stirrings of hunger when the phone rings.

Fraser answers it. “Hello?” 

It’s Ray, of course. 

“Hey,” Ray says. “How’d your meeting go? Anything important?”

Fraser sighs. “No. Nothing I haven’t told them before.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Ray says.

“How are you?” Fraser asks.

“Fine, everything’s fine. Kinda boring without you here,” Ray says.

“Here as well,” Fraser says. “I was just about to have dinner,” he adds.

“Had mine an hour ago,” Ray says. “Yum.”

There’s a short pause. 

“So, I wanted to...” Ray says. “You know, that thing we’ve been talking about, I think I’ve made a decision.”

“Hmm?” Fraser’s a little confused. “What thing?”

“Work. The precinct,” Ray says.

“Ah,” Fraser says. And then, “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you,”

Fraser can almost hear Ray rolling his eyes. “I know, you’ve said that a million times. But I think I’ve made a decision.” Ray pauses. “I don’t want to go back,” he says. 

“Ah,” Fraser says.

“And I was thinking...maybe I could come and stay with you for a bit."

Suddenly the cabin seems much warmer and brighter.

"I know I’ve been taking a lot of your time…” Ray says.

“You haven’t-,” 

"I have," Ray says. "But...our Hand of Franklin trip, I liked it up there with you. I think it’d be good for me. Whaddya you think?” he asks.

“I’d love for you to stay with me, Ray” Fraser says, and Ray makes a pleased sound.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Ray says, almost shyly and Fraser smiles, even though Ray can’t see it. “‘Course I’ll need to tell Welsh and get things sorted out down here,” Ray says. “Maybe a coupla weeks…” he says thoughtfully.  

“Of course,” Fraser says. “I’ll be back in Chicago tomorrow and we can discuss it then.”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Ray says. “It’s funny, I know a day isn’t a long time, but it feels like a long time to me.”

“Yes,” Fraser says.

“Though not as long as…” Ray stops and then pauses. Fraser realises Ray is probably thinking about the months undercover.

“No,” Fraser says.

“Sorry,” Ray says. “I meant this call to be happy, I know I should be over this.” He sniffs a little.

“It’s okay, Ray,” Fraser says. “It’s all fine. You’re allowed to take as much time as you need.”

“I know, I know,” Ray says. “It is getting better, but somehow I thought I’d be fixed by now. Back to normal.”

“Sometimes there’s no going back to the way things were,” Fraser says.

Ray laughs a little. “Yeah, of course. The whole vampire thing for one, no going back.” 

“No,” Fraser says. “But not just that.” 

“Not just that,” Ray repeats.

Fraser thinks of his father’s death, moving to Chicago, Victoria, everybody he’s met in Chicago. “I’m looking forward to having you stay with me. I already said, but I don’t think you know how much,” Fraser confesses. 

“I know,” Ray says. 

“And I know I can’t say this for certain, but I feel like…things are going to be alright,” Fraser says.

“Yeah,” Ray says. “I guess we can’t really say for certain. But I know what you mean. We are. We’re going to be alright.”