Archive of Our Own

“We are living in a world in which nobody is free, in which hardly anybody is secure, in which it is almost impossible to be honest and to remain alive.” 

– George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier

"Kowalski!" Welsh glared across the bullpen and planted his hands on his hips. "Kowalski! Can somebody tell me where the hell Kowalski is and why it isn't his desk?"

"I think I saw him down in Records," Dewey piped up. 

Welsh's scowl deepened. "Great, that's all we need," he grumbled. "Dewey, feet off your desk. Don't you have some cases to solve?"

"Ah, working on it, sir, following a lead right now."

"I bet you are," Welsh responded as he marched past, opting for the elevator rather than the stairs down to Records. "Can never let things go," he continued to grumble. "Take a break, I said, go on vacation, I said, would he listen to me?" Welsh growled to himself as he stepped into the dimly lit archive room. 

Down in the chilly basement was every case the CPD had ever had, all filed and boxed. Each one was marked solved, ongoing, or cold and stored accordingly. Welsh knew exactly which section he'd find Kowalski in. 

Marching down a narrow aisle, he stopped short of the man himself. "This isn't good for you, you know?" he called out, folding his arms. 

Kowalski barely moved, his eyes darting to Welsh, then back down to the box on the shelf in front of him. 

"Staring at it won't change anything," Welsh added softly. 

"There's so many down here," Kowalski uttered after a little while. "Cold cases," he added as he turned to face Welsh. "Doesn't seem right."

Welsh raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're volunteering." 

Huffing a short, humorless laugh, Kowalski shook his head. "Having one cold case on my shoulders is bad enough. I don't think it's for me. Something... soul-destroying about losing every lead and the trail going cold, you know?"

Nodding, Welsh grunted. He did know. He knew all too well. "It wasn't your fault, Kowalski."

Kowalski's eyes darkened, and he glanced back at the box, his fingers brushing against the name on the label. "She deserved better, still does."

"Ray, you gotta..."

"She was my wife, sir; you can't ask me to let go," Ray said firmly, his gaze hard. "Ex wife or not at the time, I owe it to her to keep looking."

Welsh knew he wasn't going to win this argument; he got it. Sometimes a case got under your skin. The case of Stella Kowalski's untimely demise had nearly broken Ray, and Welsh knew that the man still walked that fine line between sanity and not. "Come on, I got a case I think you're going to want to take."

Ray made a face but led the way out of the archives regardless. "If this is your way of trying to distract me, it's not your best attempt."

Welsh smiled faintly, matching Ray's stride up the stairs. "Wait until you see it. I promise you, it's right up your alley." 

****

Ever since 'the reckoning' in the late 1980s, as the politicians had started to call it, every police department had established a special division. Welsh loathed to call it 'supernatural' because it wasn't very super, and as it turned out, the creatures and people that had once been only the subjects of myths and legends did not feel very natural, despite being around the planet as long as, if not longer, than humans had. Plus, he'd found that detectives working in the division hadn't been taken quite as seriously if they announced themselves as supernatural cops. Instead, he had given his 'special division' a different name - The Chicago Police Arcane Department - CPAD for short. 

The commissioner had liked his take on it so much that the name had been adopted by all precincts in Chicago and had spread even further out of the state of Illinois. Welsh had even let her take credit for it, which had earned him a few brownie points. Those never hurt. 

He had strict rules for how his CPAD division was run too. He had it on good authority that similar departments focusing on Others were uncomfortably heavy handed in their processing of Others. As a result, Welsh had established a zero tolerance policy of any kind of abusive behavior towards these people and ensured they only arrested those that were caught committing crimes where at all possible. Sometimes though, a member of the public reported a suspected Other and Welsh had no choice but to send someone to collect them and send them to processing camps to make sure they got the proper documentation. 

These ‘sites’ had been set up just for that purpose, and to ‘conveniently’ hold any Others considered too unsocialized or dangerous to be released back into civilian life, as was the federal mandate for dealing with Others.

The number of Others going in to such places far exceeded the numbers coming out so Welsh didn’t give two hoots about any federal mandate. The job was the job, but Welsh had lived the job for long enough to recognize when an order didn’t sit right. This meant he was also incredibly selective about who he hired to work in this Arcane division. Cops or not, some people just enjoyed taking away the livelihoods of those that were different a little bit too much, and those were not the kinds of cops Welsh wanted working for him and serving the people of Chicago, including the resident Other population. 

At first there had been little to no interest in training for this special division, but then fresh recruits started coming up through the ranks with skills that had been unheard of back when Welsh was a rookie. Then again, the scientists argued that those so-called special abilities had always been there, just dormant, and it was like everything in the world had just woken up at the same time, triggering these genes deep inside human DNA. Welsh didn't pretend to understand. He was a cop, not a scientist or a politician. 

Now Ray Kowalski was one such skilled cop. He'd proven himself along the detective track more than once. He’d originally come to the 2-7 not as himself, but for an undercover assignment covering for another of Welsh’s detectives, Vecchio, who was helping out the FEDs and needed his identity protecting. Kowalski had stepped up and thrown himself bodily into the position with conspicuous ease, despite being completely different in both looks and temperament. About a year ago he had “transferred” to Welsh’s Arcane Department as Ray Kowalski and under the cloud of the case involving his ex-wife which had basically blown his Vecchio cover and forced him to return to his old life. Welsh had kept him on, both to allow a sort of pseudocover to continue and to keep a concerned eye on Kowalski for his own good. 

Besides, there had always been something singular about Kowalski that had tweaked Welsh’s suspicions, though he would never voice his suspicions aloud, but it allowed Welsh to continue treating Others as any other perp they would bring through the 2-7. If a crime had been committed, they were booked and charged, if not they were released and Ray Kowalski had never questioned this nor insisted they be sent to processing. Ray himself, had in fact, always had uncanny abilities. His marksmanship was unparalleled, despite needing glasses. His reflexes and his sense about people had definitely been useful in shaking down suspects or carrying out interviews. He could calm or rile a person in seconds, depending on what was needed, and it came naturally to him. The man had a spark, but was so riddled with this insecurity and doubt that Welsh couldn't even begin to understand. Maybe it stemmed from Ray’s failed marriage or his fraught relationship with his father, but it felt like Kowalski was looking for something and was becoming more reckless in his search since the loss of Stella. 

As far as Welsh was concerned, the man held on too tight. Stella had left him high and dry, couldn't hack being married to a cop, especially one with poor coping mechanisms–not that Welsh could blame her for that. They had been divorced for some time before she had been killed, however, and Ray had had accusations of stalking thrown in his direction. Nothing Welsh could actually prove, but for a brief time there, Ray Kowalski had been the prime suspect in his ex-wife's murder—her still unsolved murder. Looking at the man in front of him now though, Welsh knew it in his bones that Ray had not murdered Stella. A bit of a loose cannon, sure. A cold-blooded killer he was not. 

"So what's this case that's got you all excited?" Ray asked, flopping onto the sofa and closing his eyes. 

"When was the last time you got a decent night's sleep?" 

Ray shrugged. "I don't know, before I was born maybe?" 

Sighing, Welsh sat down and shook his head. "Maybe I ought to give this case to Detectives Huey and Dewey?"

Ray snorted. "Emotional blackmail, sir? Thought you were better than that." He got up and sauntered over to the chair opposite Welsh instead. "You play dirty."

Welsh just grinned and handed Kowalski the file. "This case is important to me."

Ray's eyes flicked up from the pages at that. "You, why?" He continued reading, putting on his glasses as he placed the file on the desk. "Detective Vecchio?" He looked up at Welsh. "This is the case where he went missing on the FED’s watch." 

"The very same." 

"Why am I only getting this now? He's been out in the cold for two months! Frannie has been a basket case!"

Welsh held up his hand. "It was a need to know. Do you know how many cages I had to rattle to get that file?” He sighed and perched on the edge of his desk. “How much do you know about why Ray went undercover?”

Ray shrugged as he scanned the first page of the file. “Not much, just that he was an asset and somebody needed to fill in his shoes in case anybody asked any questions.”

“Right. It all started as a straight up undercover job. Go under as a high ranking member of the mob, have somebody play at being him for a while, find what the FEDs need and get out,” Welsh explained.

Eyeing him shrewdly, Ray closed the file. “What are you not telling me?” 

“This all started because Ray was investigating the murder of a Mountie."

"A what?" 

"A Mountie, a Canadian cop, rides horses."

"Oh."

"We had a visit here a couple of years back. A Mountie, one Benton Fraser on the trail of his father's killers. Ray took the case and did his best to help him. He got posted at the consulate and stuck around for about a year liaising with us–was Vecchio’s partner for the duration. But then something strange happened, Mountie suddenly disappeared back up to the great white North and Ray was pulled in by the FBI to go undercover.”

“It feels queer,” Ray commented, absently rubbing his chin. “You think the Mountie murder and the undercover job were connected?” 

Welsh shook his head and folded his arms. “At the time, no. But something about the timing doesn't sit right with me, and now the FBI have come back to me; they still can't find him; they're hoping we can."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Ray was on his feet now and pacing. "The FEDs can't find him; what makes them think we can?" 

"Trust."

Ray stopped and stared at Welsh in realization. "He deliberately cut contact."

"Exactly." 

"Shit," Ray breathed. "Do we know why?"

Welsh shook his head. "According to the file, the last contact they had with him, he was on the trail of a Wendigo-type creature and he was ordered to kill and/or capture. Don't ask me how that's related, at this point I'm not sure what I believe."

"Bastards aren't going to get anywhere cutting them up in a lab!" Ray spat out angrily. "It's wrong."

"You're preaching to the choir, Kowalski," Welsh agreed. "Thing is, they ordered him to report his location and the location of whatever,” Welsh paused at Ray’s glare. “Or whoever, he'd been tracking for processing, and that was the last they heard of him."

Ray frowned and scratched his neck. "What's Canada's policy on animalistic Others?"

"Less brutal than the US, that's for sure." 

"They accept proof of sentience, sapience?" 

"As far as I know." 

"What about human Others?"

"If they are non-criminal and have proven sentience and sapience, they're accepted just like everyone else."

Ray sat down and looked pointedly at Welsh. "How close did he get to his Mountie friend?" 

"Like brothers," Welsh admitted. "Made him a better cop, and I'm pretty sure he made Fraser a better man." 

"Did they find the killer of that guy's father?" 

"Yeah, created a whole hoo-hah of a mess. Running theory is that Fraser was exiled here and then when that wasn’t far enough, to Canada's Northwest, I was not in the need to know on why he left so suddenly—but from what I hear from different sources, it's overrun up there."

"With Others?" 

"Bingo." Welsh watched Ray closely and could see the cogs turning as he looked through the file in front of him. 

"Ray's protecting someone," Ray stated finally. 

Welsh smiled and rounded his desk, sitting in his chair. "Those were my thoughts too."

"We've been ordered to investigate?"

"Yep."

"What are your orders?" Ray asked tacitly. 

Clasping his hands in his lap, Welsh leaned back in his chair. "Do your job, Kowalski. Investigate the whereabouts of Detective Ray Vecchio, last known to be crossing the border into Canada. I would be grateful if you could try to find him before the FBI does."

"And if I find him?" 

"Make sure he knows that CPAD has his back, should he need support finishing whatever case he's working on out there."

A small smile tugged at Ray's mouth. "We got some contacts in Canada that will give me jurisdiction?"

"It's already been arranged by the Consulate. Go there, get the papers–leave your gun on my desk." 

"What?" 

"It's not legal for you to carry, Kowalski, while you're on Canadian soil–leave your gun here. The RCMP are going to arrange a liaison for you once you arrive in Toronto."

"Great, that's just great." Ray fumed. "If I get bit by a Wendigo sir, I'm coming to bite you first." 

"Promises, promises, Kowalski, get to work and good luck." 

"Yes sir." Ray started to head out, only for Welsh to call his name once more. 

"Ray, your gun." 

Wincing, Ray unholstered his weapon and, with a wry grin, placed it on Welsh's desk, swapping it for the file on Vecchio. "Slipped my mind."

"Hm, I bet. Just make sure your boot gun doesn't slip its way past the border or I'll have your ass in a sling."

Ray smirked as he left the office. "Three bags full, sir." 

****

Packing his duffel bag, Ray frowned. He had no idea what to expect up in the Northwest areas. He was a city kid. If he so much as thought of stepping outside of it, he developed a rash. Staring at his wardrobe of t-shirts and jeans, Ray’s scowl deepened. Grabbing a couple of sweatshirts, he shoved them unceremoniously into his bag and tossed in some toiletries. It would have to do; he could always buy more outdoorsy clothes and gear once in Canada if he needed to. 

While heading to his living room, a soft knock at his door stopped him in his tracks. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was after ten. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Warily, he picked up his boot gun—in his line of work, you could never be too careful. Some of the Others didn't always have a great sense of personal space or privacy. Padding softly towards the door, he pressed himself against the wall when he heard the soft knocking again. 

“Ray,” a voice rasped.

Eyes widening, Ray cocked his gun. “If you're here to sell something or do something stupid, don't. I am a cop, and I am armed.

“Raaay… please…” the voice rasped and cracked. 

Daring a look through the peephole, Ray’s whole world suddenly spun away from him, and he staggered back from the door. “It's not possible,” he whispered in shock.

“Ray… Let me in, please.” 

Eyes fixed on the door, Ray pointed his gun at it and, with a trembling hand, unlatched and opened the door. Stepping back quickly, he kept his gun trained on the sight before him. “I have two questions before I shoot you between the eyes: one, who the fuck are you? and two, what kind of sick joke is this?”

“It's not a joke, Ray; I wish it was, but...” 

When they took a step forward, Ray tensed, his finger tightening on the trigger. “Don't you fucking move!”

“Please, Ray… I know this is strange, but it's really me.”

“Strange? Are you shitting me right now? You're dead. I saw it.” His voice broke, “with my own eyes. So either I've finally lost it, which, you know, is unsurprising, or you're one crazy farthammer to think I'd fall for whatever next level bullshit this is.” 

“You're not crazy. At least not any more than you were.”

Ray snarled. “Har de ha ha. You have three seconds.”

“I can't explain. I am dead, or at least I died, but now, I'm here, I don't understand it... and there's something after me. I'm really scared, and you're the only one I can trust. Please, Ray, I need your help. 

Ray swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “I saw you...” he choked back the words and, against his better instincts, lowered his gun. “I tried to find who did it... I'm so sorry I couldn't stop... I didn't protect you.”

“Oh Ray, it wasn't your fault.”

Ray tensed at first as those familiar arms tightened around him, but then he found himself sinking into them, a sob escaping his throat. “I’m so sorry, Stella.” 

****

“Look, I can't tell you that right now, but it's urgent.” Ray gripped the phone more tightly. “Frannie, Frannie, Francesca, it's just clothes; I'm not going to be wearing them. I'll make sure you get them back.” He sighed and rolled his eyes, turning towards the wall and away from the living area where Stella was sitting, watching him and sipping the third glass of water he'd given her. She looked good, a bit scruffy maybe, a few hairs out of place, perhaps a little pale but good. It still hadn't gotten less creepy though, but at least she didn't look like the zombies he'd seen in the movies. “I'm on the clock here, Frannie, please? Yeah, as soon as you can, yes, I'll owe you one.” Finally, he hung up the phone and rested his head against the wall, knocking it slightly a couple of times. 

“Everything alright, Ray?” Stella asked somewhat warily. Thanks to what had to be a gallon of water she’d drunk, her voice sounded more normal than it had earlier, for which Ray was grateful.

Turning, Ray flashed her a grin. “Sisters,” he stated simply. “Hey, uh, do you need anything? Food, drink?”

Stella frowned. “Ray, you don't have a sister.”

Ray snorted and began making himself a coffee. “She's the sister of the cop I was hired to cover for, so you know, it's like an adopted thing.”

“Oh.” Stella blinked, ducked her head, and tucked her short hair behind her ear. Ray recognized that body language easily. Stella had never been very good at hiding when she desperately wanted to know more but was trying not to pry. “Can you trust her?” 

Ray poured the hot, but not boiling, water into his cup of instant coffee and M&Ms and gave it a good stir. “With my life,” he replied quickly, surprised at how much he meant it. Francesca was many annoying things he assumed all sisters were, but she'd also been there during the hardest time in his life. She'd had no stake in his wellbeing and had hardly known him at that point, but she'd still been there. He'd asked her once, after a particularly stern lecture about taking better care of himself, why she bothered to care. She'd stared at him with those big brown eyes on the verge of tears and said, ‘My brother Ray is a cop, as I know, you know, so I've seen how hard it is to ask for help, to show you even need help. I'd do the same for him if he were here, but he's not, you are, and I know he'd want me to treat you the same.’

Ray, who was not used to anybody really worrying about him outside of his mom, had asked her less than tactfully how she could know that. Francesca had simply smiled and told him that's who Ray was. If he knew you, saw you had nobody, he took you in and made you family, whether you wanted to be or not. Ray learned from Frannie earlier at the station that he'd done the same to that Mountie Welsh had told him about. He'd unwillingly learned more about that enigmatic—and apparently according to Francesca, the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on—Canadian that day. He honestly didn't sound like somebody Ray would enjoy working with if everything Francesca told him was to be believed. 

“Ray!” 

“What?” 

Stella scowled at him. “You were daydreaming.”

“Sorry, was just thinking about this case I'm working on.” Ray didn't expand further; Stella had always hated him talking about work.

“I asked if you can trust her, this Francesca?” Stella continued more gently.

“Oh, yeah, she works at the precinct,” he explained. “She's bringing some clothes too.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “I can just as easily have worn your clothes, Ray.”

Ray shuddered a little bit. “Stella, no offense, but you've not exactly been yourself... I don't really want to get, you know,” he waved his spoon absently in her direction, “coffin smell or whatever on my stuff.”

“You're being ridiculous. This is like your stupid fear of old people smell, isn't it?”

“In my defense, they do have a smell, Stella, and with all the respect in the world, you're like one step past old person and just a dead person, so, yeah, I'm not sure that's something I'd ever get out of my clothes.”

“I honestly forgot how weird you were about certain things,” Stella replied, mildly exasperated. 

Ray just shrugged. “Everyone's got a thing; mine is smells... and, you know, deep water.”

“Oh, let me guess, you've still not learned to swim.” 

“Kinda been busy, Stell’, you know my wife being killed doesn't make me want to rush out to the local pool and take lessons.”

“Ex-wife,” Stella clarified, her voice catching enough to make her cough.

“Is that supposed to make a difference?” Ray demanded hotly. “Was I supposed to not care?”

Stella sighed softly. “No, I'm sorry, Ray, I'm just... It's just a lot, and I'm rattled.”

“Yeah,” Ray agreed and sat on the armchair opposite Stella. “Me too. But it's going to be okay, Stella. I won't let you down this time.”

Ray stiffened when Stella’s cold hand rested over his own fidgety one. He hadn't even realized she'd moved closer.

“Ray, there are many reasons we didn't work, but you letting me down wasn't one of them. I knew if I needed you, I could call you, and you would be there, no questions, no hesitation. You never let me down.”

Looking up, Ray met Stella's earnest gaze and basked in the faint warmth of her smile. “Yeah?”

“Not even once.”

****

Slamming the door behind Francesca, Ray clamped a hand over her mouth. “Frannie, I know you're freaked out, but you gotta stop screaming; for the love of Christ, stop.”

Wide-eyed and mildly hyperventilating, Francesca stopped and eventually managed to tear her eyes away from Stella to whack Ray’s head.

“Ow, what the hell!”

“Don't you take the Lord's name like that, Stanley; Ma will have your head on a plate.”

Ray scowled. “She's not here, Frannie, and what she doesn't know isn't going to kill her.”

Francesca glanced back at Stella and fiddled with her fingernails. 

“Frannie, you listening to me?” Ray stepped into her line of sight. “What she doesn't know won't hurt her, you get the picture?”

“Perhaps I should give you two some time? Stella interjected. I, um, I need the bathroom anyway,” then she stood and disappeared into the back room quickly.

Sighing dramatically, Francesca relented. "Well, how am I supposed to tell her? Oh hey Ma, this is Stella; she's been dead for a few months. Can she come for dinner?”

Ray shrugged. “I mean, knowing your ma-”

Francesca rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, she'd take her in in a heartbeat. But,” she jabbed a finger into Ray's chest, “that doesn't mean I have to be dragged into whatever it is you've gotten yourself into. I draw the line at returned-from-the-dead, murdered ex-wives, Ray.”

“I know it's a lot, but I wouldn't ask if I wasn't in a bind here.” 

Francesca pulled a face and leaned in, lowering her voice. “She's not gonna, you know...”

“What?”

“Eat my brains?”

“Frannie, what have I told you about those movies huh?”

“I gotta ask, Ray! I don't hang around with these Others like you do.”

“I don't hang around with them; I catch them, process them; you know when they commit crimes.” He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, very well aware that he was required to process any reported Other regardless of whether they'd committed a crime, “it's my job.”

“I didn't know your job involved hiding murdered DAs in your apartment–that could now eat your brains.”

Rubbing his face in exasperation, Ray groaned. “She won't; she’s not a zombie zombie, Frannie.”

“How do you know, Ray? Has this ever happened before? Because as far as I knew people couldn't come back from the dead!” she hissed angrily.

“What like Jesus did?” Ray jabbed back pettily.

Francesca glared at him. “You think this is funny? Because I can just go straight to Harding.”

“No, Frannie, please!” Ray dashed in front of her as she marched to the door. “I'm sorry, it was a low blow. Please, I–we need your help.”

“So answer my question.” Francesca folded her arms impatiently.

“What question?”

“The brains, Ray!” Francesca dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “Will she eat my brains?”

“I can hear you both quite clearly, you realize?" Stella interrupted, stepping out of Ray's bedroom, where the bathroom was. 

Francesca spun around and gasped. 

“As far as I know, I don't want to eat your brains. I don't know why I'm alive, but I do remember dying, and I know something is after me now.”

Francesca shot a glare at Ray. “You neglected to mention that.”

“It's not going to be a problem if you both just stay here. That's all you have to do, Frannie. Just stay here, keep Stella company, and call me if anything happens.”

"Oh, is that all?”

Stella frowned. “I don't need a babysitter, Ray.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me you weren't going to try and investigate your own death the first chance you got.” 

Stella opened and then closed her mouth. 

“Mm, that's what I thought.” He took Francesca's hand. “I have to take this case, Frannie. I have to get on that plane. Please trust me and just stay here with Stella and make sure she doesn't try to solve her own murder while I'm gone. I don't know who's after her, but they won't know she's here.”

Francesca pouted. “Can't you just hold off on your case, Ray? This feels more important.”

He squeezed her hand. “It's your brother…”

Francesca's eyes widened. “You're looking for him?”

“I'm going to do what the FEDs couldn't, Frannie. This isn't a witch hunt.” 

“You'll bring him home?” 

“I–”

“Ray, please.”

“I'll do everything I can to bring him home safely.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise, Frannie. As if he were my own brother.”

Francesca roughly wiped away a tear and yanked Ray into a hug. “I'll stay, go. Go find Ray.”

Ray gave her a squeeze and looked back at Stella. “Stay here, lock the door, and don't answer the phone. I'll be back as soon as I can.” 

“You can't expect me to just—”

“Stella, I mean it.”

Annoyed but defeated, Stella shook her head. “Fine. I'll stay.” 

“Good, great. I'll be back soon. You need anything; I am the only one you call. You have my number.” With that, he grabbed his bag and bolted out the door. 

****

Ray drummed his fingers on his thigh as the plane landed in Toronto. He'd tried to go over Vecchio’s case file again, but all he could think about was how his ex-wife was back from the dead and sitting in his apartment, afraid for her life. Since when did people come back to life anyway? That hadn't been in his training. As far as what he knew of Others, which, granted, was slightly more than the average Joe on the street, coming back to life wasn't something that had been reported anywhere else. He would have to double check somehow, but this was new. And if it was new, it was a big, scary deal. If people found out, there'd be riots for sure. Generally, people didn't react well to the fundamental laws around life and death being rewritten. A shiver crawled down his spine at the memory of the chaos in the wake of the Others revelation. For some, it had been the End of Days. 

Maybe Canada knew more, he pondered. They seemed more accepting of Others on the surface, although Ray was not fool enough to think there wasn't some foul play going on on their part too. People were people after all.

Stifling a yawn, he grabbed his one bag and made his way off the plane. Welsh had told him that Ray Vecchio’s former Mountie partner would be the liaison meeting him, but with Frannie’s almost alien description, Ray really had no idea what to expect as he strolled into Arrivals. 

“Stanley Kowalski?” A voice asked from behind him. 

Ray bit down on his lip at that name. “It's Ray,” he corrected, turning around. “Detective Ray Kowalski.” He stopped dead at the sight of the man standing before him. He was in full bright red Mountie regalia, complete with a ridiculous hat. His piercing blue eyes grabbed Ray immediately and held on with a quiet intensity that was a little unsettling. Whatever he had thought to expect, it wasn't a Mountie looking like he'd be better placed on the cover of People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive edition. He swallowed and scratched the back of his neck, choosing instead to look at the man’s mouth rather than those eyes—an instant regret on his part as Fraser chose that moment to swipe the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Ray,” he paused for a split second in apparent bemusement before continuing. “What an interesting coincidence that both my American liaison partners are called Ray.” He smiled blandly, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes, Ray noted to himself. “My apologies, Detective. I'm Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I've been assigned by the American Consulate to be your liaison for the duration of your stay here in Canada. Can I take your bag?”

“No, uh, no thanks, Fraser, was it? Can I call you Fraser? I could murder a coffee though.”

Fraser tilted his head slightly. “Would committing homicide against coffee improve your wellbeing?”

Ray couldn't help but bark out a short laugh. After the day he'd already had, this strangeness was nothing short of delightful. “It's a turn of phrase, but right now, yeah, my wellbeing would be greatly improved with any sort of coffee interaction.”

“Ah, an Americanism,” Fraser stated. “Understood. In that case, follow me, Detective; I know just the place.” 

“It's Ray, just Ray,” he clarified, getting the distinct impression as they exited the airport, bypassing a small cafe, that Fraser did not in fact know ‘just the place’ at all. 

****

Frannie uncrossed and crossed her legs for what had to be the twelfth time since Ray had left. She picked at her nails, trying to avoid making eye contact. Zombie Stella–or whatever she was now–to her credit, was quiet. Ray had left the TV on when he left, and Stella was doing a good job of showing interest in what was on. Or, she was just really into upcycling furniture. What the hell was she supposed to do with a zombie Stella while Ray was in Canada? She had to go home at some point. Just like Ray to not think this through. Frannie gave a soft laugh at that. When it came to Stella, that man’s brain turned into Swiss jelly. 

“Something funny?” Stella asked simply.

Francesca floundered for a moment, then shrugged. Surely the woman was aware of how Ray was around her, and if not, then it was about time she learned. “Just that I’m not sure if Ray has thought about this,” she waved her hand between the two of them. “Like I have to go home at some point, go to work; would have been nice for him to have some sort of plan, you know what I mean?”

Stella hummed her agreement. “It was quite a shock to him; I can understand him being flustered.”

“And that’s what’s funny,” Frannie continued to clarify. “I mean, you’ve seen the way the guy acts around you.”

“And how is that?” Stella asked demurely. 

"Oh, come on, you know!” Francesca insisted. “Whenever your name came up at the precinct, or you showed up for a case, only one of Ray’s brain cells continued to function, and it wasn’t in his head, if you get what I’m saying,” she chortled with amusement. 

Stella’s eyes widened a fraction, and she distractedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear while clearing her throat. “I guess, I was his wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Francesca corrected. “It’s like, dude, jeez, move on already, you know?” 

Stella huffed a soft laugh and averted her eyes down to her lap. “Ray can be tenacious.”

Francesca paused for a second and then flung both her hands into the air. “Hold on,” she leaned forward conspiratorially. “You liked it!”

“I did not!”

“You did!” Francesca exclaimed almost gleefully. “Having Ray always in your back pocket for those dry spells, I get it, brutal but honestly, genius.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Stella protested. 

Francesca just smiled. “Woman to woman, why shouldn’t we have a good one on the backburner? Guys do it all the time, but when a woman does it, it’s uncouth or unladylike. It’s 1996, guys. Get over yourselves, right?”

“I um…”

“It’s alright, your secret’s safe with me,” Francesca finished with a satisfied grin. 

“I don’t lead him on,” Stella tried to defend herself. 

“I know that,” Francesca waved her hand dismissively. “But you didn’t stop him following you around with those puppy dog eyes, wanting to help in any way he can when you were around either. Like that door was never fully closed,” she tapped the side of her nose knowingly and winked. 

“It really wasn’t like that. I mean, you know Ray. He doesn’t let go of anything. I was his Gold Coast girl, and I just didn’t want to be her anymore. Sure, it’s nice knowing he still finds me attractive, but honestly, he drove me crazy with it.”

“Oh yeah, I bet. The stalking your girlfriend thing, don’t worry, I had a stern word with him about that when I found out.”

“That was you?” Stella exclaimed. “I was so confused. He was always there, and then one day he just stopped. I honestly thought something had happened to him and called the station to check.”

Francesca smiled. “You’re welcome.” She clicked her tongue. “Ray is a good guy, but you turned his brain into Swiss jelly.”

“Don’t you mean Swiss cheese?”

“Jelly, cheese, all I’m saying is it was a miracle he could get words out. He was almost as bad as my brother with his ex, Irene.”

“Men,” Stella stated simply. 

Francesca nodded. “I used to be jealous whenever I’d see him sniffing around you. I always wanted somebody to want me that much, not Ray though,” she added hastily. “Ray’s great but whoa intense.”

Stella smiled. “I used to like that about him; it just got too much between his job and mine and him wanting children.”

“Yeah, couldn’t have been easy,” Francesca sympathized. “Sometimes, we’re just better off without.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.”

The two women smiled at each other for a moment. 

“So uh… What’s it like?”

“What?”

“Being, you know, dead?”

Stella shook her head. “I don’t really remember. I remember the moment I died and the moment I woke up; everything else in between was like that feeling you get when you wake up in the middle of a dream but you start forgetting it as soon as you’re awake. You remember less of it the more you keep trying to remember it.”

“It’s weird. I’ve never heard of anyone coming back. People are going to freak!”

“I think that’s what Ray is worried about. That and whoever wants me to stay dead.”

“You don’t look dead, if you don’t mind me saying,” Francesca said, looking at Stella intently. “Do you feel dead?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe colder? Like I think I can feel my heart beating, but I honestly could be imagining it. I don’t know what any of this means. It’s my first time,” she chuckled wryly.

“Can you eat?” Francesca asked. 

Stella thought for a moment. “I think I could eat, yeah.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Now that you mention it, I am a bit.”

Francesca clapped her hands on her thighs and stood. "Well, that settles it. Come on, let’s go.”

“Go? Where?”

“Ma will be waiting at home, and there’s always more food than mouths. Let’s go.”

“But Ray said—”

Francesca threw a pointed look at Stella. “You always do what your ex-husband tells you?”

“Good point.” Stella got up and followed Francesca to the door. “What does your mom cook?”

“Only the best Italian food as all Italian mothers do,” Francesca grinned. “No brains, if that’s what you were hoping.”

Stella laughed. “You have nothing to fear. I really, really don’t want to eat brains.”

****

Ray nursed his large coffee with both hands. It had turned out that Fraser had in fact known a place, and that place had been greatness. Coffee (that was more maple syrup than coffee, let's be honest) and a croissant, Ray would definitely not complain. With the croissant long since devoured and half the coffee consumed, he had started to feel somewhat human again. With his mind stuck back in Chicago with Stella and then the last minute flight to Canada, Ray had felt a bit wrung out. He hoped it would be a long drive so he had time to just process his ex-wife being back from the dead. It was pretty weird when he thought about it, and it gave him a headache if he thought about it too long. This was going to take him a while. Thankfully, Fraser was apparently Canada's slowest and most careful driver, so Ray wasn't too concerned with being anywhere particularly soon. 

"I was informed that you are part of the Arcane Division within your police force." Fraser stated. Ray knew it was really a question and waited a few seconds. "The Lieutenant did explain its basic purpose when I visited but he was ambiguous on the details. Could I ask what your duties entail?"

Ray smirked faintly and took a sip of coffee. "What you don't police the supernatural out here, Fraser?"

"Ah. I suspected that was what it was."

"That a problem?" Ray asked shrewdly, picking up on some tension from the unflappable Mountie. 

"Not at all," Fraser replied, flashing him a thin smile. "It's an interesting name; I suspect Lieutenant Welsh had a hand in its creation." 

"You know Welsh that well?" Ray asked casually, making conversation, already knowing the answer. 

"Indeed. He showed me kindness when I had to travel to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father." 

“Welsh is a good man, good cop, good lieu” Ray responded. “Why'd you leave? Didn't you partner up with Vecchio?” 

Fraser kept his eyes fixed on the road. “Well, the case was solved, Ray, there was no need for me to remain.”

Ray remembered his chat with Welsh before he left. "I thought you were exiled to the Northwest Areas."

Fraser shot Ray a sharp glance before fixing his gaze back on the winding road, taking a moment before he replied. "I...I was, I am, I suppose. I wasn't aware that it was common knowledge."

Ray smiled to himself at that. Everyone always underestimated the skinny blonde guy. "Welsh likes to keep tabs on the good people he's worked with." He'd already gleaned that much. He couldn't read Fraser as easily as he could most people, but his general sense was that this Mountie was a good guy. The only thing Ray hadn't been able to figure out yet was whether to gently pry information out of the guy or hit him with his suspicions straight between the eyes, because one thing he was absolutely certain of was that Fraser was definitely hiding something. "So why have they assigned you to me? Let me guess, it's political, and they don't want the American sniffing around the city, which isn't your jurisdiction anyway, right?"

"Astute observation, detective," Fraser complimented warmly. "I have been instructed to help you with your search of the missing Detective Vecchio and then to take you straight back to the airport."

"Hmm, figures. What they afraid I'll find?" Ray mused, more to himself than to Fraser. 

"I think it's more a fear of what you represent than what you might discover," Fraser answered, not meeting Ray's gaze. 

"Others. They think I'm going to come in here guns blazing, hunting Others? That's dumb. I'm not even allowed a gun here!"

"Be that as it may," Fraser explained diplomatically. "America's policies on Others as you call them are well known for being draconian, and those that enforce such policies even more so."

Ray grunted his displeasure at that. No amount of him arguing he wasn't like the other cops would get him anywhere. That was probably what they all said before they bagged and tagged every Other they could find, not caring what happened to them afterwards. "Just because something is policy doesn't make it right," Ray stated simply.

****

“So, States Attorney? That's an important job. Is that how you know our Stanley and Francesca?” 

Stella politely swallowed her mouthful of spaghetti and meatballs and smiled at Ma Vecchio, who was the quintessential Italian momma if ever she saw one. “Yes, I worked with the precinct quite often.”

"Yeah, and she was married to Stanley,” Francesca interjected with a grin. 

“Oh!” Ma Vecchio's eyes widened. “You are ‘The Stella!”

Francesca snorted. “That's the one, Ma. In the flesh.”

“I see, I see... he's a nice young man.”

Stella braced herself. 

“Twitchy though. Should take better care of himself before getting married. How can he take care of such a strong, intelligent woman otherwise, hm?” Ma Vecchio lightly touched Stella's cheek. “Dessert, yes?” She was already hustling into the kitchen before Stella could respond. 

Dumbfounded, she looked at Francesca, whose smile only widened. “I thought…”

“Italian Catholic momma was going to whoop your behind for divorcing him?” Francesca looked fondly into the kitchen. “Ma is many things that drive me crazy, but a fool about men is not one of them, not since Pop. He hurt her, so when he died, she vowed never again. And she loves her kids more than the church, so she won't tolerate seeing them unhappy like she was.”

Stella blinked at Francesca's frankness. “Are you…unhappy?”

Francesca shook her head. “I nearly was... lucky for me I got out, knew it would be okay thanks to Ray. My Ray,” she clarified softly. “He was married, though, to Angie. They were young and just grew apart. Stayed friends though. We all thought ma was going to have a heart attack, but when he came home, she just,” Francesca stopped for a moment and took a deep breath, “hugged him.” She threw Stella a wobbly smile and looked away quickly, blinking at the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, and shoved another mouthful of spaghetti into her mouth. “What about you? Any fallout from your divorce?” 

Stella respected the deflection for what it was and gave a slight shrug. “My dad never really approved of Ray. I guess that was half the problem. His mom cried though and said I'd always be like a daughter to her. We still talk.”

“Wow, and Ray's okay with that?”

Stella frowned slightly. “He doesn't really talk to his parents. Not since he became a cop. He and his dad just never saw eye to eye on it.”

“Damn…” Francesca murmured. “Dads huh?”

“I think that's why Ray wanted to be one so badly, or at least part of the reason.”

Francesca nodded. “Wanted to do it right? Be what he wanted in a dad?” 

“Exactly,” Stella agreed. 

“Do you think he'd be a good dad?”

Stella glanced at Francesca sadly. “I think he would have tried his best... but... I don't know. Not that he would've been bad at it, just with his job and his self-esteem issues and his own issues with his father... I just… It wasn't that I never wanted them; it just didn't feel right.”

Francesca placed a hand over Stella's. “If you think you made the right call. Then you made the right call. It wasn't his or your time.”

Meeting Francesca's soft gaze, Stella nodded and smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

Francesca smiled and continued eating her pasta. “Did Ray tell you they never found who did it…you know, who killed you?” 

Stella stared at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“Yeah, it got moved to cold cases after about six months; there were no leads, nothing. There were rumors that an Other had done it, but Ray didn't buy it. Tore him up trying to solve the case.”

Looking back down at her plate, Stella put her fork down.

“You okay?” Francesca asked in concern. 

“Francesca–”

“Call me Frannie.”

“Frannie, I think I know who killed me.”

Francesca almost spat out the water she was drinking and spluttered. “You do?” 

"Well, not definitively, no,” she admitted. “But I was working on a case. It involved mysterious crimes and bodies vanishing. The man that was accused of stealing them denied all charges but the police; they were insistent.”

“Did the guy have a record?” 

“No, he'd never been in the system. Had no fixed abode, had no job, and kept saying he was just passing through. It didn't feel right, so I started to dig a little to see who these bodies were, where they were killed, and if they were connected. I thought I was onto something the night I...” She swallowed. “In my search I must have flagged up something in the system or asked the wrong person.”

Francesca was leaning in closer. “What did you find?”

“They were all under the caseload of one of my colleagues, another ASA called Damon Cahill. He was a weasily little guy who was always in my office asking for advice. I told him how the cases didn’t sit right with me; the bodies—they were all mob deaths, deaths the FBI had ruled either solved or not suspicious—and I expected him to fight me on it; you know men and their egos. But he agreed they were suspicious cases too and wanted to work together on it.”

“Huh. That's….weird.”

“That's what I thought. That he agreed with my take on the case and wanted to work together was completely out of character for him, so I started investigating him on the side too,” Stella sighed and shook her head. “Everything I had was in those files that I had on me that night. Wouldn't they have been put in evidence?”

Wiping her mouth, Francesca nodded. “Most of it was, yeah. But if they were case files, the State’s Attorney, who is Cahill now, by the way, probably took them back.”

“Can we check?” 

“I mean, when I go into work, I can look, sure.”

Stella grabbed Francesca's hand. “I think whoever killed me knows something about why I'm not dead. And I think that's what was happening to those bodies, and somebody was trying to hide it. If he hasn’t already been targeted, Damon Cahill could be in danger. We have to get those files.”

Francesca grinned and grabbed their plates. “Say no more. We're going to have to give you a wardrobe change.”

“Oh really? Is that necessary?” Stella looked at the clothes Francesca had on. “I look fine.”

Snorting, Francesca stacked up the plates in the kitchen sink and kissed her protesting mother's cheek as she headed up the stairs, gesturing for Stella to follow. “You look like ASA Stella Kowalski, not quite deceased. You want to keep news of your sudden aliveness hush hush if we're going to keep you safe. So we need a disguise.” Francesca stopped and gave her an appraising look. “Or…”

“Or… what?”

“How do you feel about hair dye?” 

****

Ray frowned at the trees as they passed by. They were long out of Toronto now, and he was starting to get fidgety. Something was off. Why assign an exiled Mountie to him? What was the goal? What were they trying to hide? Why hadn't they gone to the Mountie mothership first? Things just weren't quite adding up, and ever since confirming what his job was back in the US, Fraser had been all but silent; definitely more tense. Ray wished he had his gun. 

“Here we are,” Fraser declared suddenly, pulling up at the side of the road. 

“And where is here?” Ray asked, perplexed by the whole lot of nothing but trees and the smattering of snow outside.

“This is where Detective Vecchio crossed into Canada.” 

Ray felt uneasy but got out of the truck. He walked a short way from the road and put his hands on his hips. “So, how are you going to do it?”

“I beg your pardon.” 

“Drop the polite act, Mountie.” Ray turned and smirked at Fraser. “I admit, it’s a good place. Isolated, wilderness, and let me guess, nobody knows I’m here, do they? Especially not the authorities. Is it going to be quick, or should I start running?”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t, until right now.”

Fraser held his gaze steadily, his surprise melting away to a steely resolve Ray had been faced with many times throughout his career. “You are quite astute, Detective. I was concerned that we would not make it this far without you realizing something. Subterfuge is not something I enjoy, but we had to take precautions, you understand?” 

Ray filed that ‘we’ to ask about if he got the chance later on. “Just tell me one thing. Does Welsh know?”

Fraser’s gaze wavered then, and he licked his bottom lip. “He did not want this, no. But he knew it may come to this if necessary.”

“If necessary?”

“If we found that you could not in fact be trusted as he believed you could be; I was actually surprised to learn you were a member of your Arcane division. I believe it is the first time I have questioned the lieutenant’s judgment.” 

“Fuck you too, Fraser.” Knowing that Welsh trusted him was at least a small comfort right at that moment. “The FEDs don’t know about this, do they?”

“No, we requested assistance; knowing that the FBI was getting closer, it seemed we were out of options.”

“We?”

Fraser hesitated and pulled his gun from its holster. 

Ray had genuinely believed the outfit was for show, and so the sight of the Mountie’s gun had him clenching his jaw. He held his arms out wide. “What are you waiting for? You’ve clearly decided you can’t trust me, so get on with it!” he snapped. 

Fraser held out his free hand, keeping his gun lowered. “Ray, as I said, until I can trust you, this is merely a precaution; please don’t do anything rash, or I’ll be forced to take measures.”

“Take measures,” Ray scoffed. “Who talks like that? Quit messing me around here. You’re in cahoots with Vecchio, aren’t you? You’re hiding him.” It was a partial guess, but while Ray wasn’t really a gambling man, there were just some things you had to follow your gut on. And he had a hunch. 

“Cahoots makes it sound so nefarious,” Fraser countered. “He is my very good friend, and he came to me for help.”

“If he’s in trouble, why didn’t he just let his handler know? Why not go to the FEDs? Running just made him look suspicious.”

Fraser frowned slightly. “Do you know what Ray was investigating?”

“An Other, a wendigo type last I checked.” Ray flashed Fraser a grin as a wave of clarity rushed over him. “I’m guessing he found it, or should I say him?”

Blinking, Fraser took a step back. “How can you possibly know that?”

Ray shrugged. “Again, I didn’t. Not entirely, not until right at this moment. But I can’t read you great, which only happens with Others. And, if I’m going to die anyway, I figured it was worth taking the risk and following a hunch. So he found you, and what? Didn’t want to turn his best friend in? Why are the FEDs even after you, Fraser? Jurisdiction for Others stops at the border.”

“They don’t just want me for what I am,” Fraser clarified. “But also what I know.” 

“Vecchio was going to lead them to you, except he didn’t go along with their plan and disappeared instead.” Ray shook his head. This was all getting a little too ‘TV plothole’ ridiculous. “So they wanted someone to flush him out and, by association, you as well, but Welsh was one step ahead and knew exactly who to call before the FEDs took over the case; have I got that right?”

“Quite,” Fraser confirmed. “So you see why we had to be careful. As an Arcane Detective, you are the last person I expected Welsh to send to help us.”

“Pop him in the head, son. Right between the eyes.” 

Ray glared at the other older Mountie, who had somehow walked out of the trees without a sound. Looking back at Fraser, for the first time since he’d met the guy, he sensed a burst of frustration. In fact, it virtually resonated from the man. “Not much I can do to change your mind or make you trust me, so you might as well shoot me.”

“See, son, he might be a Yank, but he knows when you’ve got to face your fate like a man.”

“I’m not going to shoot him–you,” Fraser argued, his gaze flicking to the man standing beside him and back to Ray.

“Yank or not, old man, maybe Welsh was hoping that instead you guys trusted him. Ever think about that?”

Fraser and the old man stared at him wide-eyed. 

“You can see me?… ”You can see him?” they asked at the same time.

“Is that a trick question? I just figured you needed moral support to execute someone, a cop no less.”

The old man adjusted his fur cap. “Great Scott. He can see me, Benton.”

“Yes, I believe he can, Dad.”

“Dad?” Ray scowled. “I thought your dad was dead.”

Fraser nodded quickly. “Oh yes, he is.”

“Quite dead,” the old Mountie agreed. 

Ray just stared at them both. “What the fu-”

“Language,” the old man chided, cutting him off. “I might be dead, but that’s no reason to be impolite.”

“So you’re actually dead? Not like resurrected, was dead but now alive, right?”

“What kind of question is that?” The old man frowned and approached Ray, his hand outstretched. “Sergeant Robert Fraser, it’s a pleasure.”

Gob-smacked, Ray went to shake his hand, only to grab at thin air. 

“Oh, sorry, I forgot,” Robert chortled. 

Fraser also approached, his demeanor wary, uncertain. “You’re an Other,” he stated. “Why didn’t the Lieutenant say anything?” It could have prevented all of this.”

"Oh, you trust me now you know I’m a freak?”

“You’re not a freak,” Fraser insisted sternly. 

“Speak for yourself,” Ray grumbled. “He didn’t tell you, because he doesn’t know. At least I think he suspects, doesn’t know for sure. It’s not in my records; I was never registered. Hell, I’m not even entirely sure what I am. My skills are passive, mostly picking up a sense of what people are thinking or feeling or considering doing next—like really good hunches—I’ve learned to trust my gut, especially of Others; I’m a better than average shot too, and I can see dead people apparently, though that’s a new one. The key is they’re invisible or easily hidden talents, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Isn’t that illegal in America?” Fraser asked. 

Ray smirked and scratched his neck. “What they don’t know won’t kill them or me.”

“Do you think they would if they found out?”

“Kill me?” Ray huffed out a laugh. “Oh yeah. Probably worse if I’m being honest.”

“So why do you do it? Process them, I mean?” 

Ray swallowed that bubble of guilt he always pushed to the back of his mind. “Better me than someone else. Give ‘em half a chance, you know?” 

Robert hummed in response. “Not too dissimilar from my day when we were sent out to ‘handle the natives,' and in many cases relocating them against their wishes,” he explained, disgust written all over his face. “It takes courage to work from inside the system doing what little good you can. It can’t be easy.”

“No, it’s not,” Ray agreed softly, meeting the old man’s gaze and getting the distinct impression he was being appraised. 

Fraser nodded in understanding. “We should go. Ray is waiting for us.”

“So you trust me now?” 

Their eyes met as Fraser gave him a small yet warm smile. “As my father says, it takes courage. The kind of courage that only comes from a certain kind of man, a good man.” His smile widened slightly. “Come.” 

Ray couldn’t help but smile to himself as Fraser turned and headed back to the truck, his cheeks warming at his words. Then he caught Robert watching him with some vague amusement. “What?”

Robert smiled, his eyes twinkling, and shrugged. "Oh, nothing, nothing at all.” Then he vanished. 

Feeling like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Ray shoved his hands in his pockets and followed Fraser to the truck. 

****

“I don’t know about this, Frannie.” Stella pulled the baseball cap further down in an attempt to cover her face and newly dyed auburn hair. 

“Don’t worry, you look great!” Frannie exclaimed. “I didn’t even recognize you, and you walked out of my bathroom. Come on, it’s shift change, so everyone’s going to be busy not wondering who I’m with.” 

Feeling very out of place in the hoodie, jeans, and baseball cap, Stella followed Francesca closely, ducking her head whenever she saw a cop she recognized, which was often. 

“Francesca, there you are; the chief’s been asking for you; did your ma like the recipe?” A raven-haired desk sergeant asked as they made their way past the reception desk. Francesca stopped. “She sure did, Gwen, thanks.”

“I told Welsh you’d go see him first thing; he said it was urgent,” Gwen said quickly, preventing them from leaving. 

“Great,” Francesca sighed. “Gwen, could you show my friend to the cold case store, give her a visitor’s pass?”

“It’s against protocol. Reminds me of when your brother tried to do the same thing with that friend of his; he thought he was so charming.”

“Right, I know, but I promised I’d help; it’s you know for Kowalski’s case. She’s a... a source and is helping him connect some dots. You know how he gets people in sometimes? I’ll be down there as soon as I’ve finished with Welsh.”

“Oh, I suppose I can for you. Detective Kowalski rarely does it properly. Never asks. No name badge, no sign in, just takes them down, drives me crazy, but he’s such a nice young man, if a little unhinged, do you know what I mean?”

“Sure, sure, Gwen,” Francesca replied impatiently before glancing at Stella. “Go with her; find your box; I’ll meet you down there.”

Stella didn’t have time to argue before Frannie was gone. She turned to look at Gwen, who smiled plainly at her. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Stella said quickly.

“Hmm, you look so familiar,” Gwen mused. “Must be from that new crime show I’m watching,” she declared. “Have you seen it?”

“No, I–”

 “You definitely should. It makes you wonder what is going on in the system when criminals we catch don’t get convictions. It wouldn’t be that way if I were working as a prosecutor. Well, come along; I haven’t got all day, you know.”

****

If there was one thing 11 years prosecuting criminals didn't prepare you for, it was reading the case file of your own unsolved murder. Stella sat at a desk, tucked away among the aisles of boxes, reading the details of how she'd died for what had to be the fifteenth time. She wasn't really sure, she'd lost count. Time felt like it had slowed around her as she tried to take it in. It was like it had happened to somebody else. So to see the forensics photographs of the crime scene, of her body, of all her injuries–injuries that were now suspiciously absent–made her head swim. 

Deep in the throes of reliving her own death, Stella was snapped back to reality at the sound of approaching footsteps—footsteps of someone trying not to be heard and moving too slowly to be somebody familiar with the layout. Grabbing the case file and shoving it under her hoody, Stella slipped behind the shelving, squeezing between the rack and the wall and froze as a shadowy figure rounded the corner at the other end of the aisle. 

Thankfully, lighting down here wasn't the best. Shrouded in darkness at the back of the room, Stella dashed silently to the next shelf over. Listening out for those footsteps, she moved in time with them, covering her own movement as she crept towards the end of her new aisle, staying hidden behind rows of boxes, while still being able to peek through the gaps. The figure uttered a soft curse, presumably upon finding her box open and her case file missing. 

Stella had no way of knowing whether this person had followed her here or had intended to take the case file for themselves—for all she knew they were looking for her right now. Straining, she heard whoever it was quietly talking on their phone and used that opportunity to silently creep even further back into the depths of the room. The shelves back here were covered in dust and piled high, with even more boxes stacked on the floor between shelves. Crouching right at the back, blanketed by darkness, her heart pounding in her chest, Stella waited. From this angle she could see the central aisle and the exit doors to the stairs. 

She toyed with making a run for it when the figure appeared again in the middle of the room. A gasp almost escaped her throat and she covered her mouth, holding her breath as she watched. For a brief, agonising second the man, dressed all in black, turned to look right at her. Stella couldn't have looked away if she'd tried. Paralyzed by fear she silently prayed to whatever deity that might be paying attention, to not let him see her. 

Her lungs screamed at her to take a breath, but Stella couldn't risk it. She held completely still and waited. The man hesitated, but after what felt like an entire lifetime, finally turned away and began heading back towards the entrance, looking between the rows of shelves as he went. It was a long time after he'd disappeared through the double doors and back up to the station before Stella dared to move, her legs cramping and protesting being crouched and still for so long. Even then, she couldn't bring herself to head for the exit. A small voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Ray, warned her that he could be waiting just outside those doors. 

Stella swore under her breath, there had to be another way out. Surely there were fire doors down here. Stepping over boxes, Stella walked along the wall at the back of the room first left and then over to the other side. Finally, she spotted a fire exit sign about half way down the right wall, and allowed herself a small smile. The doors had boxes piled in front of them, but that didn't matter—the moment she opened those doors, an alarm would sound and any chaos that caused would make it a thousand times harder to find someone in an already bustling police station. Darting towards the door, she grimaced when one pile of boxes fell away, their contents spilling onto the smooth floor. Without much further ado, she tugged the hood of her hoodie over her head and shoved the fire door open. 

A loud alarm screeched above her and she was greeted by a set of concrete stairs that ascended into daylight. Running, Stella found herself in the alley behind the 2-7 and dashed onto the main street, slowing her pace as she stepped into the flow of pedestrian traffic, inconspicuous once more. 

**** 

Francesca jumped when the alarm sounded, and ran out of the bullpen and down the stairs, almost barrelling into Dewey who called after her as she ran. 

As chaos erupted, Francesca pushed through halls crowded with people trying to get out of the station and cops trying to stop those making the most of such an opportunity. She stopped short when she saw a suspicious, dark-clothed man come up the stairs from the archive room. He looked right at her for a heart-stopping few seconds, his eyes hidden by sunglasses, before turning away and leaving with his accomplice. Whoever they were, Francesca knew they weren't supposed to be there and they seemed too shifty to be FEDs.

Heart thumping, Francesca darted down into the archive and peered down each aisle. “Stella?” she hissed urgently. She found Stella's file box, empty with no sign of Stella. Starting to panic, Francesca looked all over the archive calling Stella's name as discretely as she could before coming to a stop at the open fire exit. “Ray's going to kill me,” she uttered despondently. 

“Ray will have to get in line.”

Francesca started at the gruff voice and turned slowly, a hesitant smile on her face. “Lieutenant?”

“You mind telling me why, with the fire alarm going off, you are running further into instead of out of the station, why there were two goons skulking about my precinct, and why you're down here calling out a dead state's attorney’s name?”

Francesca let out a nervous laugh and fingered her hair. “Funny story…um, you're not going to like it and you definitely won't believe it, sir.”

Welsh raised an eyebrow. “Oh I'm sure,” he replied dryly, folding his arms. “However, it seems Miss Vecchio, that you have my full attention.”

****

“Fraser.”

“Yes, Ray?”

“What the hell is that?”

“It's a plane, Ray.”

Ray scowled at the Mountie. He was starting to feel like he was being pranked. “That thing is not a plane.”

“I assure you that it is,” Fraser insisted, somewhat perplexed. 

“Fraser, I've seen planes, alright. I've been on planes. Obviously. That tin can with wings looks like a children's toy. There's no way I'm getting in that thing.”

Fraser frowned slightly. “It's a light aircraft, Ray. They're commonly used in areas that don't have the infrastructure for larger planes. It's perfectly safe, I assure you.”

“Perfectly safe my ass,” Ray grumbled. “Can't we drive?”

Huffing a soft laugh, Fraser headed out of the tiny airport terminal where they'd bought their tickets. “Ray it would take several days to drive to where we need to go.” He began to lead the way to the aircraft waiting on the dusty tarmac. 

A cold wind picked up and sent a shudder right down to Ray’s bones and he scowled. 

“Look at it this way,” Fraser said cheerfully. “At least you’ll be on the inside of the plane.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Ray muttered and made a face as he followed. He didn’t want to know what the Mountie did for fun but he definitely got the distinct impression that Fraser was the type to throw a person out of a moving aircraft should the situation call for it. Being an Other aside, the man was clearly certifiable. “So tell me, Fraser,” he started as he sat in the cramped seat beside the Mountie. “Do you show every American you meet a good time up in the Northwest areas?” He smirked as he watched Fraser’s pale neck above his dark collar turn a rosey pink. 

“Territories, Ray.” Fraser replied, casting him a small yet amused smile, “And only the ones I like,” he added as the plane rumbled into life. 

Ray tried to settle into his seat as the propeller outside his window whirled faster and faster. At least he’d somehow managed to worm his way into the Mountie’s ‘okay books’ before he plummeted to his death, he thought with a rising nausea as the plane began to speed down the runway. Ray sucked in a sharp gasp of air, bracing as the plane jerked while it lifted into the air, and grabbed the arm of his seat, which just so happened to be supporting Fraser’s hand. “Sorry,” he breathed, snatching it back quickly.

“It’s quite alright, Ray. Light planes can exacerbate already existing anxieties one might have about flying that they may otherwise not experience in larger aircraft. It is common to be nervous when travelling in one for the first time.” Fraser’s gaze was understanding and Ray saw no derision or mockery when their eyes met. “In fact,” Fraser continued far more cheerfully than Ray thought was necessary. “Let me tell you about the first time Ray Vecchio travelled in a light plane.”

Ray didn’t really care about Ray’s adventures with Fraser and boy didn’t that sound awfully petty in his head, but the way Fraser giggled right at that moment had his attention and suddenly the plane didn’t feel quite so scary and his death seemed less imminent as Fraser’s voice rolled through him like a gentle wave, soothing the butterflies in his stomach. He caught Fraser’s dad, sitting across from them, just watching and giving him that damned unreadable smile of his. When Ray frowned, Robert Fraser just winked, his smile broadening as Fraser regaled him with Ray Vecchio’s harrowing first light plane experience. 

****

Welsh parked the car a little way from the SA’s building and turned off the engine. “Francesca, do you really think this is wise?”

“Lieutenant, I told you, if Stella’s got the files then this is where she’ll go.”

Welsh’s frown deepened. “And if it’s all been a trap?”

Francesca scoffed. “What? Stella faked her own death just to fake her own resurrection so she could grab the files of her fake murder?” 

“Stranger things have happened,” Welsh grumbled in defeat. He wasn’t sure how much of Francesca’s story he believed. Not that he didn’t trust Francesca, but if people were suddenly being raised from the dead then that was going to create a whole new fresh hell of problems. He’d been tangentially aware of some of Ray’s cases having unexplained bodies going missing after unsolved murders and had started to wonder if something more wasn’t afoot. And for they knew, Stella could have been in the thick of it. Plus, if Ray Vecchio had known about the involvement of the FEDs then it made sense he’d vanished too. Welsh had long held such suspicions but now the threads were starting to string together; if only the commissioner had been willing to listen to him about the FEDs and the mob collaborating all these years. He wasn’t just paranoid after all. “If there is a cover up like you say there is and I know Kowalski thought the same, then going in there isn’t safe.” He sighed. “If Stella had come to me then–”

“–Lieu’, you couldn’t have done anything. You’re too visible. Might’ve even gotten yourself a nice fat target on your back if the FEDs really are in on it.” 

“Francesca–”

“I bet it goes all the way to the top,” she fumed. “It’s why my brother disappeared and it’s why Stella went to Ray.”

“Francesca!”

“Hell he was even a suspect in her murder for a time so he’s the last person anyone would’ve expected her to go to. I’m not even sure how he’ll feel about me telling you.” 

“I got it, Francesca!” Welsh exclaimed after finally managing to get a word in. “But you’re not going in there by yourself.”

Eyes widening as Welsh pulled on his official Lieutenant’s jacket and holstered his weapon, Francesca smiled. “Harding…”

Welsh huffed. “Don’t start. Do you really think I’d hear the end of it from either Ray if I let something happen to you and to the newly resurrected Ms Kowalski, hm? Besides, do you even know where to start once you get inside? It’s the middle of the day.” 

Francesca conceded the point. “Um?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Follow my lead, let me do the talking.”

“And when do I look for Stella?” Francesca began to protest. 

Holding up a hand to stop her before she could really get started, Welsh shook his head. “You’ll know when to make your move.” 

“Oh!” Francesca grinned. “I’m with you. I’m on your six,” she added excitedly. 

Welsh rolled his eyes and groaned as he stepped out of his vehicle. “I’m getting too old for this,” he grumbled as they headed steadfastly towards the SA building. 

****

Ray peered out of the plane window as they flew over vast lands with smatterings of white snow. “Is it always just snow up here?” he asked, actually taken by surprise by how open, empty and wild it seemed. 

“Not always, these are just flurries of Fall,” Fraser replied simply. “We in fact have a dramatic seasonal shift during the summer months.” Fraser leaned in and peered over Ray’s shoulder to the land beyond. “You should see the wildlife, Ray, it isn’t as lifeless as one would think from up here.”

Ray glanced at Fraser who was now very much in his personal space, he felt warm and smelled so good. It was a scent of something that reminded Ray of polished wood, but was unlike any cologne he’d ever tried. He resisted the urge to breathe it in deeply and just swallowed. “Oh yeah?” he managed to get out as normally as possible considering just how close Fraser was leaning over him while peering out of the window.

“Yes, Ray!” Fraser answered brightly, sitting back slightly to look him in the eye, his blue eyes practically sparkling. “For starters we have the wolverine, who despite being small in size is a ferocious creature you would not want to be on the wrong side of. Then we have the muskox who have a rather noticeable smell if you spend too long in their company. Not to mention the caribou and the polar bears, the bison and the ptarmigan which while small is a master of disguise as the seasons change.” 

At Fraser’s clear enthusiasm, Ray smiled. “You get out there a lot then?”

“Oh yes,” Fraser gushed. “As often as I can. I can hike or take the dogs and the sled in winter. It is truly a beautiful place, Ray.”

“And does um, does Vecchio like it?” 

Fraser laughed a little. “Oh no, while Ray Vecchio is extremely capable in such environments, he is much more comfortable in city climates.” 

“Huh,” Ray uttered, unsure as to why that created a coil of warmth in the pit of his stomach. 

“How about yourself, Ray?”

“What?”

“Is this the sort of place you prefer to be or are you more enamoured with the urban landscape?”

Ray blinked, not really knowing what half the words Fraser was saying meant. “Oh me? Um yeah, I’m a city guy. I mean, my dad took me camping once or twice when I was a kid, but I’ve been in Chicago so long, I think I’d get a rash if I went anywhere this wild and remote, you know?”

Fraser drew back into his seat and gave him a curt nod. “I see. It is certainly not for everyone.” 

“Yeah,” Ray continued, feeling like he’d somehow offended or hurt Fraser’s feelings and wanted to fix that as soon as humanly possible. “But it’s not like I wouldn’t give it a chance you know? Like, I’ll try anything once,” he finished quickly with a wry smile. 

Fraser met his gaze and canted his head slightly. “It is good to hear that you’re open-minded, Ray.”

“Oh yeah. So open,” he responded, closing his eyes and giving his head a slight wobble. He sounded like an idiot. Like a guy on a first date trying to impress the girl, and that metaphor could just climb back into its box where it belonged. This was not the time or the place to be thinking thoughts like that while sat next to possibly the most attractive Mountie in existence who also smelled like Fall and freshly polished leather. In spite of himself, he did inhale deeply, might as well enjoy the physical closeness while it lasted, he was only human after all.

“On that note, Ray,” Fraser started as the plane began to shudder and descend. “I must prepare you for meeting Dief.”

“Deef?” 

“Yes. He will be insufferable upon meeting you, and I just want to make you aware. He can also be rather possessive and protective when I’ve been away and as you are an Other he may come across as a little impolite at first.”

Ray’s little bubble of pleasant smells and the enjoyment of warmth from Fraser’s arm resting against his own instantly popped, leaving him bereft. Heart sinking, he gave Fraser a look. “Dief is?”

“My companion,” Fraser replied. “He’s quite loyal. I think you’ll like each other but I just wanted you to be prepared.”

“Oh sure,” Ray answered. Fraser’s companion was a man he realized while quashing down any growing feelings of disappointment that threatened to bubble up. He thought he’d had a shot but actually had never stood a chance. And wasn’t that the story of Ray’s life. “I mean I’m coming into his home so it makes sense that he’ll be on edge. I get it.”

Fraser gave him a warm smile that just made him feel worse. “I had a feeling you’d understand, Ray.” 

Ray could only smile back half-heartedly as they landed with a jolt. He had to get a grip, he was here to do a job and get Vecchio back safely, or at least find out what he knew. Fawning over a man he’d just met was just not on the cards. Why did he always do this to himself?

“We’re here, Ray.” Fraser got up after they came to a stop, making his way to the plane door. “I have a truck at the airport and it’s only a short drive to my cabin.”

Ray followed dutifully, stepping out into the cold air. It wasn’t frigid but he could definitely feel it through his leather jacket. The aforementioned airport looked like a large shack with a few light planes dotted about and an even smaller parking lot off to one side. He really was in the middle of nowhere. If Fraser suddenly decided to turn on him, or turn – he wasn’t too sure how the wendigo thing worked, he’d never actually met one before – there would be no place for him to go. Out here was Fraser’s territory and for the first time since meeting the man, Ray felt just a little bit out of his depth. 

“Come along, Ray,” Fraser called out over his shoulder. “It’ll be dark soon.” 

“Dark?” Ray jogged down the steps while glancing at his watch. “It’s, huh, it’s three in the afternoon!” He was actually surprised he’d spent most of the day with Fraser and that it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Even when Fraser had spent part of it contemplating having to maybe shoot him. 

“Indeed it is, Ray,” Fraser said with another knowing smile. 

Scowling as he followed Fraser into the waiting truck, Ray huffed. “What does time work differently here or something?” 

“Of course not,” Fraser chuckled. “But we are north of the 60th parallel and, unlike the cities where light is constant, daylight is precious and we have to drive on some treacherous icy tracks to get to the cabin. I prefer to do that before dusk. Besides, you must be hungry?”

Ray couldn’t argue that point. “I could eat, yeah. Will uh, Dief be okay with that, me just showing up for dinner?” Honestly, what kind of name was Dief anyway? “I can always stay in town if it’s easier?”

“Nonsense, Ray,” Fraser scoffed. “If Dief has a problem with guests then he can sleep outside.”

“You’d make him do that?” Ray asked, astonished. Fraser seemed so mild-mannered. 

“Ray, please, our earlier uncertainties aside, I would have hoped you would give me more credit than to see you stay anywhere other than with us after travelling all this way.”

“I just…Um, don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s none at all. You needn’t worry. Dief is all bark and no bite, especially if he knows I trust you. If he doesn’t like my guests then he’s free to leave, he knows this.”

Ray wondered what kind of relationship Fraser enjoyed because, contrary to appearances, he was starting to sound just a tad on the side of overly dominant and even a little controlling. Maybe this was just a Canadian thing, especially when living this far north of seemingly anywhere else. It was always the pretty ones he thought to himself resignedly.

The drive to the cabin went relatively smoothly, with both Ray and Fraser making small talk about their respective jobs and Fraser describing his duties as a Mountie out here in the wilds of nowhere. Tracking criminals over thousands of miles didn’t sound like Ray’s cup of coffee, but then the way Fraser described it made it sound like an adventure you would read out of a book about the wild west or the days of the gold rush hundreds of years ago. Ray had always enjoyed those stories. Going on a quest, seeking out the unknown, two companions against the world. 

“Whoa!” Ray breathed aloud as the cabin came into view. “You say you built that?” 

“Well I built it, actually,” Robert Fraser interjected from the back seat, causing Ray to practically leap out of his seat. 

“Jeez, a little warning, Bob!” he yelled. 

Robert chuckled. “Jumpy isn’t he?” he teased. 

“Dad,” Fraser chided. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“What I can’t drop in to see my son?” He grunted, affronted. “I see how it is, you have your friends, don’t need your old man.”

“Dad,” Fraser groaned. 

But Robert Fraser had already gone. 

“Bit sensitive isn’t he?” Ray commented. 

Shaking his head, Fraser just sighed. “You have no idea. I honestly don’t know if he was always like this or if this is just a byproduct of him being dead.”

Ray snorted out a laugh at that. “Hey, it could be worse. I don’t even talk to my dad.”

Fraser shot him a look. “I’m so sorry, Ray, that must be hard. You’ve only spoken highly of him when you described your camping trips.”

“It’s alright. We’re just too different I guess, and he hates cops, so.”

Fraser had nothing to say to that which Ray was glad of. He didn’t really want to go into detail. “Your cabin looks great, bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Thank you, Ray.” Fraser practically beamed. “I must admit, it was at Ray Vecchio’s insistence. After his first visit here, he refused to allow me to return to Canada to live in what he described as a shack.”

Ray grinned at that. “He’s a good friend.” 

Fraser nodded and smiled warmly. “That he is.”

They came to a stop a short way from the cabin which looked cosy glowing in the waning dim light. Ray had gotten to take maybe three steps towards it when the door suddenly burst open and the largest dog he’d ever seen leapt out and bounded towards him. 

“Look out!” A voice shouted. 

Instinctively reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, Ray didn’t even get a chance to turn around before he was bowled over and pinned to the ground. “Fraser!”

“Dief! Off!” 

“Fraser! Get this dog off me!”

“He’s not a dog, Ray, he’s a wolf. I did warn you.”

“This is Dief!?” A rather unmanly squeak escaped him as Dief barked loudly, his large mouth lolling open showing Ray every single one of his teeth before he was viciously licked to death. “Fraser!”

“He is deaf, so you’ll need to tell him.”

“Get off me!” Ray yelled. 

Dief whined and gave Ray one last slobbering lick right up his face before jumping off him and sitting down, his tail thumping on the ground. 

Pushing himself up, Ray glared at Fraser. “I think you neglected to tell me about Dief being a goddamned wolf, Fraser!” 

Fraser grimaced apologetically and offered his hand. “My apologies, Ray, I sometimes forget myself. Diefenbaker is his own individual.”

Another man came to stand beside Fraser, half scowling, half laughing. “He does it for the reaction and plays innocent. He does this a lot, you’ll get used to it.” 

“Ray, please,” Fraser protested before directing Dief back inside, following him up the wooden steps.

Back on his feet, Ray gave Ray Vecchio a nod. “You must be Vecchio.” 

“And you’re Kowalski.”

“Welsh told you, huh?” 

“I asked. Needed to know who was looking out for my family, you understand?”

“And?”

Ray Vecchio looked him up and down. His green eyes sharp and appraising. “It’s nice to finally meet you… Stanley.” He grinned and held out his hand. 

Bristling slightly, Ray shoved down his irritation and accepted the gesture for what it was. “Pleasure’s all yours, Vecchio,” he stated dryly. 

“Oh we’re going to get along just fine,” Vecchio chuckled as they made their way into the cabin. “How’s my ma and Frannie?”

“Well me and Frannie,” Ray stopped and glanced at Vecchio, crossing his fingers in front of him. “We’re tight.” 

Vecchio’s face dropped. “What do you mean?” 

Ray winked and stepped inside. 

“Stanley, you better not have slept with my sister!”

****

Frannie drummed her fingers against her arm as Welsh talked to the receptionist about meeting with the State’s Attorney. Chewing on her nail, she tried not to think about where Stella was right then. Why had she run off? Had those goons at the station somehow gotten hold of her? She had only felt like this had been the right place to come. In Ray’s words, she had had a hunch. But what if she was wrong? What if Stella was in trouble somewhere else while they were stood here twiddling their thumbs waiting for the receptionist to call upstairs to see if anyone would see Welsh. 

“Pssst…” 

Francesca blinked and caught sight of a hooded figure just sitting on one of the visitors sofas by an elevator. Glancing back at the receptionist, Francesca casually walked over and picked up a magazine placed on the center of a coffee table. This was clearly some kind of waiting area.

“Francesca…It’s me…” a soft whisper urged her to look up. 

Meeting Stella’s bright blue eyes, Francesca frowned. “What are you doing here? I’ve been so worried!” she mouthed, trying not to draw attention to herself as she continued leafing through the magazine. 

“I’m sorry, but after what I saw in my file. I needed to get here, I have questions.” Stella reached out to gently squeeze Francesca’s hand holding the magazine. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Francesca tucked a hair behind her ear with her other hand, her cheeks growing warm at the touch. “It’s fine. Just, you’re lucky you haven’t been caught. How’d you get in without being seen? How long have you been sitting here right under their noses?”

“The receptionist never pays much attention to visitors too many people always coming in and out, we used to get them unannounced all the time, Stella whispered. “Plus, it’s an old building so there’s a way in through the back. I just slipped in about half an hour ago and simply sat down to wait for somebody to come out of the elevator, you need a key card to go upstairs.”

Francesca nodded. “Harding is trying right now.”

Stella shook her head, peering discreetly past Frannie at the desk. “They’ll come down here before they let you upstairs.” 

“What do you suggest we do then?” Francesca asked through gritted teeth, not hiding her frustration well. 

“I’m going to trigger a fire alarm at the back exit. Then I’ll go up the fire exit. They lock the elevators when it’s set off. Meet me on the sixth floor.” 

“What about Harding?” Francesca asked, not sure how she would let him know this plan without tipping off the receptionist and security who were not too far away watching him closely. 

“I think we’ll have to do this without him,” Stella replied softly. “I’m sure he’ll understand. I’m assuming you told him?”

Francesca winced. “I had to, you were missing and there were these goons at the precinct. He knew something was hinky.”

“It’s alright. But do you trust him?”

“Ray does,” Francesca answered quickly, a little taken aback. 

“But do you?” Stella held her gaze earnestly. 

Francesca gave her a firm nod. “With my life,” she replied steadily. 

Stella gave her a soft smile. “Then so do I. Look, can you create a distraction for the security guard while I head towards the fire alarm?” 

Francesca dropped the magazine on the table and smirked while rolling her shoulders out. “Can I?” Flicking open the top button of her shirt she winked at Stella. “Prepare to be dazzled,” she declared confidently, setting off with a determined stride towards the security guard before stumbling and falling dramatically right by his feet. 

Both the security guard and Welsh rushed to help her as she made as much commotion as possible. This was a role she had been born for. She kept it up as she caught sight of Stella dashing towards the back in the ensuing hubbub. The shrill fire alarm blurted through the building, shocking the security guard into action. He ran to the main doors to open them wide, ushering out the receptionists first and the ground floor. 

“Francesca are you alright?” Welsh asked concerned. 

“I’ve found her, I gotta go.”

“The fire alarm–”

“–I know, it’s her plan, she’s waiting for me, don’t let him catch me.” 

Blowing air through his cheeks, Welsh glanced at the security guard coming back while still directing the people streaming down the stairs out of the building. 

“Everybody out!” 

“Go on, I got your six,” he added dryly. “Be safe, report back to me at the precinct when you get out.”

Francesca grinned. “You’re the best, Harding.” 

Francesca ran as the security guard began his approach. 

“Hey, hey!” 

Welsh stepped in the security guard’s path, ‘accidentally’ sending the slighter man down to the ground. “Oh that’s my fault, getting in the way here.” He offered his hand out which the security guard accepted.

“Stop her!”

“Who?” Welsh turned around, dropping the security guard again mid pull. 

With a grunt and a curse the security guard dragged himself up. “That woman! She ran to the stairs.” 

In one smooth movement, Welsh took him firmly by the arm, drawing him into a quick jab on the nose with his elbow, taking his legs out from under him with a surprised yelp. “Oh no, I think you’ve hit your head, let’s get you outside.” 

“No, wait…” the guard protested in confusion, dabbing at his now slightly bloody nose. “What?” 

“Excuse me,” Welsh called out to two men in suits passing by. “Could you help me, he’s hit his head, he’s confused, I need to get him outside for his own safety.”

“Sure thing.”

They helped the dazed security man back up to his feet and Welsh continued to direct people out onto the street. “No, wait, there was a woman, she’s gone in the building,” the guard rambled, trying to look back over his shoulder.  

Welsh also looked back, hoping he’d made the right call. Francesca and Stella were very capable women, but neither of them were too sure who or what they were up against here. If Stella’s death really had been orchestrated by somebody she trusted then they could all end up in a world of trouble if either of them got caught. 

****

Dashing between the throngs of people hurrying to get down the stairs of the building, Francesca wasn’t stopped as she pushed her way up and through. With the fire alarms still raging, all anybody was thinking about was getting themselves out of the building. It would take the fire service coming to clear the building now before anyone would be allowed back in so she knew they’d bought themselves a little bit of time to get what they needed and get out. 

Stepping out onto the sixth floor, she found it mostly empty and frantically scanned the open office area for Stella. A hand suddenly grabbed her elbow and tugged her into one of the abandoned offices. “Hey!”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s me.” Stella let go and quickly gave Francesca a tight hug which immediately diffused her irritation. “My office was at the back but I don’t know who took my case. My file says this guy, Malcolm did, but I’ve searched his office and there’s no case file for my murder.”

“Malcolm?” Francesca frowned. “No, that doesn’t sound right.” She closed her eyes tightly trying to remember. “There was a guy from the SA’s office. Small, looked like a rat, kept coming to the precinct and pissing Ray off when he tried to work your case after it was closed.”

“A rat?” Stella made a face. 

“Yeah, you know…” Francesca pulled a face that had her sticking her teeth out and chewing. “A rat. Big teeth, little pointy nose and eyes. He wasn’t called Malcolm it was like Carl something.”

Bemused at the impression, Stella ran a hand through her dark hair. “Wait,” her eyes widened. “Do you mean Cahill?”

“Yes, yes! That’s it!” Francesca clapped her hands. “He was awful. He was the one who had Ray questioned as a suspect.”

“My Ray?” 

Francesca nodded. “If it weren’t for Harding, I’m pretty sure Ray would be in prison for Cahill’s murder right now.”

“That bastard,” Stella muttered. “Cahill, not Ray,” she added hastily. “When I was alive, he was always sniffing around. I could have sworn he was after my job. He was a slime ball and I knew he was up to something, I started my case on him but I didn’t get a chance to prove anything before…you know…God he was such a creep.” 

“I know what you mean.” 

Stella sighed. “That must’ve been so hard for Ray.”

Francesca’s mouth twisted. “It sucked in a lot of ways, yeah,” she agreed softly. 

“Come on,” Stella declared. “Cahill’s office is down the hall. So’s my old office. Here’s hoping the files of what I was working on are still there.”

“I thought you said you had them with you when you were killed.”

“I did,” Stella threw Francesca a wry grin. “But I always made copies of big cases I was working and kept them in a safe place that only I knew about.”

Francesca folded her arms and smirked at Stella. “You should have been State’s Attorney you know.” 

Stella laughed softly. “Trust me, it wasn’t from a lack of trying but no one was willing to back putting me on the ticket.” 

Not even needing to ask, Francesca followed her out the office now that it had fallen quiet. “Ugh let me guess, men?” 

“Mostly one specific man who I suspect seeded doubt about me mounting a campaign in the right places,” Stella stated standing and staring at the name on the closed door. 

“Damon Cahill.” Francesca declared aloud. “Do you think he knew that you were investigating him?” she asked quietly.

“Cahill?” Stella frowned. “I don’t think so, why?”

Shrugging, Francesca chewed on her bottom lip. “Just might explain why you were killed and why your case files about him mysteriously disappeared.”

Stella shook her head. “He’s awful but a killer?” 

“I’m just thinking out loud,” Francesca raised up her hands. “But think about it. He had connections surely. He could have paid someone…” she trailed off as she caught Stella’s horrified gaze. “I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”

“No! No it’s alright.” Stella’s jaw set, her eyes steely. “We have to get those files.” She tried turning the doorknob but the door wouldn’t budge. “Damn, it’s locked.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” Francesca pulled out a hair clip and bent it, before kneeling at the door and sliding it into the key hole. 

“Have you done this before?”

“Once or twice,” Francesca answered cagily.

“Should I ask?” Stella said, bemused. 

The door clicked and Francesca pushed it open, grinning up at Stella. “Sometimes a girl’s gotta do, what a girl’s gotta do.”

Letting out a surprised laugh, Stella helped Frannie up. “Francesca, you’re amazing.” 

“Try telling my brother and Ray that next time you see them please.” 

“My pleasure.”

Smiling back at her, Frannie was suddenly struck by how pretty Stella was. It was kinda obvious now why Ray had been so hung up on her and kind of useless when she had been around. It wasn’t that she hadn’t looked before, women, the right women always deserved a second glance, she wasn’t shy. She just had a rule not to take a friend’s seconds and Ray for all intents and purposes she did consider a friend. She shook her head, attempting desperately to hide her blush and went straight for the filing cabinet. “Come on, tell me what I’m looking for, we gotta get those files and burst this case open.” 

Stella followed. “Don’t you mean, blow this case open?” 

“Burst, blow,” she waved her hand dismissively, fiddling with the cabinet and her hair pin once again before the drawer slid open. Her cheeks had to be glowing with how hot they felt when she caught Stella’s impressed smile. “Either way, Cahill’s gonna feel it.”

****

Sipping the hot coffee that Vecchio had made, Ray sat and listened to Vecchio’s story of going undercover for the FBI to help them infiltrate the mob. He’d gotten close and realized what the FEDs were really trying to do was cut the connection with mob bosses who were holding them hostage with knowledge and evidence of awful things that had been happening with Others. Ray had always suspected that more went on at those prisons they were sent to that the public or even the cops that sent them there knew about. “Holding facilities my ass,” he muttered angrily as Vecchio described experiments that basically amounted to torture. He had realized he had to get out when he discovered they had created a mutation using wendigo DNA that allowed resurrection from death in some cases. 

Ray immediately thought of Stella and his scowl deepened.

“That’s when I knew I knew too much,” Vecchio stated. “The FEDs were never going to let me go knowing what I know. Luckily I had some people I trusted who were mob adjacent, and I did what I needed to do. Got some people out, took my evidence and ran.”

Ray massaged his temple as he processed everything, letting his focus slip to Fraser. “So where do you fit in with all of this?” he asked, sizing him up more closely.. “You were already in Canada I’m guessing?”

Fraser shared a look with Vecchio and seemed pensive, his tongue swiping over his lower lip. 

Vecchio just held up his hands and shook his head. “It’s your funeral. 

“Ray, we can trust him,” Fraser countered softly. 

“I thought I could trust the FEDs,” Vecchio argued. “Look how that turned out.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “Guys, I’m right here, I can hear you. You either want my help or you don’t and you can live up in the frozen north for the rest of your lives, it’s your choice.”

Vecchio snorted. “Please, don’t tempt him.”

Fraser looked chagrined and frowned as he fiddled with the cup in his hands. 

“Spit it out, Fraser. I already know about the Other thing and the dead dad thing, what’s one more thing?”

“Dead dad thing?” Vecchio questioned. “What dead dad thing. His dad is dead right?”

“Oh yeah, just haunting Fraser and talking his ear off.”

Vecchio’s eyes grew wide. “What?!” 

Fraser winced slightly. “It’s not important, Ray.”

“The hell it isn’t!” Vecchio exclaimed, arms waving. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He then screwed up his face and jabbed a finger at Fraser. “And why did you tell him?” he added angrily. 

“I didn’t.”

Vecchio looked at Ray who shook his head. “You saw him??” 

Ray shrugged. “Hey, if it helps, it’s a new one for me too.”

“No it does not help, Stanley!” Vecchio rubbed his face with both hands. “You’re an Other too?”

“Not officially,” Ray squirmed. 

“Ray please,” Fraser placated. “We’re getting off topic.”

Vecchio sank into his chair. “Fine, tell him.”

“Spit it out, Fraser,” Ray added, his hands on his hips. 

“The experiments with resurrection require certain wendigo DNA. Not just any. Uncontrollable resurrection is not the goal. It needs to be controllable and there are very few wendigos in existence that can control their nature.”

Ray nodded things slotting into place. “And you’re one of ‘em.”

Fraser met his gaze. “Yes, Ray.”

Tugging at his hair, Ray groaned in frustration. “What the hell would they want to bring people back from the dead for anyway?”

“Well, it’s less about coming back from the dead and more about being resistant to death. Wendigos are notoriously hard to kill and, if anything, get stronger upon being attacked. They can live for very long periods surviving on very little sustenance too,” Fraser tugged at his ear with a worried frown. “Imagine having a military force with such capabilities.”

“They’d be unstoppable,” Ray murmured with a sinking dread in his chest. “Fuck me,” he swore softly. 

“Language, please, Ray.” 

“Fraser, if we could prove they’ve done this, are doing this, we can stop them right?”

Fraser looked at Vecchio who shrugged and sighed. “My intel tells me it was a localized operation. But, if successful, then higher ups are going to want in, you get me?” He rubbed his fingers together in the common gesture for money. “It’s all about the big bucks I guess. The USA’d become a super power if they got their hands on this…technology.”

“But not if we blow this thing wide open,” Ray declared firmly. “Before it gets too big. Let the people know.”

“What people?” Vecchio scoffed. “People like you, you mean? People who hide who they are and imprison your own so you can stay free, huh? What do people like you care?”

“Ray,” Fraser tried to scold gently, only to be shouted down when the other Ray exploded.  

He got right up in Vecchio’s face. “I’ve got more invested in this fight than you do, Vecchio.”

“Oh you want to play, Polack? At least I’ve been in the trenches fighting the fight, unlike cowards like you!” Vecchio shoved Ray back and grabbed him, both Rays raising their fists to strike. 

Dief scrambled to his feet and began barking loudly at the sudden increase of tensions. He growled and circled the two Rays agitated and ready to pounce. 

“Enough!” Fraser hollered in his voice of command, getting between them both and shoving them apart. “This will achieve nothing!” He glared at them both. “We are all on the same side.”

Vecchio yanked himself free from Fraser and scoffed. “Yeah? Tell that to your new buddy there, Benny.” With that he grabbed his coat and marched out of the cabin. 

“Ray!” Fraser called out, only for the door to slam in his face. 

“Seems like running is all Vecchio’s good at,” Ray spat out, his fists still clenched. “Still just looking after his own back. He’s not even an Other!”

Fraser’s chin dropped to his shoulders and he shook his head slightly, his voice low. “No, but his family is.” 

Ray frowned in confusion. “What Frannie? She’s not–”

“No,” Fraser interrupted, levelling a stern gaze at Ray that silenced him. “Ray has a wife and a daughter. He got them into hiding and came north beyond the FEDs’ reach because he knew this information had to get out, was vital to stopping what was happening in Chicago. He’s risked everything, Ray, when he could have just disappeared with them.”

With that Fraser followed Vecchio out of the cabin, leaving Ray standing alone with his deflated rage and long held guilt about his privileged position as an Arcane detective and an Other with under the radar talents. “Shit…” he uttered dejectedly, chin dropping to his chest. He felt something wet and cold nudge his hand and he glanced down at Dief peering up at him with sharp but somehow sympathetic eyes. “I know, Dief, you don’t have to say it.”

Dief whined and canted his head. 

“Alright, maybe you do,” Ray answered, sinking into his chair. “Nobody ever gave me prizes for being smart.” 

Licking his face, Dief yapped at him. 

Curling his fingers into the soft fur of Dief’s ruff, Ray sighed. “I know, I know, I’m an idiot.”

Barking twice, Dief wagged his tail and put a paw on Ray’s knee. 

“I’ll talk to them, just let me think.” 

Dief whined and nudged him again, licking his hand and face affectionately. 

“Thanks, buddy, I’m glad one of you does.”

****

A short while later after gathering his thoughts, Ray slipped his shoes back on and stepped outside. It was dark now and much colder, he shivered. He could hear Vecchio and Fraser talking in the smaller cabin tucked just to the side. It was more like a hut really. He remembered Fraser saying he had a sled and dogs; that had to be where they stayed, apart from Dief of course. He glanced down at the wolf trotting beside him and smiled when Dief looked up and his tongue lolled out of his mouth to one side. He’d always had a thing for dogs, or rather they had a thing for him. Stella had never let him get a dog due to how busy their jobs were. She had been right of course but that didn’t mean he didn’t long for a simpler life where having a dog just seemed natural. 

Taking a deep breath he made his way to the smaller hut and braced himself as he approached the doorway. “Uh…hey, Vecchio…can we…talk?”

Vecchio and Fraser shared a glance and an unspoken conversation. It seemed to conclude with Vecchio frowning deeply. Fraser however seemed somewhat pleased and took his leave. He gave Ray a subtle nod and a pat on his shoulder as he passed him. 

Vecchio glared and folded his arms. 

Ray kicked at the dusty shed floor and shoved his hands into his pockets. “So uh… what I said before, well I shouldn’t have said it, I made an… a…um assume um…” 

“Spit it out Kowalski,” Vecchio interrupted impatiently.

“I made an assumption. I guess I get too um invested in what I do and the Others that I have to process as best I can. I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t care or wouldn’t do your best by ‘em. And I didn’t know about your uh…family…” 

Face softening a little, Vecchio cocked his head at Ray. “So why do you do it?”

Ray met his gaze unsure how to respond. “The job?”

“Yeah, why process them at all?” Vecchio gestured at Ray. “Especially if what Fraser tells me is true, why do that to them, to yourself?” 

Swallowing hard, Ray shrugged and looked anywhere but at Vecchio, that guilt creeping up at the back of his mind. “I’m a good cop,” he cleared his throat. “By the time that I knew that maybe I was different, I was already on track to make detective. I actually, um, requested a transfer to the Arcane division after my cover got blown when I was, you know, you.”

Vecchio’s eyes widened. 

“I know it won’t make a lot of sense, but I felt like being on the inside, keep working for Welsh who I trust, processing those in my jurisdiction, I could do right by folk, you know within the law. I know the right folk to put them in touch with, the right places to go,” he sighed and shook his head. “Hearing it back I guess it just sounds like excuses, but I’m trying to do what I can inside a system that doesn’t care about people like me.”

“No,” Vecchio replied softly. “I don’t think it sounds like an excuse. I think it sounds hard. Having to stay within the law though, sometimes you gotta make those bad calls right? Process someone into one of them camps they get sent to, when you know it’s not right.”

Ray held his gaze jaw clenched. “Yeah…more often than not.”

Inhaling deeply, Vecchio shook his head and made his way out of the small barn. “If you’re not careful Kowalski, a job like yours,” he tapped his head. “It messes with you. At some point you’ll have to choose, just like I did.” He laid a hand on Kowalski’s shoulder and gave it a singular pat before heading back to the main cabin. 

Letting the words hang heavy in the air, Ray took a moment before following Vecchio. “Hey, what evidence did you get of what they were doing?”

“You mean the experiments? The resurrections?” Vecchio asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Just a few files and my own eyes, why?”

“Because a funny thing happened to me right before I flew out here,” he paused, hoping he wasn’t about to sound crazy. “My ex wife showed up at my door.”

Vecchio snorted. “That’s funny to you?” 

“Well yeah,” Ray stopped Vecchio by taking hold of his arm. “She’s been dead about a year.”

Vecchio stilled and grabbed Ray’s arm back. “Are you fucking with me?” he asked in a stern whisper. 

“Not about this. I would never. She was an ASA, was murdered while investigating something big. They tried to pin it on me but there was no evidence and Welsh had my back. I was covering your job you see, and they had to pull me out of it,” Ray explained almost urgently. “Then two days ago she shows up, covered in dirt and tells me she thinks they’re after her, that they know what’s been done to her.” It still felt too surreal to Ray. “She was standing right in front of me as real as you are now, looked like she’d been through the ringer, a little pale and cool to the touch, definitely not all corpselike or zombieish, but alive and breathing and arguing her point, so yeah basically Stella..”

“Oh my God,” Vecchio rubbed his face. “She could be the key. The evidence we need to blow this whole thing wide open. Where is she now?”

“I left her with strict instructions to stay at my apartment.”

“Good, anyone know she was there?”

“Well uh…I asked your um…Frannie to stay with her…” he trailed off. 

Vecchio grabbed Ray. “You asked my sister!?” 

“She was cool about it!” Ray replied defensively. 

“Cool! God damnit, Kowalski, she’ll end up your ex wife’s best friend and everybody is going to know. You really thought they were just gonna stay put huh?” 

“I made sure they knew how important it was.”

Vecchio swore softly under his breath. “Tell me you don’t know women without telling me you don’t know women.” He shook his head. “Fraser! Ray’s got us the evidence we need, pack your bags.”

Fraser appeared at the door. “Really?” His face blossomed into a smile. “Well that’s wonderful, Ray. What is it?” 

“His dead ex wife, although now, not so dead. The bastards actually did it, Fraser,” Vecchio explained as he squeezed past him.

“His…dead… Ray, did you say dead?”

“He did, Benton buddy,” Kowalski added, giving Fraser’s chest a friendly slap as he followed Vecchio into the cabin. 

Looking at the surprised eyes of his still dead father, Fraser swallowed. “Oh dear.”

****

Canada was quiet. Like dead quiet. It was almost loud. Ray didn’t know how to explain it but the silence felt loud. He shivered as he made his way from Fraser’s sofa where he’d been trying and failing to sleep to the front door. The fire was burning low and crackling softly, Dief was curled up in front of it, snuffling and grumbling in his sleep. Ray wondered if wolves dreamed like dogs did. He sighed as his bladder repeated its urgent call for attention. The bathroom was apparently back in that hut outside and, despite it being far too cold to run outside in his PJ’s for this time of year to for Ray’s liking, he needed to go. Peering through the tiny window beside the front door, Ray scowled. It was pitch black outside. Picking up the oil lantern Fraser had explained was for midnight toilet breaks, Ray slipped into his coat and shoes and stepped outside.

He hurried over to the hut and found the little outhouse tucked away neatly at the back. Relieving himself, Ray breathed deeply and once cleaned up, ventured back outside. He chanced a moment to look up at the sky and stopped in his tracks. “Whoa…” he uttered, completely blown away by just the sheer amount of stars above him. 

“Ray?” 

“Aahh!” Ray let out a sharp yell and actually jumped about two feet. He was pretty certain a tiny bit of him died right in that moment and he clutched his chest. “Fraser?” he hissed. 

“My apologies, Ray, I didn’t expect anyone to still be up,” Fraser explained as he approached, his boots barely making a sound.  

Ray stared at him and looked past him in the direction he’d just come from and saw only blackness and more stars and the shadows of trees. “What the hell are you doing out here, Fraser?” 

“Oh, on the nights I struggle to sleeping, I go for a walk, look at the stars; some nights I talk with my father.”

Ray was quiet for a moment. “You can’t sleep either?”

Fraser’s face glowed in the yellow light of Ray’s lantern and Ray saw what he thought was a fleeting frown and concern. “Not as of late,” came the gentle reply. 

Huh. Ray could relate to that. He spent most nights either dancing on his own in his apartment or drinking just enough that he would just crash on his sofa and still catch a couple of hours before work. Sleep did not come easily these days. “Wanna talk about it?” he offered. 

Fraser seemed surprised by the question. “I wouldn’t want to impose, Ray.”

Ray shrugged, unsure if Fraser could see him clearly, though he suspected he could see him perfectly in the darkness. He caught a glimpse of the dim light reflecting in Fraser’s eyes the way lights caught cats’ eyes eerily in the night and he swallowed at the stark reminder that Fraser wasn’t entirely human. “It’s no imposition, come on.”

Fraser followed Ray to the bench sitting outside his cabin and took the offered seat beside Ray when Ray patted it in invitation. “You don’t have to listen to me, Ray, I’m sure you’re tired–”

“Quit it, Fraser,” Ray interrupted. “You don’t get the monopoly on troubled sleep and being broody, alright?”

Fraser’s mouth quirked an amused smile at that. “Understood, Ray.”

“So out with it, Benton-buddy. What’s eating at that big old brain of yours?”

“Goodness, nothing I hope,” Fraser replied with earnest horror. “I am not aware of any brain altering bacteria that would be able to survive in the glacial waters up here.”

Laughing despite himself, Ray shook his head. “Has Vecchio never taught you about using a figure of speech?”

“Oh!” Fraser tugged at his left ear. “An analogy. It’s funny you should mention that, Ray. When I was in Chicago, Ray, Ray Vecchio that is, showed me a great deal of kindness. The transition to city life was not an easy one for me, and despite thinking me odd, his friendship was an anchor in a strange sea.” 

“I bet, must be nice to be back here in the Northwest areas, huh?”

“Territories, Ray,” Fraser corrected. “And yes, it is…nice…”

“Why do I hear a ‘but’?”

Fraser looked at him. “I never said ‘but’.” 

Ray smiled. “Didn’t have to.”

Pausing, Fraser opened his mouth to argue before thinking better of it. “That’s rather astute of you, Ray.”

“It’s why they pay me the Detective bucks,” Ray quipped.

“Quite right too, Ray.” 

“So what is it? What’s bothering you?”

Fraser didn’t answer straight away, he looked down at his hands clasped in his lap and took a few moments to gather his thoughts. “Ray, have you ever felt as though there is a part of you that you must keep hidden from others, a part of yourself that you fear? And that fear stops you from truly letting people remain close to you?”

“Yeah, though, I don’t think I do a very good job of hiding anything,” Ray replied, looking back up at the twinkling stars. “I’m better at pretending to be something I’m not.”

“I don’t understand, Ray, you seem quite genuine to me.”

Ray smiled at that. “Don’t deflect, we’re not talking about me right now. Tell me, what is Benton Fraser so afraid of that he needs to hide it from everyone, even his best friend?”

Biting his lower lip, Fraser sighed. “What I could become, should I lose control,” he answered with an almost resigned finality that Ray didn’t like hearing.

“You think you’re a monster?”

“I don’t think, Ray, I know.”

“Bullshit,” Ray swore. He shifted to face Fraser and look at him intently. “You’re talking about the Wendigo aren’t you?”

Fraser didn’t reply, he didn’t need to. 

“It scares you.”

“Yes, Ray.”

“Why? You’re so much more than that, Fraser.”

“And yet, the monster is not something I can outrun or escape from, Ray,” Fraser said, looking him in the eye. “My…condition is both rarer and more dangerous than many Others because by it’s very nature it is a curse, a blood curse.”

“So what?” Ray countered. “You haven’t tried to eat me or–”

“Not through a lack of wanting though, Ray!”

Ray stopped at that, his eyes wide, his heart thumping a little faster in his chest. Fraser’s eyes flicked down almost as though he heard it speed up, before meeting his gaze once more, his eyes sad. “You uh…you want to run that by me again, Fraser?”

“I was born a Wendigo, Ray. Most are made when forced to through a curse of consuming dead flesh in order to survive; through that unspeakable act they enter a cursed existence. It’s why I can appear and act and live a relatively normal life as a human man. But the urges of the curse are in my blood and in my thoughts, every minute of every day. If I were to relent for even a moment, if I were to give in to those urges…it is a lonely life.”

“But you haven’t–”

“Not yet.”

Ray frowned and gently rapped his fingers against Fraser’s chest forcing his attention, noticing for the first time that he wasn’t in uniform and damn just how good did he look in that henley and flannel shirt with jeans? Focus Kowalski, damnit! “Fraser, what you just described to me is what I call being human.”

“Ray, people don’t get urges to eat the flesh of their fellow man, especially not the recently deceased ones.” Apparently Fraser got snippy when he felt he wasn’t being heard, Ray filed that little nugget for later. 

“No, can’t say I have wanted to eat the dead, or alive for that matter. But I have wanted to drink until I couldn’t stand up or see straight, I have had the urge to punch as many walls or faces as I could until somebody put me down. I’ve run into situations without back up, and I can’t say that I didn’t have a little tiny voice in the back of my head hoping that a stray bullet would find me–”

“Ray…it’s not…”

Ray held up his hand. “Hear me out, Fraser,” he steadied himself, gathering his thoughts. “Everyone, every single person you meet is fighting something you can’t see. Everybody, Fraser, even if they’re not aware of it. We all got demons up here, be it drugs, alcohol, sex, violence, porn, painkillers, exercise, even your own brain telling you you’re worthless, spineless, or whispering at you to eat the dead, we all got somethin, Other or not, and some of us got more than one of those demonic bastards rattling around our heads.,” Ray tapped his temple, “and you can either listen to ‘em and let them beat you, or you can fight ‘em.”

“Fight them, Ray?” Fraser asked softly. 

“Yeah, fight ‘em, however you can. Some people take meds to fight them, and that’s fine. Personally, I drink, too much, and I box, that helps a bit more, but best of all, I keep getting up, like you, and I work the job, every damn day.”

“You fight them,” Fraser repeated somberly. 

“With everything I have, even if I do look like a screw up most days.”

“I don’t think you’re a screw up, Ray.” Fraser regarded him thoughtfully. “I think you might be one of the strongest men I’ve ever met.”

Ray snorted at that, his cheeks hot, his blush thankfully invisible under the night sky, and lightly swatted at Fraser’s arm, shifting in his seat to rest his back against the back of the bench and spread his arms across the back rest, his arm brushing Fraser’s back. If they sat any closer it would be cozy. “Careful, Fraser, flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I mean it, Ray,” Fraser insisted. “You carry a wisdom that can only be borne from struggle, and yet you still choose not to give up, or rather give in to your urges to self-destruct, you still choose to try and help others and that is a noble fight,” he stopped before sighing. “There is one thing I don’t understand, however.”

“And what’s that?” Ray asked, his throat tight.

“Why don’t you give yourself the same courtesy?” Fraser continued. His eyes searched Ray’s. “You’re here giving me advice on how to see past the walking time bomb of an immortal cryptid canid beast that quite literally courses through my veins, telling me I am more than my brain would have me believe, that I am a man worthy of love and friendship, yet you don’t take your own advice. You don’t look inwards and see a man worthy of the same care you’re giving me.” 

Ray inhaled slowly, looking away from Fraser’s piercing, concerned eyes. “You have to pick your battles, Fraser,” he replied grimly. “And that’s not one I’ve ever won.”

“Perhaps…it is not a battle one should tackle alone.” 

A rueful smile tugged at Ray’s lips and he stayed quiet, choosing instead to look up at the constant, shining stars, his shoulder nudging Fraser’s ever so slightly as he leaned a little closer while they sat in companionable silence.

****

After that surprisingly deep conversation with Fraser, Ray felt unburdened enough to get some sleep. But he’d woken up just as wired as before. Sitting stuck in this metal tube, Ray’s leg bounced urgently and he’d chewed his nail almost to the quick. Planes, one of man’s greatest, fastest creations and yet it felt like the slowest thing on Earth right now. He started when he felt a firm hand grip his arm resting on his leg and squeeze him gently. 

“It’ll be alright, Ray.” 

Fraser’s voice was like warm molasses and Ray suppressed the urge to shiver. He was trying to be soothing but it didn’t ease the tightness in Ray’s chest. There had been no answer to his multiple calls to his apartment, he’d been unable to get a hold of Welsh and even Ma Vecchio’s phone had been either engaged or unanswered. 

“If it isn’t,” piped up Vecchio leaning over Fraser. “If anything has happened to my sister, I’ll hold you personally responsible,” he pointed his finger sharply at Ray. 

“Frannie, can look after herself,” Ray protested grumpily. 

Sitting back in his chair, Vecchio snorted. “Are you kidding me?” he let out a soft laugh. “If it’s not makeup, fashion or a good looking guy, Francesca is about as much use as–”

“—Ray,” Fraser interceded. “I remember Francesca as quite a versatile and capable woman. Wherever they are I am certain she is keeping her wits about her and is keeping Stella Kowalski and herself safe.”

“Sure,” Vecchio agreed. “Knowing Frannie, she’ll have taken her to Ma who will take care of them both.”

Swallowing around the knot in his throat, Ray glanced at Fraser, trying not to focus on the hand still gently squeezing his arm. “You really believe that?” he asked quietly. “That they’re keeping each other safe?”

Meeting his gaze, Fraser gave him a small nod. “I have to.”

Looking into those steady blue eyes, Ray bit his lip and nodded, returning his gaze back out the airplane window. He had to believe that Stella and Francesca were okay. He wasn’t sure he could cope with the alternative, not again. 

****  

Ray loved his car and despite Vecchio complaining it wasn’t his beloved Riviera, he shut up pretty quick when Ray showed him just how fast the GTO could get from the airport to Ma Vecchio’s house. Fraser, to his credit, had also kept quiet ever since Ray had barked at him to keep his trap shut about the red lights he was driving through. He felt a wet tongue in his ear and jerked the car as he tried to shoulder Dief off. “God damn, Fraser, did you really have to bring the dog?” 

“Wolf Ray and I would have never heard the end of it if I’d left him behind. Buying him a seat was the least I could do after letting other people stay in our cabin.”

The Rays looked at one another and Vecchio rolled his eyes. “Don’t get me started. I had to get him a wolf license when he first came to Chicago.”

“And Dief was very appreciative, Ray,” Fraser responded demurely. 

Ray Kowalski blinked and shook his head. “You’re both clearly unhinged.”

Skidding to a halt outside the Vecchio house, Ray Kowalski, who hadn’t bothered to put on his seat belt, dashed inside first, with Diefenbaker scrambling out after him. “Stella, Frannie!” 

“Oh my goodness! What is all this?” Ma Vecchio came to a stop when she saw her adopted son and then her son son step over the threshold with Fraser. “Mio figlio,” she gasped and her shaky hands came up to her mouth. 

“Hi Ma,” Vecchio uttered gently a smile playing across his lips. “It’s been too long.”

“Oh bambino mio,” Ma Vecchio cried, tears rolling down her cheeks as she reached for him. 

Vecchio wasted no time before stepping in and embracing her tightly, letting her kiss his face over and over. “I’m sorry, Ma. I’m alright, I’m home now!” 

Ma Vecchio cupped his face and smiled brightly at him. “You must be hungry.” 

“No, Ma, I need Frannie, where’s Francesca?” 

“Oh she’s with her new friend,” Ma stated with a knowing smile as she blustered past Vecchio and tugged Fraser into a warm hug. “Grazie, you must eat with us.”

“That’s very kind,” Fraser replied, slightly flustered. “But we really must–”

“Ray?” A loud shout from up the stairs cut Fraser off. 

“Ray!” A clatter of feet on stairs and Francesca stopped dead on the last one staring wide-eyed at Vecchio. “It’s really you.”

Vecchio gave her a lopsided smile. “Hey, Frannie, told you I’d be home before Christmas.” 

Her bottom lip wobbled and she practically threw herself at him, whacking him in the chest. “That was last Christmas, jerk,” she sniffed, wiping at her eyes as she looked around at them. “I’m glad you’re alright, all of you.” She gave a watery, grateful smile to Ray, drawing him into a tight hug too. “I’m sorry we didn’t listen, Ray,” she murmured softly into his ear. “But she’s okay,” she looked at his worried gaze and cupped his face. “Stella’s okay.” 

At that moment she looked up the stairs, drawing Ray’s eyes up and catching sight of a woman who was the person he married but also was somebody completely new. “Stella?”

Stella smiled softly, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. “Hi Ray.” 

“You…you dyed your hair.” 

She laughed softly. “Yeah, what do you think?”

Letting a smile play across his lips, Ray nodded. “It looks good on you.” 

Francesca smiled at them and then turned to Fraser. “Hey, Fraser,” she said demurely. 

Fraser suddenly straightened to attention and inclined his head slightly. “Francesca.”

She pressed up close and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m glad to see you again too,” she breathed. “Thank you for taking care of my brother.” 

Fraser relaxed a fraction and encircled his arms around her. This wasn’t one of her flirtatious hugs he’d become accustomed to when he’d first lived in Chicago, this was gratitude and warmth that felt like family. He caught Ray’s eyes watching him after greeting his ex wife and couldn’t help but give him a smile. 

Ray smiled back a warmth coiling in his belly, all that worry dissipating in the accepting arms of welcome and home. 

****

“So you kicked ass huh?” Ray stated between mouthfuls of Ma Vecchio’s food. He grinned at Fraser who was also eating heartily. Ma Vecchio had even let Dief sit beside her chair to eat a smaller portion of what she’d made them; she occasionally leaned over to talk to him and feed him more food which Dief was definitely enjoying. “You’re gonna get fat, mutt,” Ray teased quietly grinning at the wolf. 

“You should’ve seen her when that security guard cornered us,” Francesca enthused. 

“Really it wasn’t anything–”

“—You were great!” Francesca insisted. 

Vecchio glanced at Ray and Fraser and grinned as they were eating, content to just listen to Francesca and Stella explain how they’d stolen the files from Cahill’s office that proved how he had links to the mob and how they were connected to the federal government’s experiments on Others. Between the files and Stella simply being alive, they had a solid case she was saying with total confidence. 

A gnawing pit in Ray’s stomach twisted as his ex wife said that. “It’ll never see court,” he muttered and the mood at the table shifted dramatically to one of sullen silence. 

“Ray, you don’t have to be so defeatist,” Stella countered testily. 

“Think about it Stella, Cahill is the SA now. He nearly had me indicted for your murder, you think he’s going to let us get anywhere with what we know? We’ll be lucky to leave this house.” 

Francesca clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Stella’s right, Ray, can’t you just enjoy the moment?”

“This was always your problem, Ray,” Stella continued. “You could never take the wins, could never let go.” 

Pursing his lips, Ray let his fork drop to the plate with a clatter and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I’ve heard enough, thanks Ma,” he declared, kissing her cheek as he stepped out. 

“Ray, don’t be like that!” Francesca called after him. 

“Frannie, don’t, this is what Ray does,” Stella stated quietly. 

Ray ignored them as he headed outside to the back garden. 

“He’s not wrong though…” 

Ray heard Vecchio speaking up in defence of him just as he closed the door behind himself. Arguments were never his thing. Stella was right, whenever they’d had fights, after the anger had gotten the better of him and he’d punched a door or a wall, he’d shut down, leave, escape, however he could, physically or mentally, all too often at the bottom of a bottle. At least this time he’d bypassed punching something entirely though. 

Standing there, leaning against the porch pillar, he stared at the well-kept garden and vegetable beds in the Vecchios’ yard. It reminded him of his own mum, growing what she could in arid soil, his dad working at the factory to keep food on the table. His whole life he’d just been trying to escape, and what did that truly say about him?

“Mind if I join you?” 

Unsurprised that it was Fraser who had followed him out, Ray lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, not bothering to turn around. “Knock yourself out.” 

They stood in companionable silence for a little while before Fraser cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that you–”

“–That I’m overly negative? That I can’t just enjoy the moment?” 

“Actually,” Fraser continued. “I was about to say that I’m sorry your concerns were dismissed.” 

Ray threw him a look. “Oh, don’t worry, Fraser, I got used to that a long time ago.” He sighed and turned to lean his back against the wooden pillar, folding his arms as though trying to shield himself. 

“Was the um, the divorce acrimonious?”

Ray blinked. “Acrim-what?”

“Oh um, high-conflict, bitter,” Fraser clarified. 

Ray barked out a short laugh. “You could say that.” He licked his lips and ran a hand through his spiky hair. “You know, when she was uh…she was killed, I lost it. Lost my mind, went blind with grief and rage. I was desperate to find the bastards who killed her. Since then, since working on the case even when it went cold, I felt closer to her than I have in years. So when she showed up at my door, alive, I had all these thoughts going through my head. What ifs, maybes. She was my Gold Coast girl, my first real love. I thought she was the one,” he knew he was rambling now but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “What do you do with all that, when in reality, she never needed you, never really saw you, you know?” He hung his head and gave his whole body a shake. “Sorry, Fraser, you don’t need to hear all that.”

“It’s quite alright, Ray,” Fraser replied with understanding. “A love that strong, that all consuming, when you lose it…” he paused for a moment. “It’s like you lose a part of yourself.” 

“Yeah,” Ray answered looking up at Fraser. Fraser held his eyes and Ray could tell that he knew how it felt. “Were you…um married?”

Fraser ducked his head with a coy smile. “No, I never…” he stopped, his tongue swiping over his lower lip. “There was someone, a long time ago. A woman.” His voice was thick. “She and I were mismatched, you could say…”

Ray listened as Fraser regaled him with a tragic bittersweet tale of tracking a criminal and having to save her life, only for her to save his. A love that was fleeting but intense, he’d heard about love in survival situations like that, how people could bond through trauma. Fraser had had it bad, he could tell, but then he’d turned her in, she’d been sentenced to ten years and she’d refused to speak with him since. 

“That’s rough, Fraser,” he declared softly. “Why do we do it to ourselves huh? Gotta be whacked in the head.” 

Fraser gave him a wry smile, “I thought I was in love once, and then later I thought maybe it was just an inner-ear imbalance... It was probably the most romantic moment of my life. But in the end, I realized I'd learned two things. The first is that it's easier to think you're in love than it is to accept that you're alone. And the second is that it's very easy to confuse love with subatomic particles bursting in the air.” 

Ray looked at him and quirked a grin. “You’re an odd guy, Fraser, bit of a freak, but I gotta disagree with you. You can totally be in love and still be alone and neither one is easy.” 

“That’s quite moving, Ray, poetic almost.”

Ray huffed a laugh. “Tragic more like. Rapidly approaching forty with nothing worthwhile going for me. Divorced, working a job that pretty much betrays everything being a cop should stand for,” he breathed in deeply, his hands running through his hair, tugging at it slightly. “What good am I?” 

“Ray, forgive my temerity,”

“Telemetry?”

“Temerity.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Of course.” Fraser continued smoothly. “But in the short time I have known you, I have come to see much good in you.”

“Fraser, that’s not–”

“Please, Ray, let me finish,” Fraser stepped closer, his gaze steady. “You chose a life of noble self sacrifice, chose to work within a system to help as many Others as you could at great personal risk to your own livelihood and of possible exposure, stayed and looked out for another man’s family when he was unable to and even risked your life to find Ray Vecchio when asked. No matter what you think about yourself, you’re a good man, Ray.” 

Ray swallowed hard, taken aback by the genuine earnestness in Fraser’s tone and unwavering sincerity in those beautiful blues. “You really mean all that?” he asked huskily. 

“Every word, Ray.” 

They stood there, eyes locked, the air electric, and Fraser standing much closer than Ray had realized. Then that damned tongue swept across that full bottom lip and Ray’s eyes flicked down and then back up to Fraser’s eyes which were blazing with a sudden intensity that had Ray’s stomach doing somersaults. 

“Fraser?” 

“Mm?”

“Do you uh… do you find me attractive?”

“I’m not sure I’m qualified to judge, Ray,” Fraser replied softly.

“Like… if you were a woman?”

“If I were a woman?”

“Yes, Fraser, come on, do you find me attractive?”

Fraser rocked slightly on his heels and took a half step closer. “Very much so, Ray, yes.”

His breath catching in his throat, Ray was going with his gut on this one. There’d been something in the air since he’d first met Fraser and whatever it was it both terrified and excited him in ways he hadn’t felt since the early years with Stella. He started to lean in, Fraser’s mouth barely inches from his own. He saw Fraser’s eyes widen but he didn’t pull away. Fraser’s breath brushed across Ray’s face and Ray let his eyes start to close when suddenly all hell broke loose.

“Ray!” Fraser shouted.

He heard the sound of glass smashing quickly followed by what sounded like a loud intrusive pop that hurt his ears, then Dief was barking loudly before a solid weight thudded into him, forcing the air out of his lungs as he thumped onto the ground. “Augh, what the hell?” 

“Ray, Ray, Ray!”

“What, Fraser what?” Ray grunted, opening his eyes to find Fraser atop him. His ears were ringing.

“Are you hurt?” 

“Hurt? No. Why did you tackle me?” 

“There was an explosion, come on.” Fraser practically hauled Ray to his feet and raced into the Vecchio house where there were panicked screams and smoke. 

“Shit!” Ray swore chasing after Fraser. He helped Francesca off the floor, she was shocked and covered in glass. “What the hell happened.” 

“Molotov cocktail through the front window,” Vecchio yelled, helping Stella out the back door. “Black sedan out front, sped away. I’ve seen it before.” He looked at Fraser meaningfully. “We’ve seen it before.” 

Fraser frowned. “Frank Zuko.” 

“Everyone get out back, get to the cars, they won’t be done yet,” Vecchio commanded. 

“How long?” Fraser demanded. 

“Like seconds, Fraser they just sped off. Now, don’t you be doing anything crazy…Benny!” He yelled as Fraser was already sprinting out the front door after Dief who was already running down the street after the retreating sedan. 

Ray didn’t hesitate and was hot on Fraser’s heels.

“Where the hell are you both going?” Vecchio cried out, exasperated. 

“Get them to the station, we’ll meet you there!” Ray shouted back as he ran after Fraser. 

****

Ray wasn’t stupid enough to follow Fraser on foot. He leapt into his car and gunned it after the Mountie. He was starting to see the almost unnatural abilities Fraser had as part of his Otherness. Ray had heard of wendigos but he thought their abilities were similar to that of werewolves. Such as only being super fast and strong when they changed into the wolf part of their persona. Apparently, Fraser already had fast and strong down as he sprinted after his actual wolf across the tops of vehicles waiting in traffic in the middle of a Chicago suburb. He silently thanked any deity that might’ve been watching that this wasn’t downtown Chicago in rush hour because there would have been so many questions and so much paperwork. 

It was when Fraser took to the rooftops that Ray thought maybe, just maybe he was in over his head here. Wendigo or not, Fraser definitely wasn’t indestructible. Wendigos lived an awful long time and were resistant to a lot of damage that could kill an average human but they could still be killed, Ray knew that much. In a growing panic he stuck his head out of the GTO window and hollered at the crazy man as he leapt onto the moving sedan, having somehow caught up to the fleeing mobsters. “Fraser!” Pressing the accelerator to the floor, Ray raced after them, weaving through cars and trucks. He’d actually put his police lights on for this, he wasn’t a complete idiot. 

He couldn’t get close enough to the sedan because Dief was still running behind, keeping pace and barking at Fraser careening about on the roof of the car, as the sedan swerved violently from side to side in an attempt to throw him off. “Jeez, Fraser, if you survive this I’m going to kill you!” Ray hollered, his heart pounding in his chest. 

A gun and an arm reached out of one of the side windows and Ray, who had already unholstered his weapon, fired off a shot to try and stop them from grabbing or shooting Fraser. Bullets flew back at him, luckily dinging off the side of The Goat, making Ray wince at the thought of his paint job. He tried to get up alongside the car, only to have to swerve back out of the way of oncoming traffic. “Fuck!” 

Fraser managed to kick the extended arm and send the weapon flying before he leaned over and tackled the man in the car. His head was half inside the window and Ray could see him throw a punch, as the sedan jerked sideways. All of a sudden Ray’s heart caught in his throat when the sedan abruptly turned sharply right, cutting through traffic with a shriek of horns and the curses of indignant drivers and Fraser was flung about ten feet into the road. Skidding to a halt, Ray was out of the car and scrambling towards him. “Fraser!”

He was on his knees beside the downed Mountie who had rolled and was lying face down on the tarmac. “Benton, buddy, you still with me?” he asked urgently, carefully checking his neck for a pulse. “Come on, Vecchio will kill me if you’re dead.” 

Dief was beside them whining and pawing at Fraser’s body, while nosing and licking his face.

Fraser groaned and started to turn, much to Ray’s relief. “We can’t have that, Ray,” he added with a slight grimace in his voice. 

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, Ray tentatively helped Fraser onto his back. “Honest to God, Ben, do you have a fucking death wish?” 

“Language, Ray,” Fraser chided with mild bemusement as he peered up at him and winced as he slowly pushed himself up to sitting. “And as a matter of fact, I very much prefer being alive, thank you.”

“Language my ass!” Ray argued, his anger replacing the fear he’d felt at seeing Fraser thrown from the roof of that car. “You’re not Superman! Wendigo or not, you can still be killed by pulling stupid fucking stunts like leaping off tall buildings or being thrown from moving vehicles. Did you even stop to think what it would do to me if you croaked it while I had to watch, what it would do to Vecchio to lose you?”

Fraser blinked at him owlishly. “I apologize, Ray. I felt it important to know who we were up against given the value of evidence we’ve managed to obtain. I can now confirm that Zuko’s mob and the FBI are indeed working together.” He held up an FBI badge he’d managed to take off one of the men in the car. “This is a coordinated effort to have us silenced and our evidence buried with us, you were right, Ray. They will do everything in their power to stop this reaching the courts.”

“Don’t try to appease me with logic, evidence and telling me I was right, Benton Fraser. That’s unbecoming of a Mountie. What you did was reckless and I don’t enjoy having the shit scared out of me. You seem to think you can do these things and it won’t matter to anybody else, but you just can’t, Fraser. It’s not valiant, it’s…it’s…outrageous and unnecessarily precipitous.”

“That was a beautiful sentence, Ray.”

“Thanks,” Ray answered, sitting heavily on the ground beside Fraser with a sigh now that his adrenaline had worn off. 

Fraser opened his mouth to continue but then thought better of it, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry I scared you, Ray.” He placed his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “I will endeavor to be more considerate of the impact of my actions upon you in the future.”

“Yeah, you better,” Ray mumbled. “So what do we do now?” he asked, looking at the FBI badge Fraser was holding. “I guarantee the next place they’ll go is the station. If we can’t get this evidence to court…” he trailed off, shaking his head. They would be lucky to make it to the station alive if this was as big as Vecchio had hinted it was. It went beyond Cahill, Zuko and the local feds. This went right up the ladder, maybe even government level. 

“Perhaps Lieutenant Welsh or Stella will have a plan?” Fraser suggested. 

Ray was already dialling Welsh’s number before Fraser had finished speaking. Stella would know what to do, she had always known when it came to big cases like this, granted she’d never been on this side of one before. “Lieu, it’s Ray, yeah we’re good. Are they there? Did they make it?” 

Fraser leaned in close as Ray tilted the phone at his ear so he could hear properly. It took all of his effort not to be distracted by the warmth of Fraser’s cheek near his own skin. Now was not the time and sitting in the middle of the sidewalk was definitely not the place. 

Welsh confirmed Vecchio, Francesca and Stella had made it along with Vecchio’s ma, and that he’d tipped off his superiors about the shocking scale of what they’d discovered. “Wait, you called the commissioner? How do you know you can trust her?” 

Ray listened intently as Welsh explained what had happened at the station. He’d locked down the precinct since the FEDs were on their way. The commissioner wasn’t sure what was going on but trusted Welsh’s integrity. Press coverage was what was needed now and lots of it. “Don’t worry, sir, we got a plan. We’ll come to you.”

Ray hung up when Welsh had told him to hurry with whatever they had planned to do. 

Fraser was staring at him. “We have a plan?” 

“No, but we better come up with one and quick or the entire precinct is going to end up in jail or killed and we’ll be fugitives.”

Fraser frowned deeply. “We don’t have the sway to reach the right people in time, Ray, what you’re asking is–”

“Fraser, I don’t need a miracle, I just need the press. A journalist willing to stick their neck out for the truth. This is bigger than us, we have to go public, that’s the only way through this now.” 

Stopping mid-sentence, Fraser stared off into the distance. “I think I know someone.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes, Mackenzie King,” Fraser stated, getting to his feet and tugging Ray up to standing. “I went on a date with her once. Although it wasn’t really a date, but I thought it was at the time.”

“Wait what?” Ray demanded as he followed Fraser to his car. “What do you mean a date? You wanted a date? If it wasn’t a date, what was it then? When’s a date not a date? Fraser?”

****

“Guys this scoop better be worth it,” Mackenzie declared from the back seat of The Goat as Ray parked a fair way from the station but still close enough that they could see throngs of what looked like armed police and TV news vans surrounding the place. “Because from what my sources tell me, there’s a very real chance we’re going to get shot the minute the mob or the FEDs lay eyes on us. Or rather, on you two.”

“Ray, she does have a point,” Fraser spoke up from the passenger seat. “How do we get inside?”

“I’m thinking, just…gimme a minute.” Ray stared at the precinct. This was bad, very bad and yet, he drummed his fingers against the door, one hand resting on the steering wheel. He felt they were on the cusp of something bigger, an opportunity. “I know what we can do,” he announced, turning the key in the engine and revving it back the way they’d just come. 

“Care to share with the class?” Mackenzie called out behind Diefenbaker who had stumbled onto her lap. She held onto him as Ray drove like a maniac through downtown Chicago. 

“We’re going to the Other compound on the Southwest Side. If there’s anyone that can help us, anyone that might choose to help us, they’ve got more reasons than most.”

“What?” 

“Ray, are you sure that’s wise?” 

Ray caught Fraser’s worried glance and pinned him with a sharp look. “Trust me, Fraser. I know what I’m doing.” 

Nodding his head and giving Ray a subtle smile that was more a twitch of his lips than anything else, and Fraser was on board. “I trust you, Ray.” 

“Oh great,” Mackenzie responded sarcastically. “A rogue cop and a super Mountie, sounds like a badly written TV show.”

****

Breaking into the compound was actually relatively easy as many of the guards recognized Ray as somebody who was one of them and had brought many of their ‘guests’ here himself. Breaking people out on the other hand was a whole different ball game. 

“So you’ll help us?”

The pale man stared at Ray unblinkingly and a slow predatory smile brushed over his mouth. “It’ll cost you.”

“Like it hasn’t already taken my soul,” Ray muttered. “What do you want?” 

“Beyond freedom? A little blood wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Absolutely not, we’ve talked about this Lucas,” Ray replied hotly, hands on his hips. 

“Ray, I can donate,” Fraser offered. 

“Fraser, no. Lucas knows he can’t drink people, that’s what landed him here in the first place.”

“I don’t want to drink the dog anyway,” Lucas muttered sulkily. 

“Oh the Mountie’s no dog,” rumbled a hairy man at the back of the room watching them with sharp yellow eyes. “You drink the Mountie’s blood, Lucky, you’ll become like him.” His eyes glinted as he approached Fraser. “My clan would hunt your kind hundreds of years ago. How have you not succumbed to your curse?” 

“Ah, a werewolf,” Fraser commented far too casually for Ray’s liking. “It’s a pleasure, Mr?” he held out his hand. 

“Fraser, quit it, you’re not helping.” He turned back to Lucas. “Lucky?” 

Lucas shrugged. “It’s a nickname Roy gave me, I don’t mind, stops the others putting a stake through my heart you know. Wolves are cool, but a vampire? Now that’s bad news, bunch of racists the lot of em.”

“I get it the world sucks? Here’s a chance to make things right,” Ray explained. “I can’t get into the precinct without you, and we have evidence that could change everything, change things for all Others.” 

Roy growled low in his throat. “We’ve heard that before.”

“Do you think I’d be here lying to you? Really?” Ray snapped. 

“I think he’s doing what he’s always done, looked after himself and those that matter to him,” a woman uttered from the floor where she was sat cross-legged. 

“Claudette has a point, Ray,” Lucas said, folding his arms. “How can we trust you, you’re one of them.”

Ray hung his head and sighed, he knew this was a long shot, they had no reason to trust him. 

“Actually, if I may,” Fraser spoke up, stepping more into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “Ray is more like you than you seem to realize, much more than he is like those who have carried out inhumane experiments on your kind.”

The three in the cell stared at Fraser like he’d grown another head. 

“What did you pay this guy, Ray?” Lucas asked incredulously. 

“Believe me, I couldn’t pay him to shut up,” he gave Fraser a look. 

“Forgive me, Ray, but I feel it’s pertinent for them to know the truth about you at this juncture.”

“Fraser…” Ray warned. He was not ready to be outed like this. 

“What are you blathering about Mountie,” Roy snarled impatiently.

Fraser steeled himself, standing almost to attention. “That Ray is an Other like you.”

Rubbing his face with one hand, Ray resisted the urge to shoot Fraser right at that moment. He hated feeling exposed more than anything, it wasn’t anybody else’s business. He didn’t even know what he was really. 

There was a long heavy moment where nobody said anything and then Roy, Claudette and Lucas all began to laugh. 

Ray looked at them with a scowl. “Not sure I’m seeing the joke here.”

“Oh honey,” Claudette purred. “We all know you’re an Other.”

“Yeah, why do you think we’re still so pissed at you, Ray?”

“What do you mean, you know?” 

“Certain types of Others, have an innate sense of the otherness in…uh Others.” 

“That’s remarkable, Ray,” Fraser gushed. “Just like how you knew about me,” he grinned at Ray broadly. 

Rolling his eyes, Ray shot Fraser a sharp glare. “So you’re not going to help us because Others shouldn’t turn Others in, have I got that right?”

Lucas tilted his head and frowned. “No, Detective, how can we trust someone who doesn’t even trust himself?”

Claudette stood up and made her way into Ray’s personal space. “You put up a good front, but what you do, breaks you every time you have to send one of us here. We know we messed up, we took the chances you gave us and we were caught anyway. You did your job, and I for one was glad that it was you, and not one of them, for what it’s worth.”

“But hiding who you are, pretending to be one of them,” Roy added. “That’s going to lead to worse things than ending up in here, Ray. You know better than most how they treat those of us that get away with pretending to be normal.” 

Ray swallowed thickly, unsure what to say when he felt Fraser’s solid presence beside him, a strong hand on his shoulder.

“If you do choose to help us to expose those who have done this heinous thing, we can bring the plight of Other treatment out into the light too. I promise you, the public out there have no idea how you’re treated in here. In Canada, it’s different, there are rights, laws to protect most, even Others, it’s not perfect but it’s progress. Only by shining a light on the ugly can we illuminate the truth of what’s really going on. Normal or not, most people don’t want Others to be treated unethically, or be stripped of their rights as a sapient peoples.” 

“Alright, alright! Jeez!” Lucas exclaimed. “We’ll help you. If only to get the overdressed boy scout to stop.”

Ray grinned at that, ducking his head from Fraser as he did so. 

Fraser to his credit was unfazed. “Thank you kindly,” he replied earnestly, giving Ray’s shoulder a squeeze which sent playful shivers dancing down his spine.

“What do you need us to do?” Roy asked warily. 

“The precinct, I need to get the four of us—me, Fraser, our journalist and her camera man—on the roof without the FEDs surrounding the place seeing us, but none of us, as far as I know, can fly or jump that far while carrying someone. Once we manage that, then we’re going to need help broadcasting live to the entire city. 

“You’re going to need an antenna for that,” Claudette mused with a smile. “I know just the thing.” 

****

Ray hated flying by vampire even more than he hated flying by light plane. He was pretty sure at one point that Lucas almost dropped him, but he’d been assured that even in bat form, Lucas maintained the strength of a vampire. Sort of like how ants could lift ten to fifty times their own body weight but in bat form. Still dangling from the claws of a vampire bat with nothing to hold onto, above the 2-7 in the dark, was not on the top of his bucket list. If he survived, this was a first and last delivery by bat for him, check it off and move to the never again list. He understood why they’d waited until nightfall, that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

The news outlets were declaring it an unprecedented siege of a police precinct by groups as of yet unknown. The FBI had been unable to gain entry and some reports even stated that the police inside the 2-7 were stopping them from getting passed the heavy front door. The crowds had grown ever larger throughout the day and the FBI agents were divided between trying to gain entry and keeping the crowds at bay. The FBI were supported by none other than that weasel Cahill, whose face was on all the channels from outside the precinct last time Ray checked. 

Without warning he felt Lucas let go and resisted the urge to cry out as his stomach tried to escape out of his mouth as he was momentarily weightless. He landed with a thud barely two seconds later with Lucas materialising beside him. “Looking a little green there, Ray,” he teased. 

“Fuck off, Lucas,” Ray grumbled, lying on his front on the solid roof for a few seconds longer. 

“You thought I was going to drop you from higher, huh?” 

Ray just groaned and got to his feet. “Wouldn’t put it past you.” 

“Please, give me some credit,” Lucas scoffed. “If I was going to do that, I’d do it from way way higher up, plus I would have had a sneaky drink before I did it, you wouldn’t have felt a thing.” 

“That’s disgusting,” Ray complained. 

“So sue me,” Lucas grinned. 

“Are we all here?” Fraser asked as he walked over, gently placing Dief onto the ground. 

“Just waiting on Roy and Mackenzie and her cameraman. How was your trip?”

“Claudette was most gracious,” Fraser answered. “She has provided the means to broadcast our signal when ready but has chosen not to remain for what she dubbed the showdown. I gave her some details of people in Canada she can contact when she arrives north of the border.”

“Canada huh? Did you give her your address too?”

“Ray…”

Ray just shrugged at Fraser’s gentle one word scolding. 

“Jealous little runt aren’t you?” Lucas murmured into his ear, far far too close. 

“Get off my back,” Ray bit out. “It’s none of your business.”

“Then why are you making it everybody’s business, detective?” 

“Shut your pie hole,” Ray snapped as he watched Roy leap from the adjacent building in his wolf form, the full moon’s light casting an eerie glow on his elongated hairy limbs. Ray momentarily wondered what Fraser would look like if he changed into his wendigo form, but, shook himself out of that thought almost immediately. It did not turn his crank. He would stick to the Mountie form please and thank you kindly. 

Mackenzie climbed off his back once they’d landed safely whereas her camera man sort of fell off and stumbled in a slight daze. “Don’t worry about him,” she waved her hand. “Had to give him some Dramamine.” She pressed her hands into Roy’s fur and leaned in close. “Thank you, you have my number.”

“You got a date with the wolfman?” Ray spluttered. 

“She is good,” Fraser commented almost in awe. 

Mackenzie just smiled. “Right, we’re here. Let’s get this show on the road. Where’s your living dead corpse?”

Ray pointed a finger at the blunt reporter. “Hey, less of that, her name is Stella!, She was an Assistant State’s Attorney of this city and was killed for trying to uncover the truth about the corruption at the heart of this mess, so show some respect, alright?”

Mackenzie held up both hands. “Alright, alright, she was a victim in all this, so I’m sorry, lead the way.” 

****

The pounding on the doors grew louder as they began their broadcast. Claudette had arranged it using her abilities so that they would cut through all the other channels and show on every working screen within 150 miles, it wasn’t quite the whole of Chicago but it was big enough to have an impact. This was a takeover. 

Stella stood poised and proud in front of Mackenzie’s camera as she answered difficult questions regarding her murder, the case she’d been investigating on Cahill and his links to the mob. The whole truth would be told in this broadcast. They had Vecchio’s evidence about FBI involvement with illegal medical experimentation that he’d taken with him to Canada and the files Stella and Francesca had stolen from Cahill’s office. Along with Stella’s death certificate signed by the coroner, Mort, who had also shown up to testify that he’d carried out her autopsy and run DNA proof that it was in fact Stella Kowalski standing there. They had this in the bag.

Ray looked around the precinct. Welsh was out front barking orders at his officers to keep the doors barricaded as the FBI started to break down the outer doors. Hewey and Duey were perched on their desks looking horrified and angry at what they were hearing. Francesca had eyes for nothing and nobody but Stella. Vecchio was standing at Ray’s desk, arms folded, evidence files at the ready for when Mackenzie swung over to him to ask about his part in all of this.

Vecchio caught Ray’s gaze and gave him an acknowledging nod of his head which Ray returned. While they’d never be partners, there was an understanding between them, a mutual regard they both held of the other. Plus he was the Mountie’s best friend, if he wanted Fraser to stick around, he was going to have to like Vecchio being around too. 

Ray had his gun out and was guarding the double doors closing off the bullpen from the chaos outside alongside the Mountie in question who was watching everything unfold, intense and silent throughout. Ray got the sudden feeling that quietly intense and thoughtful was actually truer to the real Fraser than this hale and helpful persona he put up in front of everyone. 

“Hey, Fraser?” 

“Yes, Ray?” 

“When this is all over. You know if we’re not rotting in a jail cell somewhere. How’d you fancy grabbing some dinner with me? I know a great place.”

“Dinner, Ray?” Fraser did look at him then. “You want to get something to eat with me?”

“Yeah,” Ray nodded, not meeting his eyes, afraid of what he’d see there. “You can say no, it’s cool, I–”

“That would be nice, Ray, thank you.”

He did stare directly at him then. “Really?”

Fraser smiled. “I’d like that very much.” 

There was a warm silence that settled between them as the FBI shouts grew louder and the first gun shot echoed through the station. Ray gripped his gun more tightly. “Ready, Benton-buddy?” 

“Right behind you, Ray.” 

Robert Fraser appeared in front of him looking almost indignant. “You know, you’re alright for an–”

“What! An Other?” Ray almost snarled out, not in the mood for Bob Fraser’s snark right now. 

“I was going to say a Yank,” Robert sniffed. 

“Oh.”

“I can’t understand what my son sees in you.”

“Dad!” Fraser hissed.

“But, by my book, you’re a good man, detective. I’d be proud to welcome you into the family.”

“You know something, Fraser?” 

“What’s that, Ray?”

“I think I understand more about why you’re a freak,” Ray shoved the bullpen doors open and raised his gun. 

“Understood, Ray,” Fraser responded with no argument as they ran, shoulder to shoulder, to face the oncoming FEDs and protect their friends. 

****

Eleven Months Later

As it happened, Ray didn’t end up in jail. In fact the Arcane division of the Chicago police force became instrumental in getting the Others being held in the corrupt centers released and reforming the system that put them there. After their broadcast, people had rallied. Protests across Chicago and the wider state of Illinois had forced the governor’s hand. While the experiments and corruption had been thankfully localized, their case had uncovered a wider network of mistreatment of Others and a call to action for better rights and laws to protect them from discrimination. 

It wasn’t the world changing event Ray had quietly wished for, but that hadn’t been realistic. Real change was slow and took time. What they’d done was give hope to a movement that had no voice. Plus it gave Ray the opportunity to witness Cahill being taken down by Fraser’s formidable former boss. Inspector Thatcher had been the one to apprehend him after he’d made a run for it and had attempted to hide on Canadian soil. Sometimes Ray still relived that sweet punch in his head. Cahill was now in jail waiting to stand trial for Stella’s murder. Despite her now being alive, the courts had acknowledged that she had been killed and still had to live with that trauma, so justice needed to be sought. 

As for Stella, she had, of course, stepped back into her old role and was working within the SA’s office to try and change the laws governing the treatment of Others. The last time they’d spoken, Ray had discovered that she and Francesca were looking for an apartment to share. Stella wanted a fresh start, her old apartment held too many bad memories of being murdered, which Ray could understand. He was honestly, and finally happy for her. It felt right. 

“Hey, Ray? I got a kid here whose parents were taken about a year ago. He wants you to pick up their case.” 

Ray looked up at Lucas. “Thanks Lucky, sit him at my old desk, get him a drink. Don’t bite him. Have you seen Welsh?” 

“He was in a meeting with the commissioner last I checked. Rumors have it, he might be getting promoted to Captain.”

“About fucking time too,” Ray replied. “Thanks Lucky.” He stopped and looked at the vampire when he didn’t immediately leave his office. “What?”

“Benton called, said his plane will land at seven at O’Hare, and asked, and I’m quoting here so don’t shoot me, if you could wear something nice as he has made reservations.”

Ray couldn’t help but smile at that, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Thanks Lucas, you can go now.” 

“Right you are, sir,” Lucas grinned. 

Lucas would make a good cop one day, Ray thought. He rather liked the mentor role he’d sort of found himself in to the new cadets that were coming through. As Welsh’s responsibilities had grown, so too had Ray’s. Thanks to his instrumental role in breaking the case wide open, he had been promoted to sergeant. He wasn’t sure if it suited him yet, though, and Fraser kept talking about maybe taking him on a long vacation up North to look for some Hand of Franklin or some such. Ray hadn’t really been listening at the time, there had been other things on his mind, like Fraser’s lips and body, and skin touching his own. 

Vecchio had taken early retirement, not that Ray could blame him. However, whenever he had a particularly difficult case, he’d call Vecchio up, get him to come and consult for him. He’d been reunited with Irene Zuko and their young daughter, who had come out of witness protection safely despite the FBI’s involvement. At least they hadn’t all been corrupt farthammers. Vecchio just wanted to play the family man, buying a house close to his ma so he could keep an eye on everyone. It was kinda Italian mob boss of him. Ray figured some things were hard to shake. 

Things weren’t perfect, no, Ray thought, but for the first time in a long time, he actually felt like what he was doing meant something positive, was making a difference however small. He’d even reconnected with his parents. He had been worried about the very male Fraser being his partner thing, for almost a year, but they’d welcomed them both with open arms. The being an Other thing however had been a little bit more challenging and a learning curve for his folks, but they were trying. And that, Ray thought as he looked at a photo on his desk of his parents standing with him and Ben on a fishing trip his dad had arranged out of state three months ago, was all anyone could do in these strange and changing times. They just had to keep putting in the work to preserve the light of hope in their little corner of the world.

That and it really helped to be in this with someone, to have a partner in every sense of the word. That was greatness!

****